#last time I had a panic attack though so thank you to this author for leading with a note

[teaandinanity]

Question for people who are good at AO3:

Is there a way to force a search to ONLY look for your target pairing as the first listed relationship?

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land Part 3

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

You can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here!

25.1k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: mentions of blood, mentions of guns/shootings/gunshot wounds, mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, CPR, mentions of jack's injury and losing his foot, anxiety about partner's safety, angst (kind of), very emotional, probably incorrect description of medical events, potentially incorrect medical descriptions/knowledge, reader wears Jack’s clothes, self-hate, Robby has been to therapy, fighting/arguing (no raised voices), unprotected PIV sex (BC implied with their committed relationship), allusions to sex and oral sex, discussion of end of life wishes, descriptions of nightmares, discussion of someone dying in front of reader, panic attacks, vomiting (very brief, not reader), discussion of scars/wounds, grief, mention of UTI, myrna, reader likes candles, Jack is the best, I had this idea and started drafting before we knew Jack was a widow so in this world he has never been married, no use of y/n or related, not really proofread.

Summary: Healing is hard. Emotions abound. Somehow life goes on. [Author continues to suck at summaries.]

AN: I am so sorry this took so long 😅 The vignettes have a bit of a different feel here because the way we are moving through time is much different and on a larger scale. But each vignette 'happened' before the scene it precedes. Part 4 is already like 75% of the way done so it will not be as long of a wait, I promise 😭 I know some wanted it all at once and I'm sorry it isn't, but I can offer as an apology the fact that because we're getting another part we're getting more content both in Part 3 and in Part 4!! Also I promise Quiet Part 2 is next up after Part 4. Thank you all so much for your patience and support and for reading!! Your replies and likes and reblogs mean so so much to me and I know we're all busy so I really appreciate you taking the time to read whatever it is I do here ♥️

After the housewarming party, life is good. You and Jack are still home together while you recover, in love and soaking each other in and planning France and dreaming out loud about your wedding. And healing. Individually and together. 

Things get harder though.

You’re both in therapy, yes, but you’ve been through a lot in the last month and a bit, and an hour a week only does so much. You’re both struggling, struggling a little harder now that the kind of honeymoon period of you getting home from the hospital has passed. 

You and Jack talk about it sometimes, about how things feel harder in a way all of the sudden now that you’re not focusing on being home finally and getting your place painted and all moved into. You think it’s just because you have lost some of that distraction. The reality of what happened starts to sink in deeper. Especially because things are ostensibly returning to normal but not really. 

Because normal isn’t being at home together while you’re recovering. You’re back to that hospital feeling of waiting. Waiting for you to recover enough for the next step to get taken. Jack going back to work. You going back to work. The return of your true new normal. 

So things get a little harder, emotions more intense. Some days it feels like you guys are taking more steps backward than forward. But you’re taking those steps in whatever direction together and you have each other and are in love and that’s all either of you need at the end of the day. Each other and your love.

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

It’s day four. 

Four days now you’ve been in a coma. Four days with no signs of waking up soon, even after they weaned you off the meds that had been keeping you under to help you heal. No twitch of your fingers or toes, no flutter of your eyelashes, no little grunt, no breathing over the vent. Nothing. Just you laying there in a hospital bed. Technically still alive and with him, but are you really?

Jack stretches out. He hasn’t left the hospital since you got shot. Literally has not set foot out of the building, hasn’t gone to the roof or out into the ambulance bay or gone through the main doors to stand on the street. 

Dana brought him in clothes and toiletries. She brought some for you too, telling Jack that you’d want them as soon as you were awake. Half of Jack wanted to scream at her for tempting fate like that, now that she brought them there would be no use for them because you’d never wake up. 

And half of him wanted to just sob into her because he knows that as much as she did bring them for you, she brought them for him. To give him the option of smelling like you, or just smelling your shampoo to smell you for a second. To give him a shirt of yours to keep near his head when he tries to get an hour of sleep. It helped once. He was actually able to grab a couple of hours. 

It’s not the same though, because those products haven’t mixed with your body chemistry to become the unique scent that is you. But it’s better than nothing. Because until Dana had brought it in for him he’d forgotten what you smelled like. 

He’d forgotten what you sounded like too. The sound of your voice, the way you say his name. The way you say you love him. Your laugh. He just couldn’t hear it in his head. He cracked on day three and listened to a voicemail you left him, watched a video of the two of you that you’d taken one day. It was comforting to be able to remember what you sound like and what you look like when you smile, to have those little pieces of you back in his mind. But it was also a devastating reminder of what he might lose. 

Your things, the voicemails you’ve left him and the videos and photos you’ve taken together might be all he really has left of you at the end of this. The realization had made him dry heave a little.

Robby walks in as Jack is stretching, hands him a coffee and a brown bag. Breakfast. “You have to eat if you want the coffee or else it’s just going to shoot up your heart rate and give you more anxiety.”

Jack looks at him almost blankly as he sits down in the chair on the other side of your bed across from Jack. “I’m still a doctor, you know?” The words hit Jack. “A fucking shitty one apparently. I can’t even fix her. This shit is what I do and I’ve saved so many people but the one fucking person who actually matters.” Jack shakes his head. “And nothing.” 

Robby cocks his head at him. “No doctor could fix this Jack. She’s in a coma. You’re making sure she gets the best care possible. That’s all anyone could do for her right now, doctor or not.” 

Jack waves Robby off, takes a sip of the coffee but makes no move for the bag. It earns him a look from Robby that he ignores. They sit in silence for a bit. It’s hard to come up with things to say. But Robby knows Jack needs to start thinking about it. It’s still very far down the line but it’ll be better for him to start thinking and coming to terms with it now, Robby thinks.  

“Jack.” Jack pulls his eyes off you and over to Robby. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Deep down Jack knows exactly what Robby’s question means. But he doesn’t let himself go there. He can’t. Robby will have to spell it out for him. “What I’m going to do about what?”

“What you’re going to do if down the line she heals physically but doesn’t wake up?” Robby says quietly, as though saying it lower will make it somehow less painful, pull less of a reaction from Jack. 

“What the fuck is that? Why the fuck would you even bring that up?” Jack snaps at him. While you were awake after surgery you’d signed a healthcare proxy giving Jack the authority to make treatment and end of life decisions for you. It had been just in case. Better to have it because then you would never need it right? Wrong. “We’re so the fuck far away from that. She’s not even healed. You and Dana are the ones that keep saying ‘it’s only been four days Jack give her time’ and now you’re coming at me with this bullshit?”

“I’m not coming at you with anything. Just asking a question because maybe it’s better to start preparing now for something you’ll never have to do than to be unprepared.” Robby shrugs. 

Jack doesn’t say anything, just looks back at you. He scoots his chair closer so that he can hold your hand. You’re just so goddamn still. It’s unnatural. Even the way you breathe is, it’s mechanical. Chest rising and falling in time with the clicks of the vent. 

“I know that I don’t really know her, Jack, and certainly don’t know her well. But just from the little bit of time I have been able to get to know her I don’t think she’d want this Jack. Not indefinitely. I don’t think she’d want machines keeping her alive.” Robby watches Jack carefully as Jack takes in his words. Devastation is quickly covered by anger. 

“I don’t fucking care. She should wake the fuck up then and not leave this to me. Not make me fucking kill her.” Jack knows his anger at you is misplaced and a cover for how much this conversation is hurting him. Anger is just easier to deal with than heartbreak and grief right now. He sees Robby go to speak. “Just fucking don’t Robby. Don’t. You’re right. You don’t fucking know her. And I don’t care. I don’t fucking care if she wouldn’t want it because I need her. And having her here with me like this is better than not having her at all.” Jack knows how selfish he sounds, how selfish he’s being.

Robby doesn’t say anything, waits until Jack glances over at him, tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, asking him ‘really?’ without a word. 

Jack sighs and looks back over at you shaking his head. “No,” he whispers. “She would hate it. We fucking talked about it once, way before this when it was on some show or movie we were watching. It would be cowardly and selfish of me to keep her here like this forever, just so that I wouldn’t have to deal with completely losing her and could live in a perpetual delusion that she’ll wake up tomorrow.” Jack gives a short and hollow laugh through his nose. “Right before I left to go down to the ED and help, we… argued isn’t the right word, but I don’t know what is. She mentioned it, her dying. That if she had already died, in the OR or at the courthouse then I could be properly grieving, and I cut her off but she was going to say that I could be working towards moving on.”

Jack feels guilty for getting angry at you, for being selfish. He knows you’d understand and wouldn’t care and wouldn’t want him to feel guilty but it doesn’t help. He swallows thickly and then takes in a deep breath, squeezing your hand, praying you’ll squeeze it back, even just a little. 

“But there’s no moving on from her.” Jack shakes his head as he looks down at you. “The problem is that I don’t think I’ll be strong enough to do it. To sign the damn papers,” Jack admits, voice wet with the tears lining his eyes. 

Robby nods slowly. “You are now and you will be then, if that then does ever come. You will because it’s for her. And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen two humans love each other as much as you do, the way you do. She would do anything for you. And I know you’d do anything for her, no matter how much it killed you inside. So I know that if that day ever comes you’ll be strong enough to sign for her, to do that for her.”

Jack’s silent for a minute, trying not to give into the urge to grab your shoulders and shake you awake. “I don’t know Robby. I don’t know how to talk to her like this. I try, but I just never know what to say other than I love her and please come back to me and please don’t leave me alone. And I hate it. She deserves more. For it to not be about me,” he whispers, stands and runs the back of his bent index finger over your face like he’s trying to memorize you. As if he hasn’t already. He’s teary, voice small and raw from all the tears he’s already shed. “So how do I let her be taken from me? How do I give her up, give up on her, tell her it’s okay to let go? How do I stand there and fight all my training and every instinct and just watch her die and know it’s my fault?”

Robby has to take a minute to compose himself because his heart aches for Jack. It’s hard to see your best friend, your brother, contemplating losing the love of his life. Even though all of Jack’s questions are rhetorical he answers the last one. 

“You don’t,” he says simply. “You get in bed with her and you hold her and find it within you to talk to her. Tell her all of your favorite memories together. Tell her what she means to you. Tell her you love her. And you stay there in bed holding her until she’s gone.” 

Jack takes in a shuddering breath as he sits back down in his chair. “Hope seems so worthless and useless right now even though it’s all I feel like I have left.” Jack grabs your hand again, brushes his thumb over your knuckles. “I hope I never have to sign those papers.” 

Robby sniffles a little, not crying, just emotional. “That makes two of us, brother.” 

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

“I think you should consider leaving your engagement ring here.” You and Jack are planning more for your trip to France, making packing lists. Well, you’re on the computer planning and making lists and Jack is chopping up ingredients for dinner. 

It’s been four days since the housewarming party. You feel like Jack has been more stressed lately, more on edge. Looking at you like he’s terrified of losing you again, like he did at times in the hospital and the first two days you were home.

“Why?” You pout at him from the stool you’re sitting on at the kitchen island. “I want to wear it and show it off and take photos with it on while we’re in France!”

“I know,” Jack hums lowly, his eyebrows raising a little as he focuses on chopping. “I worry about it getting stolen, you getting assaulted for it or something, especially in Paris.”

“But walking around with it on in Pittsburgh is okay?”

He sighs at you. He kind of hates that you said that because now it’s all he can think about. Whether he has put your life in danger for a third time by getting you a nice engagement ring. Because he’s already done it twice. When he didn’t check you over in the trauma room before letting you go and going to help Robby, and when he left to go down to the ED and wasn’t there to notice you going septic and throwing a PE. 

You’re the only one who would notice him stiffen the way he does, it’s so slight. You feel bad. You know he’s been struggling more the closer he gets to going back to work and having to leave you alone. Even starting with half shifts. And you know he’s struggling to talk about it with you because he doesn’t want to burden you with it or make you feel any guiltier. You’ve both fallen into that habit a little bit. 

“I really don’t think anyone is going to try to steal it off me or assault me to get it when I’m walking around with you.” You raise your eyebrows at him and give him a knowing smile, wait for him to lift his head to look at you once he’s finished chopping. He does. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” He points the knife at you teasingly and holds your gaze for a moment before grabbing something else to chop and getting back to it.

“But I don’t want to leave it here Peter!” you almost whine. It makes Jack chuckle to himself a little. “I don’t want to argue about it, but I really want to take it. I like showing it off, like everyone knowing I’m yours.” That makes him look up at you again and you smile at him and nod encouragingly. You can see the possessive look in his eyes, the way he breathes a little bit faster thinking about it. But he just clicks his tongue on the back of his teeth at you and shakes his head as he looks back down. “Okay, how about a compromise?”

“A compromise?” Jack echoes.

“Yes. A compromise.” 

There’s a beat where neither of you talk, only the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. Jack pauses his cutting and looks up at you. “Are you gonna tell me what the compromise is?” 

“I’m thinking of one,” you grumble, knowing how satisfied he’s going to be. 

“Oh,” he draws the word out teasingly, “she suggests a compromise before she even has one!” 

“I’ll come up with one, just give me a minute,” you huff. Jack hums at you again, keeps chopping. “Okay, yes! I have one. What if while we’re in Paris or whatever bigger cities or places you’d prefer I wasn’t wearing it on my finger you wear the ring around a chain on your neck? Even on the same one as your dog tags if you’re bringing them. People are much less likely to try to snatch it from your neck and run, plus it’ll always be covered by your shirt unless you’re going to start wearing deep v-necks, which I doubt.” You smirk. 

You watch Jack’s eyes slide from you to the wall behind you and glaze over. It’s clear he’s going back somewhere, you just don’t know where or why or what happened. The smirk slides from your face as it twists into concern.

He goes to say something but stops as your words fully process. Wear the ring around a chain on his neck. Like he did at your funeral. 

Jack drops the knife, it falls out of his hand and clatters a bit as it hits the counter. “Jack?” you whisper, your heart rate picking up. 

The nightmare plays on fast forward in Jack’s head, every emotion he felt when having it slamming into him all at once and making his head spin. With the massive flood of epinephrine, norepinephrine and cortisol all those emotions cause his body to release, Jack’s turning and leaning over the sink to be sick. 

It’s all too much. 

“Jack!” You’re off the stool and over by him in a second, rubbing his back. “Hey,” you murmur, “it’s okay, you’re okay.” You have no idea what’s going on with him, but have a feeling.

Jack shakes his head at you as he dry heaves a few more times, trembling like nothing you’ve seen from him before. “I’ve got you.” Your hand keeps rubbing circles on his back soothingly and it’s simultaneously comforting him and burning him, because it’s all too much. There are too many emotions. 

You were dead. He was at your funeral. It was so real. 

Tears start to stream down his face silently as he rinses the sink and his mouth. “We can get you to bed, okay? I’ll make you some broth if you feel up to it.” 

He can hear the anxiety in your voice, the worry for him, your love for him. He loves it, he does, truly, but it almost makes it worse because you were dead. And if you were dead, if you had really died, he wouldn’t have this. He wouldn’t be in sweatpants and an old shirt at home chopping things to make dinner for the two of you while you sit in the kitchen to be with him and plan your trip. You wouldn’t be rubbing his back and so worried about him. You wouldn’t be taking care of him and offering to make him broth. 

You simply wouldn’t be. 

Jack shakes his head and sniffles. He turns to you and your eyes widen when you see him crying, pain and a heartbreaking and agonizing sorrow etched into his face that threatens to bring you to tears. You immediately know what this is about. He doesn’t need to say anything. He’s not ill. But you’re not sure how to support him, what to say, what exactly is wrong. “Jack what’s-”

You’re cut off by him crumbling in front of you, grabbing at your forearms to pull you closer as he slides down the base cabinets to the floor, bringing you down with him. “I,” he tries to choke out, “I, I…” He shakes his head again. 

He can’t speak right now, and you know it. “Okay, it’s okay,” you tell him as you reach for him and pull him close to you as you press your back against the cabinet, letting him almost lay on you. 

Jack buries his head in your chest, careful not to press into your still healing sternum too hard, and clings to you, both arms wrapped tightly around you, one diagonal up your back, hand clinging to your shoulder for just a second before it slides over to your neck, two fingers pushing down. 

He’s looking for your pulse. 

“Oh, Jack,” you whisper, your own voice thick with tears now. “I’m here. I’ve got you baby.” You hold him just as tight, let one hand find his hair and run your fingers through it, scratch at his scalp at times, kiss the top of his head and nuzzle your nose into him in hopes of soothing him. Sometimes you rock a little, but you’re not sure if that’s more to comfort him or yourself. 

And you whisper little words of reassurance and, you hope, comfort to him. “I’ve got you.” “I’m here.” “You’re okay.” “I love you.” You hold him and let him weep into you. Let him keep his fingers pressed into your pulse point. Let him cling to you like you’re the only thing left in the world, because to him you are. You’re his whole world. 

It kills you, seeing him like this, hurting this badly. This deeply. You know it has to do with what happened, know that it’s been building up in him for a long time. That he hasn’t said anything about it, not because he was trying to hide it but because he just couldn’t. And you understand that. A whole lot.

“Here baby,” you murmur at one point, try to move his head a little which just makes him sob harder and hold you closer. “Shh, I’m not going anywhere, just trust me, okay? I think this will help.” You try again and this time he lets you move his head, lets you turn it to the side and move it over and then pull him back to your chest, keep your hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. He’s confused until he hears it. 

The rhythmic beating of your heart in your chest. 

It makes him tremble against you harder, clutch at you tighter. But you don’t care. You wouldn’t care if he held you so hard it hurt. You’d take on all the physical pain out there without a second thought and genuinely smile about it if it would take away Jack’s pain.  

It starts to pass the longer Jack is in your arms, ear to your chest listening to your heart beating, fingers pressing into your skin feeling your heart beating. It calms him. He quiets, reduced to only sniffles and hiccuped in breaths and swollen eyes and an ache so deep in his chest he’s not sure it can be fixed. But you’re with him, still holding him on the kitchen floor and brushing at his cheekbone and scratching at the nape of his neck and kissing his curls and whispering soft words of reassurance to him.  

You’re here. You’re in your shared apartment. You’re alive. 

You have to be, right? The sound of your heart beating and the warmth of your chest and your voice whispering quiet words to him has to be real. It would make sense for you to come up with the idea of him wearing your engagement ring on a chain around his neck all on your own as a compromise. It doesn’t mean he’s still in that nightmare and just starting to realize it. It means the two of you just think alike. Right?

You aren’t sure how long you end up sitting there on the floor together, his head pressed against your chest. It doesn’t really matter. You know he’s really starting to come down when his fingers no longer press into your neck to feel for your pulse. “I’m here if and when you want to talk,” you whisper. You don’t expect anything back from him and aren’t hurt when he remains quiet.

Eventually Jack pulls his head from your chest and looks up at you. After a few seconds of eye contact he pushes himself up and sits with his back against the base cabinet next to you. He wipes off his face with his hands and once he’s done, one of your hands immediately finds one of his and squeezes. He needs it. Little things like a hand squeeze from you to remind him that you’re still here with him. Eventually he lets his head tilt and rest on your shoulder. You turn your head, give him a lingering kiss to the temple and then rest yours on top of his. 

And then you just sit like that. For as long as he needs. Even when your ass goes numb and back stiffens a bit. You stay just like that with him. 

Jack loves the way you don’t press him. You don’t ask if he’s okay, or if he wants to talk about it, or tell him gently to talk to you. You just let him be as he comes back to himself fully. And he knows it’s not because you don’t want to talk about it or don’t want him to talk to you about it but because you understand that sometimes there is simultaneously too much and nothing to be said. So you let him be. 

After a while Jack takes a big breath in and slowly lets it out. You feel him pull his head a little so you lift yours up and look over at him as he looks at you. 

He looks wrecked in a way you’ve never seen before. Eyes red and swollen, lips a bit swollen too. Mouth set and lips pulled just the slightest bit down, hair fluffier and more askew than normal because of how much you’ve run your hands through it. His shirt is wrinkled, part of the neckline darker than the rest of the shirt from his tears. He looks haunted. 

But mostly it’s the way he’s looking at you that really shows how wrecked he is. You’ve seen Jack look at you a lot of ways, with a lot of different expressions, especially recently with everything that has happened. Happy, sad, like he’s amazed and can’t believe you’re alive, like looking at you hurts him a little because it reminds him of what he almost lost and who he couldn’t protect.

But you’ve never seen Jack look at you like this. He’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’re alive, but not in an incredulous, happy sense. Jack’s looking at you like he truly cannot believe you’re alive, is scared to believe it even for a second. Like he doesn’t trust the world that you are in fact alive, doesn’t trust himself and his ability to know whether you’re alive. Like you’re a hallucination or a mirage, or a ghost who has been living with him and he’s just realizing it. Like you’re a dream he’s about to wake up from. 

“I…” Jack tries to start, voice raw, as unsure and questioning and wrecked as he looks. He just keeps looking at you like he’s about to come back to reality and you’re about to disappear right in front of his eyes, just cease to exist. 

He shifts and leans off the cabinet, gets closer to you and takes your face in his hands. Jack holds your gaze how he loves to do, lets his eyes burn into yours as though they’ll give him the answer to whatever question it is he can’t speak. 

You lean your head into one of his hands a little and then Jack’s kissing you, pressing against your lips hard at first like he was bracing to just move through air and never actually find your lips. It’s short, his head pulling back from yours for a second to look you in the eyes again before his eyes drop to your lips. 

Glassy eyes look back up at you, questioning. You nod slightly, because of course he can kiss you. And he does. 

Jack pulls your head back towards his as he leans in, both of your mouths opening just slightly. He takes the opportunity, licks into your mouth and starts devouring you, his head moving slightly with each kiss and slip of his tongue back into your mouth. 

It’s greedy the way he kisses you, nose smushing into your face as you both start to breathe hard, the sound almost lost in between the noises of pleasure you pull from each other and the pops of your lips with each pass. Jack kisses you like he doesn’t believe you’re real. Like each kiss might be the last one he’s ever able to give you, like it’ll never be enough, like he’ll never have enough of you. It’s not something you’ve ever felt from him before. You can tell he’s scared in a way but you aren’t sure about what exactly. 

He keeps kissing you but his hands drop from your face to grab at the hem of your shirt, start sliding it up your body, stopping to pop the clasp of your bra as he works the shirt up and eventually over your head, helps you shrug your bra off. You expect his lips to return to yours immediately but they don’t. 

Jack stands as he tosses your shirt and bra to the side, hands reaching down for you and helping to get you up on your feet. Before you can say anything his hands are on your hips and his lips are back on yours. He walks you backwards to the kitchen table until your ass bumps into the edge of it. Without breaking the kiss he moves his from your hips and blindly wipes off the table, sending some mail and books and whatever else happened to be there clattering to the floor.

He finally breaks the kiss to give you a chance to breathe and so he can check there’s nothing on the table. “Jack,” you breathe out with some surprise. He grabs your hips and helps you sit on the edge of the table before stooping to bring his face back close to yours. 

“Please,” he whispers against your lips, “please. Please, I need this.” He pushes his lips to yours once again, licking into your mouth once again. “I need to feel you.” He feels your hands at the hem of his shirt and moves apart just enough for him to get it off and throw it to the floor. “I need you.” It’s pleaded, desperate and needy, but not erotically so. 

“Of course, always.” You let him support you as he leans over you and guides you down until your back rests against the table. “You have me, you always have me.”

It’s quick then, the way he tears off your bottoms and then his. You wrap your legs around him as he leans back over you, chest to chest and kisses you again, like he can’t get enough, like each kiss is a surprise he wasn’t expecting to actually get. He grinds himself into you as he does and you respond in kind, tightening your legs around him and letting your hips buck as much as they can against him to search out more friction. His hands roam your body, pressing into you to feel as much as he can, groping at your breasts and squeezing your hips as his lips stay on yours.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, hand sliding between the two of you to feel how wet you are for him. “Can you take me like this?”

“Yeah,” you pant softly, “yeah, please Jack.” You wrap your arms around his neck, hands tangling in salt and pepper curls you adore.

He shivers at the way you say his name, his lips leaving yours so he can look down at you as his fingers run through you and then over his cock to slick himself up as much as he can. “I need to know you’re real and still here. I need to be close to you.”

Jack notches himself in you and then moves to rest on his forearms with his hands holding your face, forehead resting against yours before he finally pushes himself into you slowly. His voice cracks with emotion part way through the needy and relieved groan he draws out as he pushes in. 

“Oh Jack,” you moan as you take a breath in and feel it catch in your throat. 

Once he bottoms out Jack stills, the two of you panting against each other’s lips until Jack’s are claiming yours once again. He stays still, lets himself relish in the way you taste and how you feel around him, so tight and warm and fluttering as you adjust to taking him with no real preparation. 

Jack finally draws his hips back slowly and steadily pushes himself back in with a grunt. “You okay?” Even with as out of his mind for you as he is, how desperate and needy and frantic he is to have you he’s still checking in on you. Would rather die than hurt you, especially like this. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “yes, Jack please. Need you.” Hearing that you need him has Jack pulling his hips back again, faster this time before snapping back in.

From there it’s all feral need and grunts and groans as Jack tries to be closer to you, to consume you, to be one with you. His strokes are hard as he tries to get as deep inside of you as he possibly can. His pace varies, keeps you on your toes, but it’s not deliberate this time. It’s Jack chasing what he needs from you however his body tells him, however feels right at that second. At some point one of his arms slides under your back, his hand wrapping over the opposite shoulder so that you tilt to the side just a little and he can pull you down onto him as he fucks you so hard your last clear thought is of concern he might break the table. 

Your hands tug at his hair, nails draw up his back when he starts mouthing at your neck, kissing and sucking, lips passing over the scar from your central line again and again. He rests his cheek against yours leaving his mouth near your ear allowing you to hear every little noise your body pulls from him. Jack is fucking you with pure need but it’s not an erotic need like it is sometimes when you tease him or he’s been thinking about you all day. It’s intimate. Jack needs you. He needs you. All of you.

Only you.

You’re so lost in the haze of pleasure that it takes you a moment to realize your cheek is wet where your and Jack’s touch. You realize he’s crying. “Jack?” You moan his name so sweetly for him, lace it with all the concern and worry and need you have for him. 

It makes him let out the smallest sob and breathe in hard through his teeth, shake his head a little against yours. He pulls his head from yours and looks down at you, hips slowing but not stopping. “Tell me you’re here,” a fresh wave of tears roll down his face and hit your cheeks. He’s unfairly beautiful when he cries. “Tell me this is real. That you’re real.” A few of your own tears slip out the corner of your eyes and roll down towards your ear. “Please,” his voice cracks, more of his tears joining your own on your face, “please be real. Please tell me you’re here and real and with me.”

You do. Over and over and over until his lips are back on yours and consuming you in a different way now. More confident, more convinced you’re real and here with him and letting him fuck you on your kitchen table to soothe himself and fix something inside of him he didn’t realize was broken. 

Letting him take solace from every part of you.

One hand slips between your bodies and with how well he knows you it’s not long before Jack has you soundless with pleasure for a moment as your orgasm crashes over you, voice coming back to moan out little whispers of his name, veiled pleas for him to take anything and everything he could ever need from you. 

And so Jack does. Lets himself give in and lose himself all the way in you, your name groaned with a relieved intensity you’ve never heard from him before, lower and more gravelly than usual right at your ear.

Jack works himself through it before stilling and resting his forehead back against yours, the two of you panting softly as you come down, bodies hot and sweat sheened and sticking together. “I love you,” Jack whispers, eyes opening and finding yours before kissing you, chaste but lingering. Just to feel you. 

“I love you too,” you murmur against his lips when you’re able, hand running through his hair and scratching at his scalp. Jack kisses your lips again and then your chin, down your neck and to your central line scar, lingering there before kissing down to the highest part of your thoracotomy scar. “Bed?”

Jack nods, lifts himself off of you and pulls out gently. He steps back and helps you up and off the table. “I should take care of all this.” He nods to the kitchen.

You shake your head and grab his hand. “The carrots and potatoes can live there overnight and it’ll be fine. We can order something from bed.” You squeeze his hand and pull him gently so he starts walking with you. 

Jack pulls back on your hand before you can get in bed, flicks his chin towards the bathroom. “Go,” it’s not an order, just a reminder. “We don’t want my… whatever that was to be the reason you get a UTI. You really don’t need that right now.” 

You smile at him gently and nod. Even after all the emotional turmoil he just went through, still is a little bit from what you can see in his eyes, he’s still thinking about you and your well being and keeping you healthy and safe. “You’ll get in bed?” 

He nods and drops your hand, sits on the edge and takes his prosthetic off as you go pee. He’s leaning against the headboard and staring into space when you get into bed. You slide up next to him so that your legs touch and lean back against the headboard, let your hand rest on his thigh and give it a little squeeze so he knows you’re here for whatever he might need.

“When you were in a coma,” Jack starts, voice strained and raw, “I started having nightmares.” He rests his hand on top of yours. You close your eyes and bow your head a little, heart sinking. “Some weren’t completely awful. But the one I got the most…” he trails off and shakes his head, grows quiet again. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you remind him softly, lean your head over and kiss his bare shoulder. 

“I know, but I want to. At least enough to explain what that was.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Jack.”

“I know but I want to tell you.” He pauses for a second. “The worst, and of course most frequent, one was where you died in the OR. And I had to hold your lifeless body and somehow force myself to walk away from you. In the nightmare I’m thinking back on that while I’m sitting at your funeral.” You blink away tears because you can’t even imagine the level of pain that must have caused him. Multiple times. “The details, I… They don’t really matter, right now. In the nightmare I wore your engagement ring, the one that never got to go on your finger because I never go to ask, I wore it on a chain around my neck.”

“Oh fuck Jack,” you cringe, closing your eyes and squeezing his thigh tight and hating yourself. “I am so fucking sorry.”

Jack finally turns his head to look over at you. “Don’t be. Seriously. You had no way of knowing.” You appreciate him saying it but it doesn’t stop the guilt that builds inside of you. You were the reason he had the nightmare in the first place and now you’re the reason he had to go right back there. “So when you, when it got brought up, it just made it all hit me again, all the emotions from that nightmare and it made me panic almost. That this wasn’t real, that you weren’t. And I lost it a bit and so I did whatever that was and then needed to be as close to you as possible.” He shrugs a little. “I needed to know you were real.” 

Jack’s hand slides under yours and picks it up, laces your fingers together and squeezes. You feel vaguely lightheaded by his admission and then berate yourself and feel guiltier for thinking about yourself when this is about Jack and him still needing you. “I,” you try to find words to say, “I’m sorry,” Jack shakes his head but you continue, “I can’t even begin to imagine how painful that must have been.” You pause and have to look away from him for a moment, can feel his eyes remain on you. “Or maybe I can, to some extent at least, and that’s why I’m sorry and wish I could take it all away from you, make sure it never happens again.”

“That one has only happened once since you’ve been home. The first night.” You feel a little relief at that, are able to look back up at him. “They’ve kind of changed though, honestly. It’s not holding your dead body in an OR anymore, it’s walking in the door from work or the store or wherever and finding your dead body on the floor or in bed or wherever. Complications. Something else random. Freak home deaths I’ve seen roll through work before.” He lets go of your hand to bring his hand to your face again. “I wake up and have to convince myself you’re here. I’ve gotten quite good at the art of taking your pulse on your wrist without you waking up.” He gives a little laugh through his nose, trying to infuse a little lightness. It doesn’t work. If anything your lips pull down a bit. “Sometimes I just lay awake for a while watching you breathe. Sometimes I cuddle up to you a bit closer to feel your chest rise and fall against mine. Sometimes I fall asleep counting the beats of your heart while I feel your pulse.”

You take in a shuddery breath, trying so hard to focus on him and helping him and being here for him and not on the way this is all your fault. “Do you want to talk or for me to just listen?” You don’t want to force him to truly discuss this with you if he’s not in the headspace right now and it won’t surprise you if he’s not.

Jack thinks about it for a second. “Listen, please.”

“Okay.” You nod at him. “I’m not saying this to start a conversation when you just told me you wanted listening but I just need to make sure you know. You can do whatever you need to do Jack. When you wake up from one. Wake me up. We can talk, we can just sit together, whatever you need, okay?”

He nods, pulls his hand from your face to wipe away the couple of tears that have fallen down his own during this conversation. “Actually when you shifted us earlier, in the kitchen. Pulled my head to your chest so I could listen to your heart. It helped a lot. I just didn’t want to hurt you, before. With your chest healing.” He tries to laugh softly at himself. 

You give him the best smile you can manage with all the guilt and self-hate swirling inside you. “You can roll me into whatever position you want so you can listen anytime.” You know he’s trying to keep the conversation light because he knows how hard hearing it is for you. But that’s not fair. You should be the one trying to keep it light for him, should be taking care of him. “We could get you another stethoscope to keep on your nightstand,” you offer. “Then you could really listen whenever you wanted.”

He gives you a little more of a laugh at that and it makes your small smile become a little more genuine. “Could, yeah. But I like having my head on your chest, feeling you. I think it probably helps ground me in its own way.”

“Makes sense.” You rest your left hand on his chest, push down a little extra hard with your ring finger so he can feel the band that lives there now. “Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy and that you didn’t have to. And I want to do whatever I can to help you because I don’t want you to suffer.” You stop yourself from adding the because of me that you want to so badly. 

Jack picks up your hand, brings it to his lips palm first and kisses the band of your engagement ring before flipping your hand and kissing to the side of it the best he can with the setting. He brings your hand to the side of his face and covers it with his as he leans into it. “You always help. Even when you’re just laying there asleep and don’t know it.” 

You give him a little smile and laugh through your nose, try your best to take his words to heart because you know how much he means them. Jack knows you’re struggling, he can read you like a book. But he senses that you don’t want to acknowledge it so he doesn’t bring it up. 

His stomach growls then which makes you laugh a little more and he huffs. “Ruined our moment.” 

“Nah,” you shake your head and pull your hand away and rub his stomach, push off the headboard to sit up more. “What do you feel like? Can’t have my man going hungry.” The smile you give him is genuine, all the way to your eyes this time and it makes him mirror you, that smile of his you love so much pulling onto his face. 

He widens his eyes at you for a second and raises his eyebrows and you already know what he’s about to say. “You.”

“Yeah, I walked into that one,” you click your tongue at yourself. Jack gives you a smirk. “I don’t think I’m going to be filling enough for that-”

“I could go for seconds. Thirds, even.” 

“Mm, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no.” You boop his nose and the way he scrunches his nose at it is so cute you could bite him. “Real food first. Me later, if you’re good.” He raises his eyebrows at you with a little smile. “What would you like? I’ll order.”

“Feisty. I’ll take it. Be so good for you so I can have dessert.” He nods all saccharine and put-on grin that makes you roll your eyes at him playfully. He thinks for a moment and then says the name of your favorite restaurant. 

You tsk at him and give him a really? look, but you’re smiling still, grinning, in fact. Like an idiot. It’s so sweet and so Jack, just one of those little casual ways he shows he loves you. 

“Whattt? I can’t want that?” 

“You can, but I don’t think it’s really your first choice, right now.” You shake your head a little as you speak. You start to slide out of bed and Jack whines, grabs at one of your arms. 

“Where are you going?” he pouts at you. 

“Gotta go get my phone so we can order, baby.” 

His pout lessens fractionally. “Alright, but hurry back.” 

“You’re very cute when you’re clingy,” you giggle at him as you get out of bed. He goes to make a smart comment back that he isn’t clingy but stops. He is right now and he doesn’t fucking care. He’s allowed to be. 

Jack has a favorite restaurant, just like you. Several, actually but you know the one that really tops the list. But you’ve also deduced that Jack has a favorite comfort restaurant that’s different from his favorite favorite. And you know what his favorite comfort meal from that restaurant is. So you add it, pick something for yourself and order it to be delivered before walking back into the bedroom with your phone. 

“Took you long enough,” he teases as you come into view. “What were you doing?”

“Ordering.” You toss your phone at him as you slide in and he unlocks it, reads it over. 

He swallows thickly and looks at you with glassy eyes. You make him feel more loved than he could ever possibly deserve, knowing him that well without him having ever said a word about it and doing it for him without asking. You give him a soft smile when you turn to look at him. “Okay?” 

“More than,” he whispers. “Thank you.” He pulls you closer to him so that you’re cuddling chest to chest, gives you the sweetest, simplest kiss. It’s everything. “You know,” he hums, starting to push you on your back. “I think you’re my appetizer and dessert.”  

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

“How about the day we met? We consider that our first date, it’s our anniversary,” Jack suggests. 

You and Jack are lounging on the couch together, half watching your show and half discussing wedding things. You’re not making any real plans, just thinking and dreaming out loud with each other. 

You can’t help but tease him. “Is that because you only want to have to remember one date?”

He shoots you a look. “No.” He wags his head at you as he says it. “I just thought it was kind of sweet. That’s our day, you know? And it falls on a Saturday that year.” He waves his phone that’s open to the calendar app at you. 

You grin at him. “You’re a romantic, Jack Abbot.” You’re crawling into his lap as you sing it, running your hands up his chest to hold his face so you can cover it in kisses.

“So you’ve said.” Jack moves his head and chases your lips with his trying to get a kiss on the lips. “Multiple times.”

“Because it’s true,” you mumble against his lips as he kisses you, running your hands through his curls.  

“Yeah, yeah.” He playfully waves you off as you settle on his lap perpendicular to him, one of his arms resting against your legs, hand spread over the thigh closest to him. His other hand rubs up and down your back absentmindedly. “You thought about where?”

“Mm,” you hum, look down at your engagement ring, “not so much. You?”

“Yeah,” he nods, squeezes your thigh. “I was thinking the bookstore.”

Your eyes come up from your ring and look at the wall in front of you for a second before looking at Jack. He can’t be serious. You open your mouth to say something, but close it as you struggle to find the words. 

“I didn’t expect speechless but I knew you’d love the idea.” Jack smiles. He uses the hand rubbing at your back to gently grab the back of your neck and bring your face close to his as if he’s going to kiss you. He drops his voice and lets a breath of hot air fan over your lips. “I’m fucking with you,” he murmurs before pulling his face away a bit and releasing you, letting his hand come down to your back again, a huge self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Jack!” He laughs at the shrill tone of your voice and the way you swat his chest playfully. 

“I really had you there for a minute,” he laughs as you fake pout at him. “But something I love about you is the way you were thinking so hard of a way to let me down without hurting me.”

“You did!” You huff at him. “I was sitting here thinking how am I going to explain to him that while I love our bookstore it doesn’t say wedding venue, nor do I want our wedding to be a near recreation of our first date with a bunch of extra people with us!”

Jack chuckles a little more. “I haven’t really thought about where either. Hard to think of where before you have a date to know the season.” You nod and hum, he makes a good point. “I only have one wedding requirement. And it’s not even really the wedding.” 

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow at him in intrigue. “What’s that?”

“I plan the honeymoon.” Both of your eyebrows raise at that and you cock your head at him. You don’t know what you expected him to say, but it wasn’t planning the honeymoon apparently. “And you don’t get to know where we’re going until we’re at the gate about to board.”

“How will I pack?” You look slightly stricken. “Jack, I love you and I trust you with my life, truly, but packing-”

“I’m going to give you,” Jack cuts you off with an oddly reassuring smirk, “two packing lists. You’ll make two piles. Once you’ve left to go get ready I’ll put one of the piles into a suitcase. That way I get my surprise and you’ve packed for yourself.”

You blink at him for a moment. “Jack,” you whisper, swallow hard and will away the tears you can feel forming. “You have this all planned out just to surprise me?”

“I thought you might like the idea, but it’s okay if you don’t.” He nods to emphasize that part. “But if we do decide to do it this way we’ll still talk about places of course, it’s not like I don’t want any input from you. I’ll just be the final decision maker.” 

“No, I love it.” The laugh you give him is breathless. “It makes me feel so loved and taken care of. It’s hard to wrap my head around.” You lean into him to give him a deep kiss. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I think the general idea came to me a couple weeks after I knew I wanted to marry you.”

You beam up at him. “That long?” Jack nods. “Wow.” 

“Did you have a moment?” Jack asks you. You furrow your brows at him and shake your head slightly to ask him to explain. “A moment when you knew you wanted to marry me. That you knew you’d say yes if I asked. It’s okay if you don’t, honestly.”

“Of course I do!” You click your tongue at him. You let out a short laugh. “It actually wasn’t long after yours. Like two-ish weeks later, maybe? Things had been adding up, there were lots of things. This was just the first moment where I really consciously thought it.” You smile at him, wrap one arm around his neck so your fingers can scratch at the back of his scalp and nape of his neck how he likes. 

“You had just worked I think five nights in a row helping cover shifts. We hadn’t spoken on the phone that day, but exchanged some texts in the morning before you got home and went to sleep. And I could tell just from them that you were so beyond exhausted. My day, well. It was probably the worst and hardest day I had ever had at work and I felt so selfish but once I was able to leave I just went straight to your place. Without asking. So I knock and wait, get ready to leave because I know you’re asleep but then you open the door in your pajama pants, you’d clearly just woken up. And you give me this little ‘Hey Doll, come in’ as you open the door. I was frozen by that point. You took one look at me, grabbed my hand, pulled me inside and sat me on your couch and then disappeared. At some point you came back and gave me a tight hug, kissed my forehead and said ‘I’ve got you.’ And the next thing I know you’re stripping me and getting me into the bath you’d apparently drawn. You sat on the floor next to the tub with me. I still hadn’t said a single word to you at this point. Not even hi. And then you start talking to me. Just talking. I don’t remember about what. But you knew just from looking at me that I needed help getting out of my head. And as I listened I finally found my voice and was able to say I was sorry. You asked why and I said something along the lines of I was being selfish and knew you were exhausted and shouldn’t have come and made you do all this just because I had a bad day. And then you said, ‘Don’t apologize for needing me. Ever. For anything or for any reason. The day will never come where you need me and I am too tired for you.’ It wasn’t a big deal or a huge declaration. Just a casual fact you were stating. You knew what I needed just by looking at me. You didn’t care that I didn’t say a word to you while you did all this stuff for me. You didn’t ask what was wrong or for me to talk to you. You just met me where I was. And as you were helping me out of the bath and drying me off with a towel I just had the thought. I want to marry him.”

You wipe a few tears from your eyes. “Sorry, that was probably way more of a story than it needed to be to answer your question.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Jack murmurs. His eyes are glassy just like yours, a bit red. He gives a soft laugh. “I just feel kind of bad now that I didn’t give that much detail.” 

“Don’t.” You shake your head at him. “I promise, if I had been down on one knee on this floor that story would have been a whole lot fucking shorter.” 

That makes Jack laugh properly which makes you laugh properly. You turn a little and slide your arms around his neck to hug him, his arms sliding around you in return and holding you close. 

You nuzzle into his neck and then pull back for a kiss, let Jack deepen it as he begins moving to get you on your back on the couch, propping himself up on his elbows on top of you to keep too much weight off your chest and abdomen. You have to break apart for air but Jack goes straight to your neck, kissing and sucking and pulling all those pretty little sounds from you that he loves. 

“We have a date,” you whisper, hands tugging at his curls a little. 

Jack pulls back from your neck to look down at you, both of you grinning at each other. “We have a date.” 

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

You and Jack walk into the Pitt together. He needed to grab some stuff and sign a few things and was going to have Robby drop it all off so he didn’t have to leave you. You haven’t been outside much since the shooting. But you convinced him that you guys should go together, that it would be good for him to see people. As long as he would drive you guys, which he would of course. 

Jack was weary at the idea. You seemed to be struggling a bit harder lately and he worried something about being in the Pitt specifically might be too triggering for you. He knows that you have a lot of unresolved anxiety and guilt about what happened still. And that, while you’ve spoken generally about feeling guilty for putting him through all of this, you, like him, struggle to talk about it with him because you see it as burdening him or guilting him.

But you reassured him that it would be fine. You’d been back to the hospital since everything for follow up appointments. Not to the Pitt, but if the hospital didn’t completely trigger you why would the Pitt? 

You feel a little twinge of something as you walk through the ambulance bay doors, the ones you’d come through that day. Jack can tell and he squeezes your hand, stops and pulls to the side. “You sure about this? We can leave, right now.”

You shake your head. “No, no I’m sure. It’ll be good for me. I’m okay, really. It was just a little second of something.” 

He eyes you for a second but nods and starts walking you further in. It’s busy, nobody notices either of you as he leads you over to the break room. “You want to wait here? Shouldn’t take long. You can check the fridge. Anything with Robby’s name on it you can steal.” 

That makes you laugh, helps you relax. “I’ll wait here, yeah. Go do your thing, Dr. Abbot.” You wink at him. 

Jack lets out a little chuckle and shakes his head. “Don’t even start with me, Doll.” It makes you giggle as he leans down to kiss you. “I won’t be long, okay?” You nod at him, take a seat as he walks out. 

You scroll on your phone for a few minutes before your curiosity gets the better of you. You walk over and peek out the window of the door. It’s constant movement right now, people barely acknowledging each other as they rush to get somewhere else. You open the door and step out, just to look around. 

Before you’re even really aware of it you’re standing in front of one of the trauma rooms. That trauma room. The parts you can remember play in your head. Hugging Jack, Robby calling him over, you realizing what had happened and calling to Jack. And then nothing. Standing here you can only imagine what it must have been like for Jack, for him to have seen where you were shot and then watch you collapse. And then you made him live in the hospital with you for weeks. And now you’re making him stay home with you. Sometimes your guilt makes you feel like his jailer. 

Jack chats with Robby at the desk while he fills out one of the papers, gives whatever info it is HR so desperately needed to process all his leave correctly. Robby’s mid sentence when Jack spots you just in the corner of his eye, turns to see you standing in front of the trauma room. Jack leaves without a word to Robby and strides to you. 

“Hey,” he calls out as he gets close so that he won’t scare you when he steps in front of you and puts his hands on your arms. He sees that your eyes are a little glazed over when he gets a good look at you. “Why don’t you come over to the desk with me, yeah?” He’s not going to ask you why you were there like you’re a child who needs to explain yourself to him. He’s just going to redirect. “Yeah?” He asks again as he cups your face with one hand. 

“I just wanted to see. I, I got… curious. Just wanted to watch.” You explain anyway. “And then I was here.”

“That’s okay, Doll. You can sit at the desk with me, yeah?” 

You look around. There’s a chair against the wall a bit down, not facing the trauma room. “I’ll sit there. If that’s okay. Then I can watch.”

Jack glances over. “Yeah, that’s fine, that’s okay.” He walks you over to it, squeezes your hand. “I’m almost done, I promise.”

Being away from the room and back in Jack’s space snaps you back a little. “Okay, Peter.” You smile at him before he walks away. 

After a few minutes sitting there by yourself a woman rolls her wheelchair up to you. “And who are you that they’ve got sitting in time out?”

You glance around for a second to see if anyone’s coming after her and when nobody does you figure fuck it, and answer. “I’m Jack, um, Dr. Abbot’s fiancée.”

“Oh you lucky girl,” the woman smirks at you. “I’m Myrna.”

“Oh!” You smile widely at her. “Yes! I’ve heard a lot about you from Robby!”

“Have you now? Fruitcake’s talkin’ about me outside of this shithole. I knew I had that cocksucker wrapped around my finger.”

“Fruitcake?” You laugh. “That’s what you call Robby? Fruitcake?” 

“Yeah,” she nods. “He loves it.” Myrna gives you a conspiratorial wink. “He pretends it doesn’t, but I know it makes him feel things.” 

At the desk Robby looks up, sees you and Myrna talking and you laughing. “Oh that’s not good.” 

“Hm?” Jack raises his brows and then looks up. He smirks. “Not for you, but I think it’s going to be pretty funny for me.” Jack signs the last form and they both walk over to you. You and Myrna quiet as they get closer. 

“Myrna, are you harassing Jack’s fiancée?” Robby asks sternly, crossing his arms. 

“Not at all Fruitcake!” You answer for her. “We were just having a little chat.” 

Robby lets out a big sigh as Jack laughs. “See man, I told you. Not good for you, funny for me.” 

“Actually, we were talking and Myrna is free, Robby. She can be your plus one to the wedding! You said yesterday you were still looking!”

“That sounds perfect!” Jack smirks, clapping Robby on the shoulder. “I’ll let you see my vagina again for free Fruitcake,” Myrna offers, raising her eyebrows at Robby. 

Robby lets out another sigh and hangs his head. “The roof doth beckon.” 

You and Jack laugh while Myrna swats at him. “Ready Doll?”

“Yeah.” You look at Myrna. “It was lovely meeting you Myrna, I look forward to seeing you again.” You turn your attention to Robby, disguising your smirk with a warm smile quite well. “Bye Fruitcake!” You lean up and give Robby a quick kiss on the cheek as Jack snorts a laugh and holds his hand out for you. 

As the two of you walk away you hear Myrna giving Robby more shit.

“How come she’s allowed to kiss you on the cheek, cocksucker, but when I try you threaten to call the cops?” You and Jack laugh with each other as you walk out the ambulance bay doors to go back home. 

That night Jack thinks it’s a little strange, how long the shower has been running. And how it doesn’t sound like you’re in it. There’s no pause to the water raining down on the tiled shower floor, no slaps of water hitting against the floor suddenly when you step to rinse your hair or body, no muffled rain sound when you let yourself stand under the stream and soak. Only the uninterrupted sound of water raining from the shower head onto the tile. 

He glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand. You have to have been in there for at least thirty minutes. Jack looks back over at the bathroom door. It’s unnerving. Something is wrong. 

He gets off the bed, shirtless and just in his sweatpants. You guys had been winding down for the night before you decided to shower. He tries the handle. It’s unlocked. There’s an unspoken rule between the two of you that you can enter without asking if the door is unlocked. 

“Doll?” Jack calls to you softly as he opens the door. 

It’s like you don’t even hear him. Jack finds you in only your underwear staring in the mirror at your scars, one hand hovering over the bottom of the long laparotomy scar running up your stomach, another over your mouth, tears streaming down your face. Being at the Pitt today pushed you over some edge you didn’t realize you were so close to.

He knows now that you were using the sound of the shower to hide your muffled sobs. 

His eyes run over each of your scars, starting with the one up near your neck from your central line, that one fading quicker with how small it is, especially in comparison to the others. From there his eyes move down until he hits the scar from your thoracotomy. He traces the line with his eyes before he finds the laparotomy scar and lets his eyes drag along it. And then his eyes move over to the more circular scar. The bullet hole. 

“Doll, sweetheart,” Jack keeps his voice low as he walks into the bathroom. He steps over to the shower first and turns it off. Even that hardly seems to get through to you. He sees your eyes leave yourself in the mirror and flick to him for just a second. The tears start to fall harder. 

Jack walks up behind you so that his warm, bare chest presses against your back, his hands resting on your hips and lips kissing at your neck. Not teasing, just loving, soft and sweet and trying to soothe you when he knows words are only going to go so far. 

“What if you can never look at me the same way again?” You finally whisper, moving your hand from your mouth. 

You can see his brows furrow and a look of confusion fall over his face. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve kissed all of them, that you did the first time we had sex again after what happened. But I see you looking at them all, all the scars, whenever one is visible. And so what if you can never look at me the same way again, especially when they’re visible. What if my body is just always a reminder of one of the worst days of your life? A visual reminder that sends you right back there, that just, that just tortures you!” You let out a quiet sob. “What if that’s all you can ever see when you look at me?”

Jack takes in a deep breath and you can feel his chest press into you a little more as he does. He catches your eye contact in the mirror. “Doll,” he murmurs, “I think that you misunderstand why I look at your scars whenever one is visible.” Jack slides his hands from your hips around your front in a kind of backwards hug, pulls you back closer to him a bit. 

Your chin trembles a little. “Oh?”

He nods. “Will you turn for me? Sit on the counter?” Jack tilts his head a little so that it rests against yours. “You can say no and I’ll still tell you of course. You know I just like my eye contact.” He says it with just a hint of a smile and self-teasing tone to try and get you to smile. 

And it’s small, but it works. Your lips pull up just slightly for a second. You chew on the inside of your cheek for a second before you turn around and let him help you get you up to sit on the edge of the counter. 

“Thank you.” Jack steps between your legs and leans down to kiss your forehead. “You want me to grab your shirt?” He’s cognizant of the conversation you’re having and the fact that you’re topless, scars on display. You give him a little nod and he grabs it from the pile of your clothes you made to the side of the door. “I say your shirt, but I really mean my shirt, don’t I?” 

You’d been wearing one of his old shirts that’s a bit oversized on him, soft and worn in and smelling like him. You stay quiet and nod. Jack’s heart almost throbs in his chest at how much he hates seeing you like this, this upset. Your tears have stopped now though. Little victories. Once it’s on he rests his hands on the tops of your thighs, rubs his thumbs in what he hopes are soothing circles. 

“Your scars don’t remind me of one of the worst days of my life. Looking at them doesn’t send me back to the hospital or torture me. Pretty much the exact opposite.” This time it’s your brows that furrow. “They’re a reminder of what happened, sure. Of what I almost lost. But it’s that part that’s important. What I almost lost.” 

“You know what you didn’t have in any of my nightmares?” Your eyes widen a little because you know what he means, what he’s going to say. “Scars. You only had wounds, fresh, stitches still in them. No scars.” Jack squeezes at your hands. “When I was in that operating room holding your dead body, you didn’t have any scars. So your scars, looking at them, when I look at them, they don’t torture me or send me back to one of the worst days of my life. They tell me that you’re alive. They remind me how hard you fought to stay here with me. They remind me how strong you are. They remind me that you’re here with me, healing and living.” 

Jack moves his hands from your legs and sets them on the outside of each of your thighs on the counter, hunches over a bit and leans on them as he moves forward to kiss your forehead again. You bring your arms up and set them on either side of his neck, fingers playing in the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Your scars are proof that you’re alive. And so your scars will never be anything less than one of the most beautiful and important and comforting things I could ever look at.” He says it so seriously, so firm and settled, looks you straight in the eye as he says it. It makes a few tears slide down your cheeks again. “Second only to your face and you in general, okay?” He nods as he says it. 

He brings a hand up to wipe away the tears that have fallen. “Can I give you a kiss?”

You nod as a couple more tears fall. Jack takes your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilts your head up so he can kiss you. It’s gentle, soft and sweet and lingering as he just holds you there. He pulls back but then goes back for another quick one. 

Both you and Jack are surprised you haven’t started fully bawling into him, but there’s something in your chest that stops it from coming out like it needs to. You couldn’t describe it if you tried. 

“Bed? Or you wanna shower?”

It takes you a moment to answer. Not to decide. Just to answer. “Just bed, please.”

“Of course, Doll.” Jack steps back from between your legs and helps you get off the counter safely before taking your hand and leading you back to your shared bed. You both slide in and Jack takes his prosthetic off and gets an arm around you, pulls you into him as he leans up against the headboard. 

You let him, let your head rest on his chest and let his arms wrap around you and let him hold you close as you think about everything he said. You believe him, you do. You know he would never lie to you and when you think about it all it makes sense. You just wish it were the same for you. Wish you could look at them and feel something, anything other than crushing guilt. 

Because for you they’re a reminder of a traumatic event but more than that they’re a reminder of what you put Jack through. What you continue to put him through now as you try to heal physically and mentally. 

Sometimes, maybe a lot of the time recently, you go back to that place. That place where you just wish it would stop, be over for the both of you. Wish you hadn’t made it out of the OR or the courthouse. That place where your brain tells you that Jack would be better off without you, that it’s unfair of you to ask him to do this all with you, that he’s only here with you still because he feels some sort of weird responsibility for what happened to you, that even if he doesn’t think he could, he would survive losing you and he would properly grieve and he would move on and find someone else. Someone who’s less work, less of a burden. Someone who’s better. That it wouldn’t even be that hard. 

The rational part of you knows that those thoughts aren’t true. That Jack is here because he loves you, more than anything, that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. That he would not survive losing you or properly grieve or move on. That if he knew he would tell you that you’re not work at all, not a burden, that he could never do better. That he had an entire nightmare about having to bury you and it hurt so bad that even weeks later when he thought about it he was physically sick and broke down in the kitchen. 

Jack doesn’t push you, just like you never push him. He does get worried though. He hates to see you cry but this silence is somehow worse. 

“You wanna go to the bookstore tomorrow?” He asks it just to ask. Just to fill the silence and help distract you and maybe keep you out of your head. Or from getting further into it. 

You can feel the vibration of him speaking as your head rests on his chest. “Hm?”  

He kisses the top of your head. “Bookstore tomorrow?”

“Maybe, yeah.” It’s an odd answer from you. “I don’t know.” 

Jack nods slowly. “It’s okay to not know. And I’m here if you want to talk or have me listen. Whatever you need.”

You hum at his words. “I don’t know anything anymore Jack,” you admit. 

You feel his arms hold you a little tighter. He doesn’t understand and something about the way you say it scares him a little. “What do you mean?”

The something in your chest that was blocking everything from coming out starts to crack. “I don’t know,” you whisper, high pitched and cracking. “I don’t know how to do this.” You pull away from him and move so that you’re sitting next to him with your legs crossed so that you can face him. 

“I know I’m in therapy. And I know it helps. And I hate to think about what I’d be like without my therapist.” You shrug, chin trembling and tears lining your eyes as you look at him. You look so sad and it kills him. 

“But I still don’t know how to do this Jack. How to heal, how to grieve. I don’t know how to heal the tremendous guilt I feel. And everyone says to let myself grieve and what the fuck am I grieving? I don’t have anything to grieve. I didn’t lose anything! Not like you. It’s not the same as what you went through. You lost a piece of yourself. I happened to get shot and spent time in the hospital and yes I almost died but I didn’t lose a piece of me. And so I don’t know what I’m grieving and I don’t know how to grieve or what I’m grieving or how to heal from this… this amorphous concept. This thing, that just happened to me. This event. And I shouldn’t need to! I shouldn’t need to grieve or heal. There’s nothing there. I don’t have anything to grieve or heal from, and I shouldn’t be like this! And I’m not trying to throw what happened in your face Jack, I’m not, I promise, and I’m not for a second saying you somehow had it easier because there was a more tangible thing to grieve, if anything it’s the opposite, you lost a piece of yourself and I lost nothing. You had so much to grieve and heal from, you needing to grieve and heal and struggling that makes sense. I lost nothing. I don’t even know what I have to grieve. I don’t know.” 

All the tears in your eyes spill over at once. You bring your shoulders up to your ears in a held shrug. “I don’t know, Jack.” He’s never heard you sound so small. Not even that ‘okay’ you gave him in the hospital was like this. The guilt and shame and embarrassment all flood you, make it hard to look at him. “I didn’t say anything even though I’ve been struggling because-” 

You shake your head, try to wipe some of the tears off your face, look down at your hands in your lap. “I just don’t know how to do this, whatever this is. And it’s like recently I’ve lost all the words to even try and begin to explain how I feel or felt. I lost all the words.” You force yourself to look back up at him because when you admit this and apologize you need to be looking at him. “I lost all the words and my head got so fucked up that I didn’t know how to ask for help, from anyone.” 

Jack catches the change in tense. You had said you don’t know but now you’re saying you didn’t, like somewhere along the way in this conversation, this admission, this time with him, you found the words again. 

You shake your head a little as more tears slip down your cheeks. You whisper now, voice thicker than he’s ever heard with emotion. “Not even you. I didn’t know how to ask you for help Jack.” You try to hold back a small sob through your teeth. “And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I just didn’t know, I wanted to, I just couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-” You’re cut off by the wracking sob that you’re finally able to let out as that something in your chest shatters.

“Okay, shh.” Jack shushes you softly as he reaches for you while you let yourself fall forward into his chest, rolling on your side slightly to get your legs stretched out as he pulls you on top of him and cradles you against his bare chest. He isn’t shushing you to get you to stop, only for the comfort of it.

Jack hates this. He hates seeing you suffer so thoroughly. He hates the way he can’t hug you and put you back together, the way he can’t fix this for you, can’t take away your pain. Can’t take on all of the pain for you. Jack believes you when you say you didn’t know how to ask, knows that you weren’t trying to hide it from him, just like he wasn’t trying to hide his shit from you. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He repeats it as he continues to hold you, rocks with you at times like you did with him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” “I’ve got you.” “I’m here.” “You’re okay.” “I love you.” One arm keeps you close, his other hand rubbing your back in circles. He knows there’s very little he can do right now except hold you through it. 

With time, you run out of tears, exhaust yourself out of crying and just sniffle and hiccup into Jack. He keeps holding you, doesn’t push for more from you. 

“It’s just so hard.” Your whisper breaks the silence after a good five or so minutes. 

You can feel Jack nod. “Talk or listen?” he whispers. 

You try to think about it. You’re not really sure what you want. “I don’t know,” you admit, “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” You try to stop yourself from getting worked up again, the reality of one more thing you don’t know hitting you hard. 

“Shh,” Jack soothes you, “it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize and you don’t need to know. It’s okay. I promise.” His hands rub up and down your back and he kisses the top of your head. With how escalated you are right now he thinks eye contact will be too much so he just holds you tight as you are. “I’m going to talk. And if you want me to stop, just say so, okay?”

You nod. Jack takes a breath in as he tries to think of how to start and how he wants to say what he has to say. “You don’t ever need to apologize for struggling and not knowing how to ask for help.” There’s a pause as Jack realizes how guilty he feels about that. He knows he can’t focus on himself right now. You need him. “I think maybe we need to try and find something that you could do, that both of us could do honestly, that doesn’t require words but would let the other know we needed help. So then we don’t need words and can still get help.”

“Probably, would be good, yeah,” you mumble against him.

“Good. We’ll figure something out, promise.” He’s quiet for a moment to give you the chance to say you’ve talked enough for the night, but you don’t. “As for the other part, I know and understand and hear you when you say that you don’t know what you’re grieving and that you don’t have anything to grieve. But Doll, you do. You have so much to grieve, so much you are grieving even if it’s hard for you to see or understand right now. There doesn’t have to be some tangible loss like a foot or a person for you to have something to grieve. I hate it, and I wish that I could make it different and better for you, but you did lose a piece of yourself.” Jack feels new tears wet his chest but you don’t ask him to stop or make a noise so he continues. He knows he’s not what’s making you cry. That it’s just hard to hear and realize. “You lost a piece of yourself the moment that gun went off, and the moment you watched someone die in front of you,” he addresses the one thing you don’t talk a lot about because you’re not ready yet. It took a while for you to even be able to tell him. “And the moment,” he has to take a breath to steady himself because it’s still so hard to say, “the moment that bullet hit you, and when you almost died and over weeks in the hospital. All of those things take something from you, even if it’s not something tangible. You’ve lost a piece of yourself. And you’re grieving the person you were before you lost it. You’re grieving the you who didn’t know this type of violence, the you who didn’t know what it felt like to be shot, or what it felt like to be drowning in your own blood, or what it felt like to be septic or what it does to you to watch someone die in front of you or how it feels to see reminders of what you went through permanently on your skin. You’re grieving the person you were. And you’re grieving other things that I don’t know because I’m not in your brain. But those ones I said, those are ones I can see you grieving and struggling with and I hope it doesn’t feel like I’m being condescending or trying to define your grief for you, because I’m not. I’m just trying to tell you what I see in the hopes that it’ll help you be able to see, or give you a starting point.”

You shake your head against his chest. You know he’s not doing any of that, he didn’t even need to say it but you find it sweet that he did. “I know,” you sniffle. “I do. And it does help and somewhere deep down I know what I’m grieving, all of those things. Some things I probably can’t articulate. I just feel like I don’t know how to grieve. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to grieve obviously but I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s all the guilt making me feel like I don’t deserve to grieve or heal and should be stuck in this weird limbo forever or what. I just don’t know how.”

You both sit with your words for a minute. “I wish I had answers,” Jack finally murmurs. “But I’m not sure if anybody really knows how to grieve.” He tries to think of more to say that might be comforting or helpful. Before he can you speak.

“I got you all wet and snotty, I’m sorry.” You lean off his chest a little and put your hand under your shirt and bring it up to try and wipe him off. Jack understands you. You’ve talked enough for the night. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” Jack laughs softly, grabbing at your hand to get you to stop. “Two of the most benign bodily fluids I’ve had on me, and they’re yours. Plus, I think I’ve done the same to you recently.”

“That’s different.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” he shakes his head, gives you a little tap on the ass. 

“It’s true!” you protest. “I was wearing a shirt. You’re not. That’s different.”

“Still.” He knows you’re technically correct. “I did the same to you. And I’m pretty sure I cried tears onto your face while we were, you know… at the table.”

You burst out laughing. “While we were at the table? That’s what we’re calling it?”

“It’s not incorrect.” He shrugs, beaming just from hearing you laugh and being the one to pull it from you. 

“Well, actually, I think it was more you were at the table. I was on the table,” you point out. 

Jack shakes his head and smiles at you. “Prepositions are overrated.” 

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

You and Jack don’t argue often. But you’re humans. Humans who went through a major trauma together. And humans aren’t perfect. Individually or as a couple. 

Neither of you even remember how it started. And you’ve somehow moved far, far away from what you were initially discussing and starting to bicker about. But you’re here now and things are escalating into a kind of argument. Even with the escalation you never raise your voices at each other, never yell. Still. It’s neither your nor Jack’s finest moment. 

Jack has never pressured you into going outside. He knows it’s still hard for you, knows how much it scares you. But he also knows that you really need to and that it’s never going to get less scary. He knows that he needs to go outside but doesn’t want to leave you, feels like he can’t leave you or something will happen like when he left you that time in the hospital. And you know that you need to go outside. It’s just so scary. You were shot. You’ve put Jack through so much, and when you think about outside you think about what if something else happened, when will it be too much for him, you can’t keep asking him to do this.

Jack isn’t pressuring you to go outside but he does ask. Again. In the space of minutes.

“I don’t want to, Jack.” Your tone has a snappy edge to it. You’re getting frustrated. At yourself more than Jack. 

“You’re going to have to go outside eventually, Doll. For more than me driving you to a doctor or therapy or the bookstore.” Jack tries to keep his tone even. He’s getting frustrated too, also more at himself than you. Something about his words stings when you know he doesn’t mean them to, know it’s because you’re escalated and more sensitive in a way. The way he says it makes it seem like he’s not doing those things with you, just driving you somewhere. Chauffeuring you. Like he doesn’t want to be doing it. “Around the block, please. Nothing major. I’ll be with you the whole time, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You shake your head from where you’re sitting on the couch, knees coming up to your chest. “I don’t want to. Asking me eight more times isn’t going to change my answer.” 

“I’m worried about you!” Jack stands across the living from you in jeans and a shirt. Actually dressed compared to you in lounge clothes that are effectively pajamas. “I’m not trying to pressure you,” you can’t help the little face you make at that, “I’m really not, I promise. I’m just worried. You need to go outside. Get some fresh air. You’re holding yourself hostage here. You’re holding me-”

Jack stops as soon as he realizes what he was about to say. But he knows from the look on your face that it’s too late. And he’s right. It hits you like a slap to the face, far worse than he even realizes or could imagine. Because you’ve never really explicitly or in any detail told Jack about the guilt you have from effectively asking him to do all of this with and for you, about how guilty you feel that his entire life has been turned upside down and that he was confined to the hospital and is now confined to home because of you, because you’re scared to go outside. About the guilt of feeling like his jailer. Or hostage-keeper, apparently.

It’s a silent type of panic. One that pulls a band around your chest and stomach making it hard to breathe and sends adrenaline through your veins to chill your fingers and toes and has tears hitting your eyes. 

“Doll, I didn’t-”

“No, Jack, finish the goddamn sentence.” Your voice is eerily calm now. Jack takes in and lets out a breath, tilts his head and goes to speak. “No Jack. Finish the fucking sentence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know that. I wasn’t thinking when I said it, phrased it like that.” Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Phrased it like what? Like you resent me? Like you’re getting tired of me? Of having to take care of me?” You’re pushing some of his buttons now, a little more deliberately than he had initially pushed yours. 

Jack clenches his jaw and tries to breathe through his hurt and rising frustration. “I don’t resent you, nor am I getting tired of you or having to take care of you.”

“You just feel like I’m keeping you hostage in your own home?” It’s cold, the way you say it. Icy. The guilt eats away at you. You hate yourself for what you’ve put him through. 

“You won’t even try, Doll! I know you know I need out of this house and you won’t even try!” A push back at your buttons. Jack knows that it’s not a matter of trying. He knows it’s not that simple. Just like you know he isn’t growing tired of you or caring for you. 

“You won’t try leaving me alone,” you fire back. “I got fucking shot and I don’t want to go outside. So why don’t you try just leaving me here alone if you want to go outside that badly?” That one really hits a nerve, harder than you realize because Jack hasn’t directly expressed just how guilty he feels about what happened when he left to go down to the ED that time in the hospital. How fucking responsible he feels for what ended up happening, for you almost dying. How he thinks it’s completely his fault and could have been prevented, easily. 

“Because the last time I left you alone you ended up coding in front of me and coming a centimeter and a half away from dying!” Jack takes a quick breath. He hates himself for what he let happen to you. “You don’t even know what you don’t fucking know! I watched my best fucking friend intubate you and do CPR on you and shock you. I watched them crack your chest. I have seen your literal fucking heart.” That’s all new information to you and it makes you hate yourself a little bit more even though you know that wasn’t Jack’s intention. “I have sat by you while you were in a coma for five fucking days, all because I-” 

You cut him off before he can finish his sentence. All because I left you and so I wasn’t there to notice you getting sicker and to feel your fever before you went septic and threw a PE. 

“Oh well I am so sorry Jack, that I went to work and got shot and almost died-”

“Don’t.” The way he says it is almost dark, low and deadly serious, face set and eyes piercing the thick tension between you. That’s the line for him. The almost flippancy in your tone. 

Jack holds his hands up. “I need air.” You don’t say anything as he walks over to the entryway and puts on his shoes. “I love you.” He puts his hand on the door handle and pauses.

“I love you too.” The door opens, Jack walks out and it shuts, key turning the deadbolt to lock a few seconds later. 

The sudden quiet of your apartment is what seems to bring you back down. You take a gasping breath in as everything you said to him sinks in. You bring a hand to cover your mouth, tears wetting the back of it. You’re pretty sure you’ve never hated yourself more. 

You stay there on the couch, are stuck there really, unable to bring yourself to move. All you can do is cry and think about how to apologize to Jack. You start ruminating and edging toward panic thinking about whether he’ll be able to forgive you, whether you guys will be able to work through this. You know it’s panic and that you guys will be able to. That both of you said things you didn’t mean and that were designed as jabs at the other. But yours feel so much worse than anything he said to you. Even when Jack forgives you, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself. 

Jack takes a couple of steps away from your apartment door but stops. He can’t. He can’t go any further. He knows he needed air and was right to step out and get some and help diffuse things between the two of you because that conversation was not going anywhere. But his fear is still there. So he walks back and slides down the wall right to the side of your door, convinces himself that this way he’ll hear you fall, if something happens. He’ll know. 

Sitting in the quiet brings Jack back down too, gives everything he said to you the chance to sink in. He runs his hands over his face and through his hair before bringing the heels of his palms to his eyes and pressing in. He’s pretty sure he’s never hated himself more. He gets panicky too, it gets hard for him to imagine how you could ever accept his apologies, how he could ever make this right. He knows that you’ll forgive him, and that you’ll work this out. He just doesn’t know how he’ll forgive himself.

Neither of you even cares what the other said to you. Not really. Both of you can hardly even remember what the other said to you now, in part because it doesn’t matter. It was said out of frustration and hurt and a deep grief, none of it was meant. Things just boiled over. And in part because all you can remember is the terrible things you said to the other. 

Jack doesn’t sit there long. It can’t be more than twenty minutes. You’re on your feet the second you hear the door start to unlock, walking closer to it and trying to wipe the tears from your face quickly. Jack pushes it open and looks at you, looks just as devastated as you feel and you hate it. He walks in and closes and locks the door. 

“I’m so sorry.” You both say it at the same time and it makes you smile a little at each other. You’re both moving then, walking towards one another until you meet and pull each other into the tightest hug. 

“I was so out of line Jack, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it.” Jack can feel your tears wet his neck and it makes him squeeze you a little tighter. 

“I was too. Way out of line. I didn’t mean it either. I’m so sorry, Doll.” Jack kisses the top of your head. 

The anxiety hits you a little harder being in Jack’s arms for some reason and you start to tremble. “I feel so awful, and I promise the tears aren’t manipulative or for guilt or to distract, I’m just so sorry and I hate myself for what I said and I don’t want to lose you.”

Jack frowns to himself. He’d like to have a strong word with whoever made you feel like you have to explain your tears. “I promise you that I never, for even a second, thought that. Now or any time in the past. I don’t want you to hate yourself, but I get it because I hate myself too right now. I don’t want to lose you either.” 

A few tears of Jack’s own slip down his face as he says it at the thought. “You’re not going to lose me,” you whisper.

“And you’re not going to lose me,” he whispers back. “Let’s go to bed.”

You pull away from him a little. “We can go out, if you just give me a couple of minutes to change-”

Jack shakes his head. “I don’t want to go out right now, I just want to be in bed with you, holding you close.” Jack brings a hand to your face and cups it, brushes some of the tears away. “I’m just as insecure as you are right now. Just as shaken. And not by anything you said. By myself, for what I said.”

You lean into his hand. “How do you always manage to do that?” Jack raises his eyebrows to seek clarification. “Read me so well. Know how I’m really feeling.”

He shrugs, like it’s simple and obvious. “You’re my favorite book. I’ve got you so well memorized you’re an easy read.” You give him a sad nod and look down at his chest. “Hey,” he guides your head back to look at him when you don’t resist. “That was so cheesy and deserved at least a pity laugh.” 

You give him the smallest one through your nose. You love this about him, it’s one of the ways he takes care of you when you’re upset, tries to make you laugh a little when appropriate to help distract your mind. Usually it works. You’re just a little too shaken yourself for it to right now. 

“I,” you try to find the words. “I’m not upset or shaken by anything you said either. I just want to make sure you know that.” 

“I do.” Jack nods. “Honestly Doll, I barely remember what you said to me. All I can hear in my head right now are the things I said to you.”

You give a slightly bigger laugh through your nose. “Same. I can only hear myself, only remember my words.” You know you’re preventing him from getting you in bed where he wants to be, but you have one last thing to say. “I don’t want that to ever happen again Jack, I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, and I don’t want to hurt you or say things like that to you ever again. But right now, I think we hurt ourselves more than we hurt each other.” He leans down and you share a kiss, three actually, each one lingering, an apology, forgiveness given and declaration of love from both of you to the other. “We’re going to figure it out, okay? I promise.”

Jack’s promise is how the two of you found yourselves here. Couples therapy. 

It wasn’t one person’s suggestion. After the argument the two of you had been talking in bed, trying to work some of what you each said out. You both talked about your own therapy and it just kind of dawned on you both at the same time and you both agreed, easily, even laughing together when you said it at nearly the same time. 

You stand outside the office with Jack. You hate the term, feel like it implies something. But nothing is wrong between the two of you. Just the opposite. After your argument you both knew you needed guidance on navigating your guilt and healing as a couple, not just as individuals. Both of your therapists had recommended the same couples therapist when asked, one who specializes in helping couples who have gone through an acute traumatic experience together.  

Nothing changed after the argument. You were both clingy the rest of that day and for a few days after. If anything in some ways it made you guys feel stronger as a couple. But at the same time neither of you ever want it to happen again. 

So here you are. You know it won’t make you as individuals or partners or your relationship perfect because that’s impossible. And you both know you’ll hurt each other again as you heal from this and move through life together because you’re human. Neither of you expect perfection.

Jack squeezes your hand as you stand there. You squeeze back, hard as you let out a big breath.

“Preventive medicine,” Jack reminds you. You’d admitted to him one day how much the term couples therapy freaked you out and how you knew it was stupid and nothing was wrong with you guys or between you guys but it still freaked you out. Jack had suggested calling it preventive medicine, asked if that might help. You weren’t sure you were sold but knew you’d pick apart any potential name for it and preventive medicine was better than couple’s therapy to you for some reason.

“Nothing is wrong?” Sometimes you just need reassurance from him. He’s always happy to give it. 

“Absolutely nothing. I’m not mad or upset with you. I’m not hurt. I don’t resent you. I love you. More than I did yesterday, less than I will tomorrow, whatever the fucking saying is. We’re okay. I promise. And if we’re ever not, if we ever even get remotely near being on the same planet as not being okay I will tell you.” Jack kisses your forehead. “This is a good thing. It’s smart. They tell people to do this before they get married even when one of them hasn’t just been shot and almost died.”

You smile at him, soft and a touch somber, but a smile nonetheless. “I know. And thank you. I’m sorry, I know I’ve been so insecure and worried lately and asking for so much reassurance.”

“I’ve been the same,” Jack reminds you. You hum and shake your head as if to question him. “I have been, at least a little bit. And you give me reassurance. You don’t mind. You say you’ll give it to me as much as I need it, never take it personally because you understand. The same is true for me. I will give you however much and whatever type of reassurance you need as much as you need whenever you need and I will never take it personally. I understand too. I’d rather you ask than live with worry that could be soothed by asking, yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You lean into Jack for a second and take in a deep breath. “Alright. I’m ready. I don’t know why I even had to stand here and become ready, but whatever.” Jack smiles to himself because he loves when you do that kind of self-commentary. “You ready?”

“I’m always ready for anything with you Doll.”

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

Jack is obviously the first of you to return to work. It’s not something either of you are looking forward to really. In a sense you both are because it checks off another box on the return to normalcy. But you’re not looking forward to being alone and Jack isn’t looking forward to leaving you.

The two of you talk and decide he’ll start with half shifts, give you both some time to adjust back into things. He had been working days but he thought maybe nights would be better until you were back to work, you’d be asleep when he was gone that way. You were fine with it and so that’s what he worked out with Robby. 

It’s strange sitting on the bed watching him pull on black scrubs that have been folded so long they’re a little creased. It’s been a long time since you last saw him in scrubs. It makes you smile because it reminds you of life before the shooting. And he still looks incredibly, incredibly fucking hot in them. 

“What?” He smirks as he looks at you after pulling his scrub top on over his undershirt. 

“I didn’t say anything!” You give him a look of mock offense. You really are doing your best to temper your anxiety about tonight. 

He narrows his eyes at you a little and walks to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t have to say it. I could just feel it.”

You lean your head forward onto his tummy and rest your forehead there for a moment before looking up at him. “That so?” He gives you another smirk and nods. “I’m not allowed to appreciate how good you look in scrubs anymore, Dr. Abbot?”

Jack steps back and takes your hands to pull you off the bed. “Of course you are. Doesn’t mean I won’t tease you about it.” He uses one hand to hold your face before leaning in and kissing you, hard, a little bit of tongue. Just because he can. He pulls back just far enough so you can see each other and gives you another smirked smile before kissing your forehead and releasing you. 

The two of you walk back into the front room together, and you sit on the couch and fidget with your fingers while Jack looks through his backpack to make sure he has everything he needs. You grab your phone, try to distract yourself with it so he doesn’t feel you staring at him the entire time. You don’t want to make this any harder for him. Both of you know the other is just as anxious. 

Jack glances down at his watch. He needs to leave. The urge to pull out his phone and call Robby to say he can’t make it in is immense. But he, and you, know that this day has to come eventually. He walks over and sits next to you on the couch. “You gonna be okay?” He grabs one of your hands in his to help ground you, get you to focus on him. 

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” You try to give him a brave smile but you’re not sure how well it lands. 

“I want you to call me or text me if you need anything, okay? I mean anything. If I have to leave early then I have to leave early.” His eyes flit around your face trying to make sure he’s reading every little bit of you. “And if for some reason I don’t answer the phone, call the hospital, yeah?”

“I know Peter,” you murmur, bring his hand up to your face and lean your cheek against the back of his hand. “I’ll be okay though. Really. It might be hard at first but I’ll probably just end up falling asleep and then you’ll slip into bed beside me before I even know it.”

“I really hope so, Doll.” Jack leans in and kisses your forehead, lingers for a moment before he pulls back and looks back down at you. His brows are creased, mouth just slightly pulled down, eyes a little wider than normal. He’s concerned, worried about you. You hate seeing him like this. You know part of it goes back to his nightmares about coming home and finding you dead.

“It’ll all be okay in the end. You’re coming home to me.” You manage to give him a real smile, as small as it is, and it visibly helps him relax. 

He’s able to return it. “Yes I am. Always.” He stands up and you follow, walk him over to the door. 

“Text me when you get there, yeah?”

“Course. And you text me during the night if you need, okay?” You nod at him, give him another little smile as he pulls his backpack over one shoulder. He pulls you close to him in a tight hug, kisses the top of your head before letting you pull back and kissing you. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you more,” you murmur before stealing another kiss. Normally he’d argue with you, but tonight he lets you have it. 

Jack opens the door and steps out and you close it behind him. You both know that if he turned and looked at you he probably wouldn’t end up going in. He waits to hear the deadlock before he takes a few steps away. He has to stop though and just breathe for a minute before finally setting off. 

You lock the deadbolt and then rest your forehead against the door, one palm flat on it. Tears hit your eyes and you feel so fucking ridiculous about it. Like some clingy, codependent fiancée who can’t stand to be away from her man for more than ten minutes. You try and remind yourself that this is okay, you’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling and you being upset isn’t because you’re clingy or codependent. It’s because you went through a major trauma and are healing and it’s your first time truly being on your own since you were shot. You know this won’t last, that it won’t always be like this, but in this moment it feels like it will and it overwhelms you.

Your hand itches to undo the deadbolt and dart out after him, beg him not to leave you. But you can’t do that. This is something that has to happen. So you pull yourself from the door and head back to the couch for a second before getting back up to go do the dishes from dinner. You thought it might be a good distraction. Instead it just reminds you that he’s not here doing them with you. 

Your phone dings as you finish loading the dishwasher and washing the pan that can’t go in it. It’s Jack letting you know he got to work. He keeps typing, and you chew on your lip as you wait to see what he’s going to say. 

J - I just want to let you know that it’s slammed here tonight so I’ll probably be busy and not around a ton. But I’ll check my phone often even if I can’t always reply. So text me if you need to, or call me or the ED. I love you. 

Your heart falls at his words and some part of you feels selfish for it. It’s good. It’s good for him to be there and be busy and have that distraction and get back to normal. It just sucks you won’t have him to talk to much. You had tried to prepare yourself for this, tried to operate under the assumption that he wouldn’t be around much but a part of you, apparently a big part, still held onto the hope he would. 

There’s also the unspoken meaning of the Pitt being slammed. The chances he’ll get off on time are probably slim to none unless some miracle happens. You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You’re going to be asleep anyway. But will you really?

Jack is anxious to get a text back from you, glancing at his phone nonstop while Robby goes over the board with him. This was exactly what he did not want to happen. He didn’t want it to be slammed. Busy, fine. He appreciates the distraction it brings. He’d still be able to respond to you more even if not as frequently as he’d like. And slammed means the chances of him getting off in six hours are a fraction above non-existent. He knows you know that too. 

He also knows that he’s the lucky one out of the two of you. He can’t afford to be distracted here. So he has to do some kind of compartmentalization. It doesn’t mean he won’t miss or worry about you constantly. He will. He just has to force himself to stay present where he’s at. His inability to be distracted here is itself a distraction from his anxiety and missing you. 

It feels selfish. He knows that you don’t have the same luxury at home, if anything it’s the opposite. You have to try and find things to distract yourself so that you don’t end up getting too into your head. He knows that sometimes you struggle to come up with ways to do that, or that you think of ways but can’t convince yourself to do them. He gets it. He’s been there himself. And up until now he’d been there to distract you when you couldn’t do it for yourself. But now he’s not. 

So he’s anxious as he waits for a response. He knows you’re just staring at your phone trying to think of what to say. He’s trying not to think about the likelihood of teardrops hitting the screen of your phone and magnifying whatever they fall on. He’s trying not to think about what you look like when you cry like that, completely silent with the tears slipping down your face. 

You’re looking down at your phone enough that the first tear to roll off your face hits the screen. You shake your head at yourself. You need to get a grip. It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Jack will be fine. 

You - I’m glad you made it there safely. Thanks for letting me know, I hope the night isn’t awful. Let me know when you’re on your way home. I love you

Jack feels better for about half a second when your name finally flashes on his screen. But then he reads your message. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back for a second before looking back down at his phone. He can feel your dejection through the phone. For his part Robby gives Jack space, doesn’t comment on it, intercepts a couple of people who want to welcome Jack back. It takes Jack a moment to decide on what to reply. He knows that it doesn’t matter what his reply is, it’s not going to make anything better. 

J - Of course. Don’t forget you have a couple new books on the kitchen table and all of wedding pinterest and the knot to explore. I love you more

His message does manage to pull a little laugh from you. He’s so sweet, your Jack. Reminding you of things you could do to keep yourself occupied and distracted. You look around the kitchen and take in a deep breath, try to hype yourself up. 

It’s going to be okay. You’re going to do this and be fine and Jack will be so proud of you. You can do this. You grab your laptop and settle on the couch, put a show you like on and start looking through pinterest like Jack said. It goes well at first. Until you see something you really like and go to turn your computer and look over at Jack to show him. The realization hits you then that you’ve only ever done this with him. 

Fine. That’s okay. You have books. You turn the TV off and go look through the stack, pick one out and curl back up on the couch. Reading also goes well at first until it finally hits you that you’ve been staring at the same page for quite a while now because it’s hard to see through your tears. You set the book down and feel so defeated. You want to be okay so badly, for Jack and for yourself. But it seems the more you try to be the more you aren’t. 

You check your phone. 7:47. Nothing from Jack, not that you expected anything, especially since effectively no time has passed since his last message. You don’t know why you can’t do this, why it’s so hard. And that just makes you more upset. 

You get up once you start sniffling from the tears and just take yourself to bed, curl up in a ball on it with a box of tissues and let yourself cry. You grab your phone several times, have to fight the urge to call him and plead for him to come home. You have to fight the urge to get up and grab an uber and show up at the ED. The only good thing about crying is that it’s exhausting, and the swelling of your eyes makes you feel even more tired. And so you slip under without even realizing it. 

When Jack finally gets a second to check in and look at his phone sometime around 10:00 he’s a little surprised to see nothing from you. It’s unlike you. Normally you’ll text him often throughout your day, even if he can’t reply. Just little things. What you’re doing. Something funny that happened or that you saw. A photo of something that made you think of him. A moment on a show he doesn’t watch but that you want him to see. But then he realizes the problem with his thinking. Normally. 

Normal at this point is synonymous with ‘before you were shot.’ Because nothing has been remotely normal since then. It’s all been temporary. The hospital was temporary. Him being at home with you was temporary. Even his half shifts are temporary. And you both want normal back. But it’s not. And even when it is you both know it’ll be different, and that’s okay. A new normal is okay. But you’re not there yet and so, Jack realizes, thinking about what you’d normally do is futile and deceptive. He is surprised he hasn’t gotten anything wedding related though. He thought you’d take him up on that suggestion, go on pinterest, send him things you find and like. 

J - Finally have a second. You doing okay?

Before he can even start to wait for your reply Parker is grabbing him for help with a patient and his phone is back in his pocket. He tells himself he’s just been moving a lot and so that’s why he hasn’t felt his phone vibrate with your message. But when he pulls his phone out at 12:23 and there’s nothing from you he can’t help the pit of dread that starts to form in his stomach. 

Flashbacks of nightmares play in his head. You dead on the kitchen floor. You dead in your bed. You dead on the couch. He stops himself. You must be asleep. You just fell asleep early. Hell, maybe you took some sleeping meds just to make it easier for yourself and were asleep before his last text. That has to be it. Even though he’s sure you won’t see it, because you’re sleeping, he sends another one with the news you both saw coming. 

J - Hope you’re sleeping well. I’m going to be stuck here past 1. I’m hoping for 3/3:30, at most 4. I promise as soon as I can get out I will. I’m sorry. Love you

You wake with a start, covered in cold sweat, heart racing, chest heaving. It takes you a minute to fully come to. You had a nightmare. You were back in that courtroom with gunshots deafening you as you tried to hide. And then that body collapsed in front of you just like it did that day but this time you do recognize the person when their face rolls towards you as they bleed out, eyes fluttering closed. 

Jack.

You think you woke up before you even got shot, though you’re not sure. You’ve never been able to remember exactly when it happened. All you know is you saw Jack’s face and Jack’s blood and then mercifully woke the fuck up. You take a second to try and come down, look over at your phone and see it’s just after 2:00 and Jack’s messages. Your heart is crushed a little by the disappointment of him being home late even though you expected it. If he had gotten off on time he’d have been here, might have woken you getting into bed, might have stopped you from having that nightmare and that image of him seared in your brain. You know it’s not fair to put that on him and you aren’t, you don’t blame him. You just can’t help but think it. 

It’s what makes you burst into tears, again. Your disgust at yourself for even coming close to thinking about blaming him. And then you’re crying about all of it. Tears of anger at yourself, tears of frustration with yourself, tears of despondency about getting better, tears of panic from seeing Jack in your nightmare, tears of sorrow that he’s not home, tears of disappointment with yourself that you couldn’t do this one night, tears of confliction about being alive. You wear yourself out again. 

But this time you don’t go back to sleep. Instead you get up and take a shower to rid yourself of the sticky cold sweat that covers you. You hold some ice to your face once you’re out, hope it’ll help with the swelling of your eyes and lips enough that Jack won’t notice, especially in the dark. You toss the copious tear soaked tissues in the bathroom garbage and put the tissue box back where it was so that Jack won't see anything amiss and crawl back into bed. The exhaustion of crying pulls you under again. 

Jack’s out at 3:13. He hates it. He’s still on edge because still nothing from you even though he didn’t expect anything. He lets you know he's on his way home anyway. He cannot be home and have eyes on you soon enough. The drive is at least short at this time of night. There’s no lights on when he opens the door. Part of him is relieved because that would make sense if you were sleeping. But part of him is just put more on edge by the darkness. He doesn’t let himself think about it much, drops his backpack and gets his shoes off quickly and then is heading for your room. 

As much as he wants to, he doesn’t turn the overhead light on. He can make out your form on the bed so he steps over to the bathroom and reaches in to flick the light on, leaves the door open to give him just enough light in the bedroom to look at you. Normally the sight would turn him on, immensely. It still does, he can feel it. But tonight that’s overshadowed by the way it breaks his heart because he knows what it means. 

You’re curled up on his side of the bed, head on his pillow, wearing one of his shirts and holding another close to you, clutching it to your chest really. He lets out a slow breath through his nose as he takes you in. His brows furrow a little. He’s not sure if it’s the lighting or if your eyes and lips are really a little swollen. He makes himself let go of the thought for the moment so that he can grab a pair of pajama pants and just get in bed with you. 

When he walks in the bathroom properly it hits him. It’s a bit warmer than your bedroom, a bit more humid. And the smell. It smells like he just showered. Which means you showered recently and used all of his products so that you’d smell like him. It’s so sweet but it hurts, that he wasn’t here when you so clearly needed him. He tries to set that aside and not feel guilty, think about and apply what you guys have learned in couple’s therapy but it’s hard. And it gets harder when the pile of white catches his eye and he sees all of the tissues in the trash can. It wasn’t the lighting. The swelling is real. You cried. A lot. 

You’re not sure what wakes you but when you force your eyes open you realize the bathroom light is on which means Jack is home. It’s the first time you’ve smiled since he left. “Peter?” you call softly as you get out of bed to walk to the bathroom. Jack’s out of his scrubs in just his pajama bottoms.

“Hey, I’m sorry Doll, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You shake your head at him, meeting him at the doorway to the bathroom. 

“I’m just glad you’re home.” You push your lips out for a kiss he happily gives you. “Missed you. Were you okay?” 

“I was yeah. Being slammed was good at keeping me distracted." He frowns for a second because he knows how not the case that was for you. He leans in for another kiss. "I missed you more,” he murmurs against your lips, hands finding your waist. 

You hum back against his lips as he kisses you again. “I’m going to let you have that only because I was passed out most of the night.” 

Jack nods at you. But you can tell from the speed of it that he knows. You just give him a little shrug to tell him you know he knows. 

“Why didn’t you call?” It’s soft. He’s not angry at you or upset with you in any way. Just curious. You look away from his eyes down at his bare chest and give another little shrug. “Did you need me?”

“I was okay… eventually,” you admit. One of his hands finds your chin, gently pushes it up to see if you’ll move your head up to look at him. You don’t resist so he tilts your chin up. 

Jack gives you a small smile and keeps his voice low and gentle and he hopes comforting. “That doesn’t answer my question.” The hand still on your waist gives it a small squeeze. “You can be okay and still need me, or trying to convince yourself you’re okay and still need me, or trying to be okay and still need me.” He raises his eyebrows a little at you. 

You look at him for a beat and then let out a big sigh, lean forward and into him a bit so that your forehead rests against his chest. “I hate it when you do that,” you grumble against him. 

“What’s that?” He leans down and kisses the top of your head. 

You move your forehead off his chest but plant a kiss there before looking back up at him. “See right through me,” you murmur through a watery smile. “I don’t know how you’re so damn good at it.”

“Well,” Jack nods slowly, “in your fourth year of med school they pull a couple of students aside, obviously the ones they think are the best since I was one of them, and they teach us x-ray vision.” 

You let out a huffed laugh but smile at him. “I really thought I was about to learn something about med school.”  

“Are you saying you don’t believe me?!” He gives you his best surprised face. 

You roll your eyes at him and laugh a little with him but it quickly turns into trembling lips and you shaking your head. 

“Okay baby, come here,” Jack whispers, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, one hand finding the back of your head and holding your face against his chest. 

“It was so bad Jack, it was so bad,” you choke out through a strangled sob. “And I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to cry into you tonight or this morning or whatever the fuck it is. I just want to get in bed and be with you.” You sniffle and try to pull yourself together. 

“I know.” He rocks you just a little, presses his lips to the top of your head and lets them linger. “But we can be in bed together and you can be crying if that’s what you need.” As he speaks he flicks the light off and settles one hand on your hip and slowly begins walking you backwards toward the bed. 

“I’m tired of it being what I need,” you mumble. At least you’ve managed to stop the tears. You turn once your knees hit the back of the bed so that you can slide in, Jack following you once he has his prosthetic off. “I just…I had a nightmare.”

Jack cringes as he settles and holds his arms open for you. “I’m so sorry.” He knows all too well how much they can rattle you and fuck you up for days. How long it can take to get them to a point of only happening a few times a year. How much therapy and EMDR he’s had to do to help with his over the years. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sigh as you curl into his side and drape your top leg over his, rest your head against the crook of his shoulder. The hand of Jack’s arm that’s now behind you starts rubbing your back up and down. “I was back there. In that courtroom on that day. And it was all the same and as much as that sucked it was fine. But then I got to the part where that woman collapsed in front of me and died but,” you have to pause and try and get yourself closer to Jack. “But it wasn’t her. It was you.” Jack’s shifting onto his side a bit more at that and pulling you closer into him, pressing the front of his body against yours. He positions you so that you can rest your ear up against his chest. “And unlike her you rolled your head to look at me as you were bleeding out and then I woke up.” 

You hear the click of Jack’s jaw as he opens it to say something. But it never comes, instead you just feel his head shake a little. You let yourself focus on the beat of his heart underneath your ear, the warmth of his skin. “I’m so sorry,” he finally whispers. “I know it’s not my fault but I am so sorry that you had to experience that Doll.”

You shrug a little. Apparently you’re all out of tears for the night. You’re too tired for them. And here in Jack’s arms with his heart beating under your ear it’s not so scary. There’s an odd sense of calm that fills both of you. You feel kind of bad, like you've taken this for yourself, haven't talked about how he did at work. But you know there's time. “Don’t be,” you whisper, turn your face a bit to nuzzle into his chest. “At least I didn’t have to live through your funeral. I’ve got that goin’ for me. More than you can say.”

He can feel your lips turn up in a smile against his chest. And he has to let out a laugh at it too. Because you’ve hit a point where you can start to make small jokes about what’s happened, what you’ve both been through. Because it’s all so miserable and horrific that if you guys don’t laugh you’ll cry. After a second you pull your head from his chest and look up at him. He looks so amused with his wide closed lip smile, shaking his head at you slightly that you have to bite your lip to stop from laughing. But that makes him crack and start properly laughing and so you do too. 

You guys laugh until it hurts, until the smallest tears slide out the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry, that was probably so insensitive of me-”

“No,” Jack keeps laughing, “no. No, Doll that was so fucking needed, fuck me. The laughing feels just as cathartic as crying right now.”

“I agree,” you giggle as you both start to wind down. You lean in to kiss him and Jack keeps you there, nipping at your bottom lip and tugging at it a little when you try to pull away. “Needy,” you murmur teasingly.

“For you? Always.” You lay there and kiss. Kiss and make out in bed pressed against each other simply because you want to feel close and because you can. It’s not leading anywhere as good as it feels and as wired as it makes both of you. You can feel him growing hard against you and yourself growing wetter for him but you’re both content to stay like you are. 

Eventually the kisses slow. You’re both sleepy, and between snuggling with each other and all the kissing it’s quick to catch up with you. Just as you both start to nod off you think of something. “Hey Jack? Maybe no more night shifts.” It’s all sleep slurred and in that drowsy tone you get that he finds particularly adorable.

He laughs a little through his nose. “No more night shifts,” he agrees, just as groggy.

When you wake up the next day Jack is able to get in touch with Robby and switch things back so that he’s on days again. Something about the daylight makes it a little easier for you, and you don’t seem to have any nightmares when you sleep snuggled into Jack. The next time he goes to work for half a day shift sucks still, but significantly less than that first half a night shift. Each time it gets a little bit easier, even when Jack is finally back to regular twelve hour shifts. 

And then eventually it’s your turn to go back to work. It’s not just going back to work, it’s going back to the place you were shot. Both of you are on edge. Jack hates the thought of you having to go back there, it sends his anxiety through the roof even though he knows logically it’s probably the safest courthouse in the entire country right now with all the heightened security. 

“You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Jack asks you for probably the tenth time this morning alone. 

“I’m sure,” you call to him from the bathroom as you finish getting ready. Jack appears in the mirror behind you, stopping at the doorway of the bathroom. You look at him in the mirror. “It’s okay, I’m ready. I can do this.” 

You sound more like you’re trying to convince yourself than you are Jack. “You can call me. If you need anything.” 

“I know,” you nod, “I promise I know and that if I need you I’ll call.” You turn to look at Jack and start walking towards him. Half of you feels ready for this, is craving the normalcy that being at work will bring. The other half knows you’re probably not quite ready. You haven’t even been by the building to expose yourself to it.

You pick at the breakfast Jack made you, stomach churning too much to feel hungry and making it hard to swallow anything down. He doesn’t comment on it as he sits at the table across from you working on today’s crossword, isn’t going to pressure you into eating more or potentially make you feel bad by calling you out on it. He gets it. He didn’t eat much dinner the night he went back to work for that one half a night shift. 

It’s going to put your shoes on where you really start to let yourself realize how not ready you are for this. You stare down at them for what feels like ten or so seconds but is in reality close to a full minute. Jack knows because he glances at his watch after the first few seconds pass and you don’t move to put them on. 

Finally you force yourself to and grab your bag. You take in and let out a deep breath and ignore how shaky it is as Jack walks over to you. He doesn’t want to smother you in reassurance and reminders you can call him or end up letting an ask for you to stay home slip out. “Have a good day Doll. Call if you need and I’ll be here waiting for you when you get home. I love you.” 

Jack leans down and kisses you, one that lingers followed by a bunch of softer pecks. “I will,” you nod. “I’ll see you tonight.” You put your hand on the door handle and open it a little. “I love you more,” you smile up at him. He lets you have it this morning. 

As you walk out the door and close it you know immediately you’re not ready. Jack knows you aren’t ready. But you try anyway and he doesn’t try to stop you because this is something you need to do for yourself. 

It doesn’t take too long to get there, the commute is generally fairly easy even though it’s busy. You walk up to the courtyard of the courthouse and stare at the entrance. It feels like you can’t breathe and you’re aware of how badly your hands shake. Your heart races as you try and tell yourself you just need a minute and then you’ll go in. 

But everything just gets worse. All you can hear is screaming and gunshots, taste that metallic flavor of adrenaline, and smell sulphur and smoke. You can’t do this. You so cannot fucking do this.

You get yourself back enough so a trembling hand can get your phone out of your bag, unlock it and hit Jack’s name. He answers on the first ring. “I’m not ready Jack, I can’t do this, I, I, I’m stuck outside and I need you, please come, I’m sor-”

“Doll,” Jack interrupts you. “Turn around.”

You do and standing at the edge of the courtyard is Jack. 

He hangs up his phone as he starts moving to you, shoving past a couple people with a distracted excuse me because he just needs to get to you. He knows that you don’t want to fully lose it here, not with the potential for people you know or work with every day to see. And Jack doesn’t want it for you either. He knows you hate crying in front of people, that it took a while for you to be able to cry in front of him. 

“I’m here,” he’s saying as he gets to you, arms reaching out before he’s even all the way there to start pulling you into him. “I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Your hands slide around his waist and clutch at the back of his shirt as you close your eyes and press the side of your head to his chest. 

You breathe him in, smell your laundry detergent and his body wash and him. You focus and let his heart beating become the only thing you can hear. The metallic taste in your mouth starts to fade.

“Ready to walk?” Jack whispers as he feels you start to calm down. You nod against him and so he lets go of you. A hand finds your lower back and starts directing you over to a bench outside of the courtyard facing away from the courthouse.

You both sit and he pulls you as close as possible, wraps the arm closest to you around your waist to keep you close as you rest a hand on his knee. Jack brings his other hand across his body and rests it on top of your hand, laces your fingers together from above. 

Jack doesn’t pressure you, doesn’t ask you for details or if you want to talk or what exactly happened. He just sits there with you holding you close. You tilt your head and let it fall onto his shoulder. He tilts his head and his lips press against you where they can reach before he lets his head rest on yours lightly. 

“I feel so ridiculous,” you murmur after a while. 

Jack squeezes your hand. “Why?”

“I knew the entire morning I wasn’t ready. I just wanted to be so bad so I didn’t listen to myself.” 

“I know. I knew,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t make you ridiculous. Just human.”

“You knew?” you whisper, pull away to look at him. “How?”

“You told me as much with your eyes and the way you hesitated before you did anything related to getting ready this morning.” He squeezes your hand. “Before picking up your hairbrush and putting your bra on and picking up your mascara, that type of stuff. Your hand hesitated for just a second or two before you grabbed whatever it was. And then when it took you as long as it did to get your shoes on I just had an intuition or gut feeling or whatever you want to call it that I should be here.” 

“You didn’t try to stop me?” 

“No,” he shakes his head and gives you a small smile. “It was obvious that you needed to do this. Come here. Try. Get yourself back in front of this building. You needed to do it for yourself and I wasn’t going to interfere with that, no matter how badly I wanted to stop you so you wouldn’t hurt. You needed to do this. My role is to support you and help you with your healing. Not to dictate how you do it.”

You take in and hold a long breath before letting it out through your nose and shaking your head a little. “You’re way too fucking good for me.”

Jack gives you a look. “Not even gracing that bullshit with a reply,” he parrots the phrase you love to use back at you.

You give him a little eye roll and a smile. “I just should be better, Jack. I should be able to go back and get back to normal. But then I got here and it’s like it was yesterday.”

He nods slowly. “I think it was yesterday in a sense, Doll. This is your first time even being in front of the courthouse since it happened. That’s one. Two,” he pauses to take a breath and look down and away from you for a second. “A very, very smart woman,” he looks back up at you with a small smile, “once told me that should is a stupid word. Nothing should or shouldn’t be. Things just are. And it’s okay for them to be as they are. It’s okay for this to be as it is.” 

You’re quiet for a few seconds before you let out a huffed laugh through your nose. “I can’t believe you just used my own words against me twice in a row.” 

Jack clicks his tongue and shrugs. “I can be a real dick sometimes can’t I?”

You roll your eyes at him again and lean back into him. “Maybe. But you’re my dick, so it’s okay, I’ll allow it.” 

That makes him roll his eyes at you and chuckle. “Yeah, I’m your dick, alright. I’m glad to hear you’ll allow it,” he teases. 

“I’m actually quite impressed that you remember that entire little speech I gave you,” you admit after a few minutes. 

“Repeated it to myself a lot. Still do. Well, really in my head you’re saying it to me and I hear it in your voice. So I guess I have you repeating it to me a lot.” He pauses. “It’s important to remember.”

“I suppose it is.” You pull away again to look up at him. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Always, Doll.” The kiss he gives you is quick yet ardent. “I love you too.” 

There’s a lull as the two of you just sit on the bench and exist together, soak in the sun.

“You wanna go to bath and body works?” Jack breaks the silence. An amused smirk pulls on your face as you pull away to look up at him. “Candles are on sale. $12.95. And they just released a bunch of new scents.” 

You know he’s offering and that he keeps tabs on when they’re on sale and when new scents come out because he knows how much you enjoy candles and the fun of smelling them. You bite your lip and look up at him all dreamy. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head and stands up, offers you his hand and helps you off the bench so you can head to the store. “Just in love.”

You take a bit more time for yourself before you try going back again, go and sit outside the courthouse with Jack and alone. And the next time you go back to work Jack goes with you, holds your hand all the way up to the employee entrance. He gives you a kiss goodbye and holds the door open for you, watches you for a second before he lets the door close. He waits outside on a bench for a bit, just in case you decide you’re not ready again and need him. But you don’t. And so Jack smiles to himself as he gets up and heads back home. 

Normal. Things are finally starting to get back to normal.

But, as it turns out, normalcy is a fragile thing. And so things are finally starting to get back to normal.

Until they aren’t.

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

Thank you so so much for reading, I hope it was okay!

Part 4 is out now!

Part 4 will be out soon!! This weekend for sure! And then we're straight into Quiet 2 which I am so fucking excited for! I have many many plans! How many exclamation points can I use in a row!!!!!

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[cacoetheswriting]

girl you have that really angsty Eddie fic where he gets hooked on things he shouldn't and it ruins his relationship with reader - please please please write some more Eddie angst, BEGGING

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader [modern day au] word count: 5k

summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only it’s not really as it’s been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.

content warnings: heavily unedited (sorry): angsty angst, mature themes & adult language, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, anxiety / panic attacks, emotional hurt / no comfort, unrequited (sorta) love, some mutual pining, love triangle?, eddie is a bit of an asshole, also touches on topics of: divorce, death, grief — pls let me know if i missed any!

AUTHOR UPDATE: SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Parking your car at the desired destination, you glance out the half-opened window and note how the weather is far from ideal for the planned activities. 

It’s cold. Cold enough to make anyone's atoms shiver. Dark grey clouds cover every inch of the sky above, hiding the beautiful autumn sun. The air is brisk. It’s harsh against your skin as you eventually get out of the red Jeep and the unwelcoming breeze that follows makes you wish that you had packed warmer clothes for this weekend.

Jesus, you think, as if this trip wasn’t going to be hard enough.

When your feet hit the gravel below, you exhale, wondering whether it’s too late to change your mind about agreeing to come. Since the weather was seemingly against you, what’s to say the universe wasn’t going to continue ruining this weekend? But before you get a chance to decide what your next move is going to be, the door of the lake house swings open and Nancy runs out, arms spread wide as she squeals with excitement.

“I can’t believe you actually came!”

The hug she gives you is strong, almost full force. It takes you a second to register that one second she was running out of the house, and the next, her arms are wrapped tightly around you as if no time has passed between now and when you last saw her. Therefore, it takes you a second to hug her back, but when you do, a small smile circles your lips. Familiarity. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.

“Of course I came,” you say as she draws back, “You know me, Nance, always down for a good time.”

Nancy laughs. “Oh, I remember.”

Then her smile falters just as fast as it appears and you know exactly which memory crosses her mind because your own thoughts wander back to that moment too, along with the people involved.

“Sorry, my joke was in poor taste. If you can even call that a joke.” You admit with a lighthearted huff.

“No, no.” Nancy shakes her head, but even with the years that have passed since you last saw each other in person, you know the look in her eye is one of concern.

You think to try and ease at least some of her worry since she did go through all the trouble to organise this weekend for your high school group to get together and the last thing you’d want is for her to second-guess ever inviting you.

“I- uh… I actually don’t really drink anymore.”

Her facial expression shifts to one of surprise, though she doesn’t say anything which would demonstrate that. Instead, she smiles again.

“Good for you,” the tone of her voice conveys pride and you’re grateful.

“Thanks, Nance.”

One day you’ll tell her about the road that led you to sobriety, but today’s not that day.

Today is about reintroducing yourself to the friends that have helped you get through four hellish years that were called ‘high school’. The people that were there for you through the good and the ugly; which got real fucking ugly sometimes. The group that most often than not was your literal lifeline. 

Nancy, your best friend. Robin, your sidekick. Jonathan, your unlicensed therapist. Steve, your partner in crime. And Eddie…

You haven’t seen any of them since graduation.

Three years of virtually no contact.

Sure, it made you wonder why you were even invited to this weekend getaway in the first place, but Nancy was always like a sister so you knew her motives were definitely not malicious.

“Let me help you with your bags,” the brunette girl offers and before you get a chance to decline, say you’ve got them on your own since you really didn’t bring much with you, she’s at the boot of your car.

While Nancy fills you in on the plans she’s made for everyone, the various activities she’s organised for the days ahead, the two of you gather your belongings before making your way towards the big house. 

Apparently everyone is already here.

Nancy, Jonathan, and someone called Argyle (a new addition to the group, undoubtedly a breath of fresh air following your departure), got here last night. Steve, Robin, and Eddie arrived this morning.

“But the boys went to the shop to get all the groceries we need for this weekend, so right now it’s just me and Robin.” Nancy explains, fingers wrapping around the door handle. It’s her way of saying not to be nervous, he wasn’t here right now, and with that your shoulders relax in relief.

The inside of the house is even more impressive than its exterior. High ceilings, all wooden floors, and decor that undoubtedly cost more than anything you own or could actually afford. In the living area, there’s paintings on the walls that depict the home during construction, then in its full glory, as it stands now. Various knick-knacks fill the shelving, and the bookcase at the back of the room is filled top to bottom with stories you’ve never even heard of.

You allow yourself to continue into the kitchen, which looks like a piece out of Architectural Digest. Modern touches to the original design, upgraded appliances that look like they’ve never been used. There’s a large dining table in the back of the space, already set for dinner. The windows behind it offer a perfect view of the lake and as you look at the water; peace. For a split-second, you let yourself really think that coming wasn’t a bad idea after all.

“Jesus, Nance, how the hell did you find this place?” You ask in awe once the girl stands beside you.

“Argyle has this aunt who’s an avid Airbnb user. Honestly, when he first showed me the pictures, I thought he was out of it, like he usually is, but here we are...”

You don’t get to tell her how beautiful you think it is ‘cause there’s a high-pitch screech that startles you, and within seconds, someone’s arms wrap around your frame, swaying you from side to side.

“When Wheeler told me you agreed to come, I swear I thought she was bluffing!”

Robin drops her arms, allowing you to turn in your spot and face her. The grin on her face is wide, complimenting her new haircut, which is about the only thing that’s changed in her physical appearance over the last three years.

She playfully smacks your arm. You do the same to her. It’s reminiscent of a handshake, an acknowledgment that despite the years of only sending and receiving generic birthday texts, you guys were still as close as ever.

“Long time no see, Buckley. Loving the new look.” You point to her long bleached locks.

“Yeah? I was going for that badass lesbian vibe. What Daenerys should’ve been.”

You chuckle. “Well, I’d say mission accomplished.”

“Thanks,” Robin smirks then takes the duffle out of your grasp and turns to Nancy, asking to lead the way to the room that’s been assigned to you.

Up the stairs and down the long hallway, the girls point to the shared bathroom, but Nancy says your room actually has an en-suite. Then she outlines which door leads to whose bedroom — Eddie’s is first up the stairs and you wonder whose choice it was to deliberately keep you two away — before stopping at the last door and pushing it open to reveal your safe space for this weekend.

First thought that crosses your mind is how this one bedroom is bigger than your entire apartment. The bed alone would probably not fit in your current home. Second thought is how you have the same view as in the kitchen, only higher up, and you thank Nancy for assigning you this room for that reason alone.

“It’s no big deal,” she replies with a shrug, “You had the longest trip out here, only fair you get the best room, so you can properly rewind.” 

“As the organiser, you should have the nicest room,” you counter, but Nance just waves her hand, dismissing what was going to be an offer to swap.

She proceeds to place the bag she was holding at the foot of the bed.

“Get settled in and we’ll start on food once the guys return.”

“You should have enough time to shower, if you want,” Robin chimes in, also dropping the duffel she carried up for you, “Knowing the four of them, they’re still trying to locate the gluten free sticker on the pasta Nance asked for.”

“Rob,” Nancy snorts.

The blonde shrugs. “You know it’s true! Those idiots can’t fucking read.”

They leave you shortly after, telling you to take your time to clean up and change into something more comfortable. 

When the door shuts with a soft thud, you exhale a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. It’s all okay, it’s all okay, it’s all okay, you repeat to yourself silently, and although you feel a little calmer than when you first arrived, there is still tension in your neck. There’s only one reason for that. One that isn’t here right now, but is bound to arrive at any point in the next hour.

‘arrived safe & sound. still feeling a little nauseous about this whole thing, but I’m taking your advice.. keep positive.’ - The text to your mom sends with a whooshing sound as you throw your phone on the large bed.

You glance around the room again, taking in the decor as a distraction to the anxiety bubbling in your chest. The furnishings are similar to the rest of the house, classy with a modern twist. Peaceful colours that perfectly compliment the wooden fixtures, and the birds chirping melodically outside the open window only add to the serenity. It’s really one of the nicest places you’ve ever stayed in and you take a mental note to send Nancy a bouquet of flowers when you get home, as a thank you.

When you step under the shower, you’re even more grateful. 

Back in your own apartment, you’re not guaranteed warm water, having to often make a choice between rinsing off the hectic day or cleaning the dishes so there’s something to eat off. It’s the life you chose, so you really can’t complain, but standing here in silence as the hot droplets wash over your skin, you think maybe you chose wrong. Then you think how fucking selfish that is of you since there’s a clear list of reasons why, aside from the comfort of a scolding shower, the choices you made three years ago where far from good.

Leaving without saying goodbye to everyone, for one. No explanations, no notes.

Only Nancy knew of your plan. After all, she was the one that talked you into leaving. 

The final nail in the coffin — so to speak — was her opinion on the literal shitshow that the final months of your high school career had become. And when she sat you down, the afternoon before graduation, she made it clear how she was worried about you and perhaps it was for the best to get away from Hawkins. Leave everything and everyone behind, allowing yourself time to heal and get your head straight.

You had only planned to be gone that one summer. But things never go to plan, especially for you.

Three months turned into four, then six, and before you knew it, a year had passed since your departure. Some of the group had tried to reach out at various points during that time, but you didn’t engage — only replied to Nancy the odd time, and texted Robin the mentioned before birthday wishes. 

The one person you really wished checked in on you, was the only person that didn’t. Not like you could blame him. You broke his fucking heart.

It wasn’t entirely a secret that Eddie Munson had a big fat crush on you.

He wouldn’t call it love at first sight, but it was pretty damn close — as you later found out from Robin. Later. Too late. She then went on to say, when the rocker first laid eyes on you, standing at Nancy’s locker and laughing at something she’d said moments prior, Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. Then two. The metalhead thought you were perhaps the most gorgeous girl to ever walk down the halls of Hawkins High, although he never said it out loud. 

(Not to you anyway.)

Things changed however, when you started dating Billy Hargrove. 

That boy was a bad influence for sure, even more than Eddie’s wild antics, but at that point in your life, you saw the world through rose-coloured glasses and turned a blind eye to Billy’s shitty behaviour.

Your first drink was provided to you by the scruffy blonde.

The first time you blacked out was after his funeral.

Earth shattering, his sudden death. Having lost the first love you’ve ever had, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You didn’t know how to cope. By the time your senior year came around, and Eddie’s third attempt at graduation, your life only continued to spiral out of control.

Your parents announced their divorce. It was apparently no one’s fault — irreconcilable differences — but their break up meant the house you’d grown up in was being put up for sale and you suddenly had to choose who you wanted to live with. 

Being an only child never brought with it any pressures, until now. Your father was moving cross country. Relocating with his job, who no longer needed him at their Indianapolis location, preferred he run the new branch in Las Vegas. Your mother was also venturing outside Hawkins, just not as far. She apparently found this cute place in Fort Wayne and was already in talks with a local school there for a part-time teaching position.

The Wheelers took you in following a conversation between Karen and your mom about how you shouldn’t be finishing your high school education someplace new, so this solved one problem.

But being away from your support system unfortunately made you feel increasingly isolated. Your parents had this “open door” policy that you didn’t realise you needed until it was no longer readily available. Phone calls and texts just weren’t the same.

This time in your life proved how difficult it was to pretend you were genuinely happy.

Eddie was the first to notice the subtle change in your attitude. He’d often ask what was bothering you, but you’d always tell him nothing, so he eventually learned to stop and simply tried to distract you with his usual antics.

You hated him for it. You hated how he just knew how you were feeling. How he could sense those deep and inner thoughts you were trying to hide. And you hated now he would try to make you feel better when all you really wanted was for the sad feelings to swallow you whole.

Without proper supervision, your after school activities also shifted into ones that would fill the emptiness you were constantly feeling. You were always quite outgoing, always the first one to say yes when someone mentioned a party, but the months between December and April unlocked a new version of you. One not many people in your friend group were particularly a fan of, though all too afraid of saying something.

It all came crashing down the night of Chrissy Cunningham’s farewell party. A few days before graduation, she invited the entire senior year to her parents’ lavish home for a get together that her dickhead boyfriend called: Project X 2.0. 

You asked Steve to come with you — much to Eddie’s dismay.

In the end, Carver got his wish. The party was indeed memorable for all the wrong reasons and the endless list of mistakes you made that night, in your inebriated state, was precisely why you left Hawkins in a hurry.

Las Vegas turned out to not be so bad.

There were a few bumps in the road upon your first arrival. A few too many drunken nights, drunken fights, and drunken one night stands. But once your dad acknowledged your reckless behaviour was becoming a serious problem, things got a little easier. Therapy helped. 

A year and a half later, there was only one thing that made you want to reach for a drink to flush the hard work down the drain: Eddie Munson and how you treated him at that party, what you put him through that night.

In retrospect, you should’ve been the one to reach out to him. At least a call to say I’m sorry for the things I did and said. No time just felt like the right time and then, when Chrissy posted a picture of herself sitting happily in Eddie’s lap, it seemed a little too late.

Did it hurt to see him move on from the crush he had on you? Yes. 

Again, you couldn’t blame him for doing so.

-

“How was your shower?” Nancy asks when you come back downstairs.

She’s sitting on one of the sofas, a cotton blanket covering her legs. Robin is next to her, fingers working the keyboard of her phone, and looks up following Nancy’s question.

“No offence, but you look a lot better than when you first arrived.” 

The comment earns Buckley a good nudge to the rib cage by the brunette beside her. 

“Ow! Jesus Christ, Nance—”

“We talked about this,” Nancy interrupts, narrowing her eyes at the girl.

“It was a simple observation,” Robin defends, “I’m sure she’s fucking nervous to be here, rightfully so—”

“Robin!”

“It’s okay,” you chime in and the girls simultaneously turn to look at you once again. “Buckley’s right. I am nervous.”

Both their expressions simultaneously turn to one of sympathy. You plaster on the best smile you can muster before making yourself comfortable in an armchair by the open window, feeling their gaze follow your every move. You want to tell them to stop, tell them that the nerves will pass so it’s no big deal, but they’d see right through you. The topic of you, Eddie, and that horrendous high school party will haunt this group like a ghost, lingering in the background even if it’s addressed — which you’re going to have to do very soon. That’s why you came.

“He asks about you all the time,” Nancy says after a long pause, “What’s she doing? Is she working, studying?”

“Is she seeing anyone?” Robin adds.

“Is she happy…”

The ache in your chest increases with every spoken word, fueled by the guilt you carried every single day for the last three years. Somehow knowing now that Eddie asked about you was worse than thinking he’s moved on because, selfishly, if he was happy, then it wasn’t all bad. If he was happy, then the harsh truths you drunkenly sputtered in his direction weren’t a cruel thing to do, they weren’t as vile as you remembered them to be. If he was happy, then what you did after wasn’t a complete betrayal.

“I-I never meant to hurt him,” you finally whisper, forcing down the tears that threaten to break. “I never meant to hurt any of you.”

The girls both offer you a smile.

“We know,” Nancy reassures, “That’s why we thought it’d be a good idea to invite you this weekend. What happened three years ago is so minor in terms of the rest of our lives, it’s time we all move past it.”

Nancy, the peacemaker.

“Plus I’m planning a trip to Vegas for my birthday and I need your help with organising,” Robin chips in, her smile shifting into a grin. “You wouldn’t have answered my call, but now there’s no escape.”

Robin, the girl that can always get you to laugh.

The chuckle that escapes your lips is genuine. For a split second, your nerves are eased and you’re transported back to the basement of your childhood home where the three of you spent hours planning your futures while flicking through trashy magazines in accompaniment to old hits blaring through the docking station your dad’s iPod was connected to. 

Back then, turning twenty-one seemed like a distant dream. 

So you proceed to reassure the blonde you are going to get her name on the list of some of the best clubs Vegas has and she squeals, jumping up to squeeze you with excitement, and telling you how Vickie, her girlfriend, was going to lose her shit over this, then she disappears into the kitchen, presumably to call Vickie with the news.

“You just made her day,” Nancy says, smiling kindly.

“I’m glad I could do at least that,” you reply, then add, “I’m happy to be here. Thank you for thinking of me, Nance.”

Whatever Nancy is about to say next is interrupted by the sound of tires on gravel. The engine is shut shortly after your head snaps in the direction of the entryway, a large gulp forming in the back of your throat.

The next few minutes pass at an agonisingly slow pace. You think you hear Nancy call out your name, but your focus is on the door alone, waiting for it to open, waiting for him to come inside. You’re anticipating his reaction to seeing you after all this time, wondering if he’d even acknowledge your presence or skip straight to the kitchen with the acquired groceries.

From a recent post on Instagram, you know what he looks like. Really good, if anybody asked. You were careful not to like it despite your finger hovering over the image for a few seconds too long. Then you were careful not to like any other picture as you scrolled through his profile until you reached the very end: a post of the two of you at a Halloween party your junior year, the night you finally talked him into creating an account. 

Thanks to the light stalking, you also know him and Chrissy broke up a few weeks ago. He seemingly deleted any trace of the preppy blonde from his profile, she did the same with him, and you couldn’t deny the stinge of satisfaction that cursed through your veins upon that revelation.

When the doorknob rattles, you hop on your feet.

There’s no going back now. You prepared yourself for this moment ever since you accepted Nancy’s invitation. Time to face the music.

Jonathan walks in first. He greets Nancy with a kiss before offloading the twelve-pack of beers onto the floor and turning his attention to you. His smile is big and you’re feeling a little less nervous when he pulls you into a silent hug. When he pulls back, he pats you on the shoulder, then picks up the box he’s after placing on the floor and walks in the direction of the kitchen.

The guy that introduces himself as Argyle is next. Heavy lidded, he’s holding an open bag of Doritos and jokes about how he’d also give you a hug but he doesn’t trust himself with the orange residue on his fingers.

“White t-shirts are the devil, man,” he draws out the last syllable and flops onto the couch next to Nancy, offering her a corn triangle. When she politely declines, he just shrugs and throws it in the air, only to not catch it with his mouth, the piece falling onto the wooden floor.

With your gaze now focused on the chip, a single step away from you, Nancy scolds Argyle to not do that again. In the midst of this small ordeal, you don’t hear your name being said. Only when a white Nike sneaker appears in your field of vision, stepping on the Dorito and smashing it to pieces, you look up at the person addressing you.

Steve’s expression is full of emotion, but he doesn’t move from the spot he’s found himself in. He doesn’t attempt to hug you or reach out for you like the others did, only staring into your eyes as if he was mesmerised by the fact you were actually here.

“Shit– I mean…”

“Yeah…”

That’s all that you can say right now because it’s not yet the time to address what also went down between the two of you at the infamous party. Steve seems to be on the same page as you, opting instead to finally take that step forward and hesitantly wrap his strong arms around your frame.

The hug is awkward at first, but when you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck as if no time has passed, exhaling softly when your hands make home on his back, the boy relaxes and his grip on you tightens ever so slightly. He whispers, “I missed you, sweetheart.”, into your ear and you instantly return the sentiment because it’s true, you missed him terribly. More than you cared to admit to yourself before this very moment.

For a few seconds, you forget where you are. Inhaling the scent of Steve’s aftershave and revelling in the way his arms perfectly folded around you, making you feel safe. For a few seconds, you feel at peace. For a few simple seconds, you forget about the person you’re still to see. The person that most likely wouldn’t be as open to seeing you again, especially now that you were in Steve’s arms.

The door shuts with a tame bang, a distinctive sound of runners tapping against the wooden floor, Nancy says your name as Robin calls out for Steve, you think you hear Argyle murmuring “Ohhh shit, dude”, then someone clears their throat and you finally open your eyes, which seemingly have closed moments prior.

Your throat dries.

There, leaning against the archway with his hands hidden in the pockets of his dark denim jeans is the boy who was once your friend, if not more.

Unlike Steve, Eddie stares at you with a blank look in his eyes, devoid of any real emotion. The emptiness behind the mahogany sends a shiver down your spine and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the position he has once again found you in.

Freeing yourself from Steve’s grasp, you hold your arms close to your chest for protection. He places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, before motioning for Argyle to follow him out of the room, where Nancy and the rest of the group just disappeared — leaving you alone with Eddie.

Neither of you says anything for what feels like an eternity.

You’re afraid to blink, just in case he disappears during the brief second your eyes close. Truthfully, he has every right to do so. Rush upstairs and slam his bedroom door shut as you remain right where he left you, forever haunted by the choices you made three years ago.

No, no. 

There’s a reason you came and that’s to say you’re sorry.

Before you get a chance to break the silence, Eddie scoffs under his breath, dipping his head while running a hand through his brown locks. His hand remains at the back of his neck when he looks up at you again, a stupid smirk now plastered across his face.

“So, you and Harrington seem close as ever.”

Not the first words you expected to come out of his mouth, but given the situation he’s just encountered, they’re not surprising.

You nervously clear your throat, hugging yourself tighter.

“Uhm… No, we were just—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, his words cold yet the tone of his voice deceives him just a little. Also, if he actually didn’t care, then why make a sly comment in the first place?

But you don’t get to point that out, firstly ‘cause you’re still building up the courage to speak, and secondly because he’s quicker to continue with making his opinion known.

“Obviously you’ve always done whatever the fuck you wanted. Whoever you wanted.”

Ouch.

“Eddie, I-I…” you sigh quietly,  “We were just hugging. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Eddie scoffs. “Cute.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t be condescending.” You shake your head. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“‘Cause I missed all of you, plus Nancy invited me and I-I wanted to take this trip to apologise. Explain myself.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“Well as far as I’m concerned, you can keep your apology,” he states sternly, standing up straight and taking a step in your direction. “Clearly the rest of them are right back to licking your ass, just like they did in high school. Entertaining your shitty behaviour, but I’m not interested.”

His words hurt. It feels like tiny nails are being hammered into your heart and you’re helpless to stop it.

“I don’t care for you and I don’t want to be around you. Since we’re stuck here, just refrain from jumping on Harrington at every chance you get. It’s fucking desperate behaviour.”

Tears burn down your cheeks slowly. They blur your vision and make you look like a giant fucking fool, even bigger than you already are. Eddie doesn’t owe you anything, you know that. Yet here you stand, silently crying over his animosity.

Nancy's words ring in your ears, “he asks about you, he asks if you’re happy.”. What a load of bullshit. He clearly doesn’t give a shit.

“I’ll make sure to stay out of your way then,” is all you manage to blurt out, wiping the wet droplets with the back of your hand.

Pushing past him, making a point to shove his shoulder with a little force, you hurry upstairs and into the confines of your bedroom. You make sure not to let the door shut with a bang, steering away from the dramatics Eddie undoubtedly wanted to provoke. Yes, he hurt your feelings, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him ruin this weeknd for you and the rest of your mutual friends.

His reaction didn’t surprise you. In fact, you expected it. 

That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to digest.

Taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you check your phone and begin to open unseen notifications from various social media sites in an attempt to think about anything else than Eddie’s words.

“Deseperate fucking behaviour,” he’s said that to you before. The deja-vu hits harder than anticipated, making the nausea you thought you surpassed earlier spring right back up, stronger.

Yup. As you regain control of your breathing, you think for sure that coming here was definitely a mistake.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

AUTHOR UPDATE: SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

[wcnderlnds]

to the moon | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: on a night out with his dearmoon crew, seunghyun bumps into you and it changes everything whether he realises it or not. ・❥・word count: 1.5k ・❥・warnings: none! ・❥・ authors note: hello!! i love nerdy space boy seunghyun so i'm doing a whole series on it <3

Choi Seunghyun was obsessed with space. He loved everything about it. Whether it was the stars, planets or the many theories on aliens, he could talk for hours about his love for what lies beyond. Unfortunately, he didn't really meet many people who shared his love for the stars and what they held. That was why when he was accepted for the Dear Moon project, he was over the moon.

To be surrounded by like-minded people, to thrive off their energy - it was everything he could have asked for. The last few years particularly had been tough for him. This was what he needed to help get his mind on track. It was scary moving to a country on the other side of the world away from his family and friends but he knew It would be good for his mind. The last place he wanted to be was Korea right now. A new environment with new people would be good for his healing process. 

Texas was very different from what he was used to. Getting used to the new time difference was the hardest part. His body was so used to being on Korean time that it took him a good few weeks to come around to his new time zone. Through the weeks of adjustment to his new life, he'd been going through tests for the space project - passing all of them. He had also grown close with the other people who were also selected to the part. Making friends used to be easy for him but after everything that had happened, he was a little guarded. Someone had betrayed his trust leading his life down a path he hadn't foreseen. Now, he had to pick up the pieces of himself. It wasn't easy but he was determined to lead a happy life. He just had to be careful about the people he let in.

Nights out weren’t usually his thing - opting to stay home, hiding from the world these days. But, it was one of his fellow crew member’s birthdays and he wanted to celebrate with them. That was how he found himself in a small bar, watching his new friends play pool. He’d spent the night chatting with them, having a few drinks. To his surprise, he found himself with a smile on his face all night. It wasn’t often that a genuine smile made its way onto his face. Since he was in a good mood, he decided that he wanted to treat everyone to drinks. There was a small part of him that felt like he owed it to them for all they were doing for him whether they knew it or not. Heading over to the bar, his snapback firmly on his head, he leaned on the surface, waiting to be served. Seunghyun never used to have patience but these days he found himself a little more willing to wait for things. What he didn’t expect, though, was for you to trip and accidentally fall onto him. It was on instinct that his hands reached out to catch you, resting tentatively on your waist to hold you still. Once you were firmly stood upright, he removed his hands. Seunghyun wasn’t really one for skinship with people he didn’t know but he couldn’t just let you fall now, could he?

“Thank you,” you breathed, relieved that you hadn’t injured yourself or the incredibly handsome man stood in front of you. As your eyes (not so subtly) gave him a once over, you noticed that you’d spilled your drink all over his jacket. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Let me fix that.”

You grabbed some napkins off the counter, dabbing at the wet patch on his coat but to no avail. Seunghyun couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the panicked look on your face. “It’s fine. It’ll wash off. Don’t go having a panic attack over it now.”

At his accent, your ears perked up, head rising to meet his dark brown eyes. Wow, he really was so beautiful. “You’re not from around here.”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “I’m from Korea but I’m living here temporarily for a few months.”

“Cute accent,” you quipped, tossing the now wet napkins onto the bar. “What’re you doing all the way in Texas then? Must be important if it’s brought you all the way across to the other side of the world.”

Now, usually you wouldn’t talk with some random guy you’d met in a bar – there had been far too many bad experiences but this man seemed different from the rest. He was a little shy; you’d noticed his cheeks tinting red and his eyes gazing down at the ground at your compliment. His eyes seemed kind, maybe that was because not once had he checked you out. That gained major points for him. Most guys in bars ended up being sleazeballs but you had a good feeling about this one.

“I’m going to space,” he smiled shyly. It sounded ridiculous, he knew that but how else was he supposed to put it?

“What?” You burst out laughing. “Do you use that line on all the girls you meet or am I just special?”

“No, really! It’s called Dear Moon. They’re sending a bunch of us to the moon.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Seriously!” He said, determined to convince you as he leaned forward. As he did, you noticed the NASA snapback he had on. Okay, maybe he was telling the truth and maybe he was going to space but… it was highly unlikely, right? “Me and a bunch of other people got selected to go on a trip to the moon in one of the SpaceX rockets.”

“Okay, okay,” you held your hands up in defense, the corners of your lips turning up into a smile. It was adorable how determined he seemed. “If you’re really going to space then tell me a space fact that a simpleton like me wouldn’t know then maybe I’ll believe you.”

Seunghyun sat in thought for a moment, his perfect eyebrows scrunched. He looked adorable, the pout on his face really making you giggle to yourself. Suddenly, he perked up. His eyes were bright as he spoke excitedly. “Neptune has only completed one orbit around the Sun since its discovery.”

“Okay, well, I’ll have to take your word on it because I know nothing about space,” you laughed, eyeing the bartender as he finally made his way over. “Guess I should get myself another drink since I spilled it all over you. I’m still so sorry about that, by the way.”

“No, let me,” he waved the bartender over, giving his own drink orders then asking for yours. “I’m Seunghyun, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Seunghyun,” you held your hand out for him to shake which seemed silly considering his hands had been on your waist about five minutes ago. He happily shook your hand, his large hand warm in yours. The sparks flying through you the second your skin touched his was something you’d never experienced before. It was almost like you didn’t want to pull away, your eyes drawn to the small smile on his face. It was a moment that you’d never forget. Unfortunately, the bartender decided to ruin it, clearing his throat causing you both to pull your hands back, awkwardly grabbing for your drinks.

“It was nice to meet you, Seunghyun. Here,” you grabbed a pen, writing your number on a napkin, sliding it over to him. “Maybe text me some more cool space facts sometime.”

With a bright smile, you headed off back to your friends. Seunghyun couldn’t help but watch as you walked away. It had been a very, very long time since he’d been so drawn to someone. It had been easy to talk to you, he hadn’t felt the need to hide or make an excuse to walk away. He actually liked the small interaction you’d had; already replaying it in his mind. The way you smiled, the way you kept eye contact with him when you spoke to him. It made tingles run up his spine the way your hand had felt in his. But, no. He couldn’t let himself think like that. The last thing he needed right now was to catch feelings for anyone. Friendship, maybe. There was no harm in that. As he clutched the napkin in his hand, he gave one last look in your direction, seeing you laughing with your friends. He tucked the napkin in his pocket – maybe he would text you at some point.

When you got home that evening, kicking your shoes off, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you unlocked it seeing a text from an unknown number but as you read the text you instantly knew who it was.

If you look out of your window right now you’ll be able to see one of the coolest star constellations. Ursa Major (or big dipper for you, space newbie). Looks like a bowl with a handle :) 

Opening the doors to your small balcony, you looked up to the sky, your eyes searching for the constellation that Seunghyun had mentioned.  It didn’t take long to see what he’d described, a smile creeping onto your face. Bracing your arms on the railing, you typed his name into your phone putting the moon emoji next to his name.

Yeah, maybe this space boy was going to be a danger to your heart.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @justsisse @maskedcrawford @come-as-you-are-111 @sherrayyyyy @loveesiren

[winter-soldier-buck]

heart by heart ♡ b.b

pt. 2

pairing: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x singlemom!fem!reader

warning: uhhhh no new ones i can think of tbh

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: ahhh this took longer to write than i intended, my writer's block was BAD... also... shark week. iykyk. anyways, please let me know what you think of pt. 2 🥹 any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 🫶🏻

series masterlist

New York City, USA - August 2024

Tears streamed down your face as you lay in a fetal position on the cold tile floor of your kitchen, wondering where the hell you went wrong in life that would’ve meant leading to that exact predicament. On the bright side, though, you weren’t hyperventilating anymore and were pretty sure the panic attack had passed.

Slowly, you took another deep, calming breath and pushed yourself up from the ground so you could sit with your back against a cupboard door, resting your left hand gently on top of your 25-week-along baby bump.

Dealing with an unexpected pregnancy alone because your partner of over eight years left, well, less if counting the blip, went zero-contact as a way to keep you ‘safe’ before you even knew you were expecting was one thing. Being told that bed rest was required for the remainder of said pregnancy because of severe pre-eclampsia difficulties, while having no family in the city anymore to help keep your mind at ease during an already strenuous time, was another.

You’d never felt more alone in your life.

The evening had started fine. You got home from your doctor’s appointment half an hour prior, still processing the news that you’d have to spend the last almost three months of your pregnancy on strict bed rest. You were lucky when it came to work because switching to working from home wasn’t a problem. No more site visits were required for your most recent architectural projects, and you were in the early design stages of others. The timing couldn’t have been more right in that sense, and you tried convincing yourself that you could make do with your bed rest prescription.

What you didn’t take into account was how heavy life had already been feeling. That, since Bucky left and you discovered you were pregnant, you’d done an excellent job at pretending everything was fine when, in actuality, it felt like your life was tearing apart at the seams.

Bed rest was the unrealized icing on your already crumbling cake, which you didn’t realize until you got home from the doctor’s and accidentally dropped one of the strawberries you’d just washed to have for a snack onto the floor. Once you heard the berry hit the tile, you crouched down to pick it up. However, given how such a simple task became more difficult over time with your growing baby bump, you lost your balance and toppled over onto the ground, too.

You weren’t hurt, which you were thankful for, but you felt embarrassed and frustrated, which ultimately was the tipping point of the pent-up emotions you already had. The panic attack started shortly after.

It wasn’t until then that you finally accepted that you were not doing well. You still felt claustrophobic even as you worked to calm your pounding heart with more calming breaths and wiped away your tears with the back of your hand.

You felt trapped. It wasn’t just your apartment making you feel so confined anymore; it was New York City as a whole. You moved to the city with Bucky and created a life together. Now you had nowhere to go with so much going wrong, despite everything, including your pregnancy, reminding you of him. How the hell were you going to improve your state while being on bed rest alone for another three months?

To you, everything that could go wrong was doing just that. However, you needed to calm down. Hyperventilating on the kitchen floor wasn’t going to make the overall situation better for you or your baby.

“What am I going to do?” You whispered to yourself, voice cracking with another sob.

That’s when it hit you. You weren’t so alone after all, and you did indeed have somewhere you could go. It was somewhere that had been a place of solace for you years ago, and had people who welcomed you with open arms. It was a location that would forever be a safe haven where you were always welcome.

Quickly, you scrambled to get up off the floor and grab your phone from where it sat on the counter. Once it was unlocked, you scrolled through your contacts but paused when you clicked the name of the person you knew you could reach out to. Part of you didn’t want to bother them, but another part knew it wouldn’t be a bad thing to reach out. So, with another shaky breath, you hit the call button.

They picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, my friend,” the familiar female voice greeted, making you let out a cry of relief. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see.

“It will be,” you said, mainly to convince yourself as you sniffled. “But, right now, I need help.”

The Princess of Wakanda fell silent for a moment, worrying you when all you could hear from the other end was shuffling around, along with a series of beeps and clicks.

“Shuri?”

“Sorry, I needed to get comfortable and was pulling up your location. Tell me everything.”

~*~

New York City, USA - Late 2027

“Piggies or bunnies?” You asked from where you stood behind your daughter as you finished brushing her deep brown hair, then looked at her reflection in the large vanity mirror, since she hadn’t answered your question. However, she was too distracted by looking at your various skincare products that lay on the counter nearby to pay any attention to what you were saying. “Penny.”

She blinked, then immediately moved her blue-eyed gaze to meet yours in the mirror. The same eyes she inherited from her father that hit you like a truck each time you took a good look at them.

“Yeah, mommy?” She questioned innocently.

God, she was cute and she knew it too.

“How do you want me to do your hair today, babe? I can do piggies or bunnies. Oh! Or, if you’d like, we can keep your hair down and pull the front back in braids so it stays out of your face. What do you think?”

Penny looked at herself in the mirror, then pursed her lips in deep contemplation, acting as though it were the most important decision she’d ever have to make. It blew your mind that she was just weeks away from being a threenager, even though the attitude was already there.

“Braids!”

“You got it, darlin’,” you replied, then leaned forward to place a quick peck on her cheek before getting to work.

Once Penny’s hair was done, you helped her down off the bathroom counter, and the two of you headed to her bedroom together.

Laid out on the papasan chair that resided in her room was the collection of clothes she wanted to wear that day, but couldn’t decide which ones. Her indecisiveness was a trait you knew she inherited from you. Still, it made you chuckle as you ultimately combined a New York Rangers t-shirt with the pair of black denim jeans she selected since they were the only options that were remotely suitable for a casual day out in the city. After some convincing, she finally agreed to wear a cream-coloured cardigan as well since you reminded her of the crisp Autumn air that’d taken over NYC in typical late-November fashion.

When it was time to head out, you looked over Penny’s bedroom once more to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, and then your gaze landed on the top of her dresser. Amongst the collection of hair accessories and play jewelry, tucked back against the wall, were two items that never moved from their safe spots on the tall surface, mainly because Penny couldn’t reach them yet.

The first item was a beautiful, small, hand-carved and painted wooden flag of Wakanda with the words “Little Wolf” etched onto its back. That, along with the white wolf plushie Penny slept with every night, was gifted to you for her from Shuri, Okoye and Ayo when she was born.

The second item was a framed picture of Bucky, which you took years ago of him smiling and unsuspecting that his photo was being snapped. It was one of your favourite photos of him, which was why you chose it to reside in Penny’s room when you first brought her home.

Since then, from time to time, you would show her the picture and tell her who it was. She knew the man in that image was her dad, but she didn’t know him or what Bucky being her dad meant. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t around and never asked either. Given that Penny wasn’t quite three years old yet, she was accustomed to life being her and her mom against the world.

Which was why you grew more anxious about going out with each passing second. However, you forced a brave face.

“Pen,” you started, moving your stare back to the toddler. “Do you remember what we’re doing today?”

“Ice cream!” She exclaimed and looked up at you with a big smile as you moved toward her, then crouched so you’d be closer to eye level.

“Yes, we are going to get ice cream. But, do you remember what else we’re gonna do?”

Her eyes widened.

“The park!”

You giggled at how excited she was getting.

“Heck yeah, we are,” you told her, unable to stop smiling as you observed her. “While we’re at the park, though, someone is going to meet us there. He’s an old friend of Mommy’s. Is that ok with you if he joins?”

“Sure, Mama,” Penny nodded, still grinning at you before she crashed into you for a hug.

Your heart swelled so much it felt like it could burst. You wasted no time returning her hug, holding her tight against your chest while you kissed the top of her head.

“Perfect. I love you, Bubba.”

“Love you too, Mommy.”

~*~

Being a true New Yorker, you knew all the hidden gems the city had to offer. However, you couldn’t deny that tourists were onto something when it came to certain spots.

Central Park, despite being a major tourist attraction, was one of your favourite spots in NYC, and Penny inherited that love for the park too. It was a special spot for both of you, a love you shared.

This was why you felt indifferent about it being where Penny would meet Bucky, even though she didn’t understand the significance of him being the ‘old friend’ of yours she was meeting. However, Central Park was one of her safe spaces, which was why you agreed for their inevitable meeting to be there.

It’d been over two weeks since you reconnected with Bucky in that coffee shop. Since then, he’d given you plenty of space. He kept in contact with you, which took some getting used to, but you liked it. You missed him, which was a flurry of emotions you weren’t ready to address just yet.

One thing that really got you during those two weeks was how Bucky didn’t press you about meeting Penny once. You had set a boundary, promising him that meeting Penny would happen when you were ready, which Bucky respected. When he reached out to you, he’d ask little things like how your day was going, which, in the long run, meant a lot and complicated that array of emotions you were already feeling when it came to him.

But, at the same time, you expected nothing less from him. It was Bucky who set the standard you had for men to be set so high. It was part of the reason you hadn’t moved on with anyone romantically after he left. Not because you were holding out, hoping he’d come back, but because he made you realize how very few men there truly were in this world of boys.

Because of how deferential Bucky was about meeting Penny, you started feeling guilty for dragging it out. After some consideration, the night prior, you reached out to him asking if he was free to meet you and Penny the following day. Bucky jumped at the opportunity.

You both agreed on convening at Central Park in the afternoon, which was why you planned a little Mommy/Penny date day out of it.

Penny held your hand as the two of you strolled around Bethesda Terrace, one of her favourite spots in the entire park. She thought the terrace was beautiful, and the architect in you couldn’t agree more. It was a place you’d both people watch, while just enjoying each other’s company.

However, you already knew this day in your spot with Penny wasn’t going to be as peaceful, but it still would’ve been impossible to predict what was to come as the two of you sat down by the fountain together.

“So,” you started, smiling while tucking a stray piece of hair behind Penny’s ear. “Do you know what kind of ice cream you’re going to get, little miss?”

She glanced up at you with an unimpressed expression, as if asking you why you were asking stupid questions.

“Mommy,” Penny replied and raised an eyebrow at you. She knew that you knew what her favourite was.

You chuckled.

“Ah. Chocolate, right?”

Penny scowled.

“Nilla.”

“Of course,” you responded, still laughing at the pout she continued staring at you with. “You know I’m just messing. I’ll get your Vanilla ice cream, don’t you worry.”

Penny nodded in approval, then went back to people-watching.

After a moment of observing her, you shook your head at the little diva you were raising, then pulled your phone from your coat pocket, knowing it had to be nearing the time Bucky said he’d meet you both. Sure enough, there was a missed text from him. However, there was another missed text and seeing their name had you feeling hit by a wave of guilt.

It was Caleb, the guy you’d been talking to for just over two months.

Caleb was great. He was kind, charismatic and genuinely seemed so into you. You liked him a lot, too. He was the only guy that you’ve really felt anything for since Bucky left. Any others just consisted of miserable first dates that didn’t evolve into anything else.

But Caleb was different. However, you’d unintentionally put him on a bit of a back burner once Bucky showed back up in your life again, which had you feeling terrible.

You stared at his text thread in your phone for a moment but ultimately decided not to open it. He deserved a proper response from you, and your mind was too scattered because of what was about to happen, to give that to him.

Exhaling, you put your phone back in your pocket, not responding to either man as you joined Penny in observing the people nearby.

Immediately, your gaze fell on a man standing about 20 feet away who was dressed head to toe in black. Normally, seeing someone wearing such an outfit in a place like New York wouldn’t faze you, but for some reason, this man was staring right at you. Unmoving amongst the swarm of people that buzzed past him.

Nothing about the man seemed familiar to you, so you glanced over your shoulder to see if he was looking at someone else behind you. There was no one there, which made you feel on edge.

You whipped your head forward again to look at the man, but suddenly, he was gone, as if you’d imagined him being there in the first place.

“You ok, Mama?” Penny asked, snapping you out of your daze as she looked up at you with a concerned expression.

“Yes, baby, I’m fine-,” you started, but cut yourself when a familiar voice sounded nearby, immediately pulling your attention to them.

“I really don’t know why you’re still following me,” Bucky grumbled as he weaved through the bystanders on the other side of the fountain, looking handsome as hell in his dark grey button-down jacket. “I said I was fine and wanted to be alone.”

“You were weird today,” a woman with short blonde hair and a thick accent replied, keeping up with him effortlessly. “I want to know what’s wrong with you. Would you rather me follow you in secret?”

“I’d rather you didn’t follow me at all. I have a life outside of you guys, you know?”

“No, you don’t, Bucky. You love us. We’re a team, we should-.”

“Bucky, hi,” you greeted, standing up as the two approached. You felt awkward interrupting them, but if you didn’t say anything, they would’ve walked right past.

“Y/N,” Bucky said, coming to a stop. His hard expression softened once he laid eyes on you. Then, his gaze moved to Penny, and you could see the flurry of emotions flashing in those beautiful blues. However, before he could say anything more, the woman he was with cleared her throat, making him jump. “Right, uh, Y/N, this is Yelena. We’re coworkers. She wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Teammates,” Yelena corrected, rolling her eyes at Bucky before she surveyed you. “Y/N, that name sounds familiar.”

“Oh, well, I knew Nat quite well,” you told her, smiling softly. “That could be why. She told me a lot about you.”

Yelena nodded, smiling back.

“You knew my sister. How you knew her, I’m assuming, has to do with how you know Bucky.”

“Yeah, something like that. Bucky and I have known each other for a long time.”

“We used to date,” Bucky stated firmly.

“Used to?” Yelena asked. “She must’ve come to her senses.”

You chuckled, shrugging as you looked back down at Penny, who was observing the other two unsurely as she partially hid behind your leg from where she stood next to you.

“And this is my daughter, Penelope,” you continued, reaching down to grab Penny’s hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Penny, this is Bucky and Yelena. Bucky is the friend I was telling you about. Can you say hi?”

Penny was silent for a moment, her eyes locked on Bucky. She blinked a few times, not looking away from him as she studied his features. You wondered if she recognized him from the picture in her bedroom, but was unable to connect that it was the same person.

“Hi,” Penny replied meekly, then inched closer to you. She was so incredibly shy.

Squeezing her hand again, you looked back at Bucky and Yelena.

Your knees almost gave out at the way Bucky looked at Penny. He studied her as though he thought she might disappear on him at any second, but looked completely mesmerized by her as he did so. Acting like he needed to memorize every perfect little thing about her as though his life depended on it. He was in complete awe of her, and it showed.

“Cute kid,” Yelena said, kind of ruining the moment.

“Hi, Penny,” Bucky spoke in a soft, gentle voice. The slightest bit of tears welled in his eyes as he smiled widely. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

You remained silent as you observed Bucky, but became distracted when Yelena noticeably kept looking between him and Penny.

“She kind of looks like you,” Yelena started, then gasped, eyes widening as realization washed over her. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait a minute.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed at her.

“Yelena,” he warned.

“You two used to… is she? You have a kid!?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Yelena asked incredulously. “No way. This is GREAT news. I can’t wait to tell the others. But, why are you acting like you just met her for the first time?”

“That’s because he just met her for the first time,” you chimed in, not missing the way Bucky nodded at you in thanks. “It’s a really long story.”

Yelena looked flabbergasted.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he refused to make eye contact with Yelena. However, his stare fell back onto Penny, making him noticeably relaxed. “Not exactly how I imagined this going.”

“It’s ok, we just-,” you started but cut yourself again when footsteps stopped behind you and someone spoke.

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” a man said, making you freeze.

Slowly, you turned around, once again wondering where the hell you went wrong in life and how it could’ve led you to this exact moment. Because, on top of everything else going on, there stood Caleb.

taglist 🫶🏻: @avengersfan25 @wonwoosthetic @xprloki @ordelixx @cherrypieyourface @xhazzz @avafaustus @lazyneonrabbitt @lovely-seb @a-book-lover-things @herejustforbuckybarnes @capswife @avivarougestan @vicmc624 @sebastians-love @chiyayaa @mcueveryday @buckysdoll1940 @mattyblover07 @alicetesser

[youunravelme]

to all the girls you've loved before part seven

author's note: WHEW okay i am so sorry it took five days short of a year to finish this. what a wild ride it has been! i just wanted to shout out my dear friend @dani746 who has cheered me on (and roasted me) many times throughout this process. i probably wouldn't have finished this without you. i also want to shout out my other friend @thewintersoldierdisaster who helped me process so much of this part to get it written. you both are the best and i owe you both big time! i also owe all of you who have read and reblogged and replied and liked this series over the last year and a half, you have been so amazing! anyway, here's part seven! (and not to worry, while this is the last part of the series, i will be writing more about mama bear and mat).

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, fear of falling in love, anxiety

day seventy-one

you arrived at sydney and matt's in thirty minutes. it probably would've taken less time had traffic not been absolutely abhorrent due to the holiday.

you thanked the driver and paid before grabbing your bag and walking out into the cold air.

in your rush, you forgot a jacket.

you stumbled up the martin's front steps, and dialed sydney's number, pointedly ignoring the five missed calls and eleven texts from mat.

"hello?" thank god sydney sounded awake.

"hey," you exhaled. "can you let me in? i need a place to stay for tonight."

you could hear her mumble something to her husband. and the door was opened thirty seconds later.

matt ushered you in without a word. sydney met you in the foyer with a crease between her brows at the sight of your jacket-less frame and the bag in your hands.

"what happened?" she asked as she led you to the living room and sat you down on a couch. a ringtone sounded and when you turned around matt was answering his phone.

your focus shifted to matt who was looking straight at you. "hey barzy," he said. "yeah, she's here." he nodded, but his eyes were focused on you and sydney. "she got here just a minute ago. no she doesn't have a jacket. syd's with her now." matt hummed into the phone. "we'll drive her to the airport tomorrow, don't worry about it."

you wanted to bury yourself into the pillows. you wanted the couch to swallow you whole.

you didn't hear the end of the conversation matt had on the phone. to be quite frank, you weren't sure you wanted to hear it at all.

matt joined you and syd on the sectional. he threw an arm around the back of the couch and the very sight of it made you sick. you loved them together, you did, that wasn't your problem.

it just reminded you how jason never did anything close to that.

or more importantly (and maybe this was your bigger concern): your shoulders felt cold without mat's arm wrapped around them.

"what happened?" matt asked. and you had to give it to him, you appreciated the "no bullshit" approach he was taking, even if you felt a little attacked.

you opened and closed your mouth repeatedly, but no words came out.

"i'm asking because barzy sounded like he was two seconds away from a full blown panic attack."

you could feel your ears getting hot. your cheeks were getting warm. you wanted to throw up.

"we kissed," you mumbled.

the martins blinked, and you had to give credit where credit was due, sydney didn't shout "i told you so." matt, though, seemed to recognize that the conversation was probably best had between you and sydney because he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and walked out of the room.

sydney nodded and cocked her head to the side. "why did you run?" she asked.

you broke eye contact to look at your hands which were furiously picking at your cuticles. you could see her move closer, leaning forward on her elbows.

sydney said your name quietly. "what happened? did he overstep a boundary? i can get matt to say something to him--"

"i kissed him," you admitted, still not looking up. "i kissed him and freaked out and ran."

“why?”

you exhaled and continued picking at your fingers. "jason said some shit that just got under my skin and now i can't stop thinking about it."

sydney waited for a moment before she spoke again. "what did he say?"

you couldn't see, and it took you a minute to realize that it was because your eyes were blurring with tears. it felt pathetic to sniffle and wallow when it was your fault.

it was all your fault.

"no it's not, honey," sydney said, sounding closer than she did a few minutes ago. you didn't even realize you had said anything. "what did your ex say to you?"

"he said mat would eventually get bored of me. whether that meant just in general or if we slept together."

"you know that's not true, right?"

you halfheartedly shrugged.

sydney was beside you now. she placed her hand on your knee and squeezed. "honey, it's not true. jason treated you like shit, if the one interaction i saw the two of you have was any indication." when you didn't reply, she sighed. "we don't have to talk about it anymore. let's get the guest room set up so you can get some sleep."

it took all of ten minutes for the guest room to be ready. you were curled into the bed moments later.

you found yourself staring at the ceiling wondering how you could've ruined your life so quickly.

you shouldn't have kissed him.

god what were you thinking.

at a professional level, he was your boss, at a technical level, he was a roommate and also—

the best guy you'd ever known.

not that it mattered at the end of the day. you kissed him and ruined any sort of relationship, professional or platonic, you could've had. you might not have been a stem girly, might not be a rocket scientist, but even you could knew that it didn't matter if the stars aligned—

there was no way mat barzal was in love with you.

so you cried yourself to sleep and dreamt of the hazel eyes that had enraptured your heart.

day seventy-two

matt drove you to the airport and thankfully said nothing about your puffy eyes and messy hair. it was safe to say you were restless all night, barely feeling like you slept at all when your alarm went off.

“do you need someone to pick you up when you get back into town?” matt asked as jfk airport approached.

you hesitated. “i hadn't thought that far ahead,” you admitted. “mat was supposed to pick me up, but i don't think he'll want to see me.” not after you ruined everything.

matt nodded. “text syd and let her know when your flight gets into town and we’ll figure something out. if not us, then i’m sure the lees can help.”

when he pulled up to the airport, you gave him a grateful smile and a small thanks before grabbing your personal item and carry on and getting out of his suv. for a brief second, you contemplated jumping back in his car and begging matt to take you back to mat and ella, but you forced your legs to carry you into the airport, telling yourself your mother would be upset if you missed your flight.

so you walked through the airport, through tsa, to your gate, onto the plane, like a zombie. you couldn't stop imagining the way mat’s lips felt against yours, couldn't stop hearing jason’s words in your head like a broken record.

and when your plane took off, you imagined and wondered how mat did it all the time. your stomach dropped as you increased in elevation. your heart lurched when you looked at your lock screen, a photo of the three of you after one of his games.

you should change it, but you loved that little girl and that photo was one time of many recent memories where you felt like you truly belonged.

you locked your phone to keep yourself from thinking about it too much.

your mom met you in your hometown’s airport with a cheesy poster with your baby pictures plastered all over it. she squealed and shoved the poster at your father in favor of nearly tackling you to the ground. you could've cried in her arms, the weight of the last few months catching up to you. for all your parents’ faults, of which there were many, it felt good to be with them again.

your mom pulled back and gave you a watery smile. her hands framed your cheeks as she pulled your head down to place a kiss in your hair. “we've missed you, sweetheart,” she said. “christmas wasn’t christmas without you.”

“missed you too, mom.”

your dad scooped up your carry on and led you to the beat up suv he'd had since you were a sophomore in high school.

the backseat felt familiar like wearing your dad’s old college t-shirt, like fitting into something you'd previously forgotten about. your parents recapped the last few months to you, as they told you about the family drama and what happened at christmas. you were only half listening, doing your best to keep up when you left your heart and mind in new york. you glanced at your parents, married for thirty years, been through their own fair share of struggles. you passively wondered if there was ever this crippling fear in their chests at the idea of loving someone else, or of even falling in love and the enormity of it.

you knew logistically you weren't the first person to fear the act of falling, but you felt so alone in it.

wasn't it crazy? humans had been falling in love for ages and yet you felt completely isolated in this feeling. you weren't the first woman to fall in love with her boss, with a single father, with an athlete. you probably weren't the first to fall in love with a man who was all of the above—

but god it felt like it.

the entire experience felt confining. you knew there were girls dating famous athletes, but they were models, or rich, or childhood sweethearts, or not as mentally fucked up as you currently felt. you were never gonna be sydney or grace or sofia or any of the other nice girls you’d met. you were a nanny, a girl who chose a useless major in a highly competitive city who couldn't handle the stress of a starbucks in new york city at 8am. then you’d gone and kissed mat and consequently felt lighter than you had in the weeks it’d been since you found out your ex cheated on you with the girl you lived with.

but as soon as it ended, you remembered seeing the rangers jersey discarded on your living room floor. you remembered the way your stomach dropped to your toes, how you wanted so badly to pretend it wasn’t happening, but the noises from your roommate’s bedroom were evidence enough.

the writing was in the stars, it was in the fucking clouds, on the fucking wall. every man you'd had been with prior, you'd realized, treated you like garbage. your high school boyfriend never texted or called you back at a reasonable time. your sophomore year of college boyfriend never fully committed, saying he was too busy during football season.

then there was jason who didn’t really show red flags until you started working for mat.

he’ll get bored of you.

“honey? you okay? you went quiet for a second.”

your mom’s voice snapped you out of whatever that mental spiral was.

you gave her your best convincing smile and nodded. “just thinking.”

“how’s that boyfriend of yours?” your dad asked. “jack? joseph?”

“jason?” you gritted out through your painfully tight smile.

your dad snapped and smiled. “that’s his name. how is he?”

“i wouldn’t know, we’re not together anymore,” you mumbled just loud enough for them to hear, but not loud enough for it to echo in your brain.

the car went silent, even as the radio crackled out some random eighties bop from when your parents were in college.

“are you okay?” your mom asked.

“i’m fine.”

day seventy-three

your parents didn't make you celebrate christmas as soon as you got into town. they, thankfully, waited a day before calling your entire extended family over to watch you open presents alone. you smiled and thanked each member for their corresponding present. you dutifully laughed at every joke and sipped at your glass of red wine in hopes that the acidity would distract you from heavier things.

like the texts from sydney asking if you were alright.

or the video from mat of ella playing with the stuffed hippo you got her. you'd watched it ten times just to hear her laugh that she definitely inherited from his childlike cackle. you couldn't help but see the scrunched up face of ella’s that was a carbon copy of her father’s. but even after all that, you still didn't have the heart to reply. what would you even say?

“aw she’s so cute! also sorry i kissed you and ran away?”

you were on your fourteenth watch of the video when he texted again.

mat: let me know when your flight is coming back into town, we’ll pick you up.

you locked your phone and took a sip of your wine. and when your cousin did a cartwheel in the middle of the living room and nearly knocked over the christmas tree? you smiled politely while her parents chided her while you tried to forget the similar stories mat’s parents told you about his childhood.

as the family members cleared out, you helped your parents clean up the common areas. you were in the kitchen with your mom loading the dishwasher when she asked the question you were dreading.

“when are you going back to new york?”

your hands nearly dropped the plate you were holding, but you recovered quickly. “i have to be back before the isles’ next roadie.” a non answer, but you didn't feel like pulling out your calendar and counting the days to see how close you were to facing the mess you left on the island.

“are you staying for new year’s?”

you didn't need to look at your calendar to know you'd already been gone for too long. you'd memorized mat’s schedule at the beginning of the season when you started working for him. his roadie started on new year’s eve.

when you did the dreaded math, you had maximum two days left before you had to head back and take care of ella like nothing had happened.

“i can’t, mat has a road trip that starts on new year’s eve.” you couldn't even look at her. “i’m sorry, mom.”

but she shrugged your apology off and hugged you from behind with a tight grip. “don't apologize, baby. i just wish you'd tell us what's going on.”

“there’s nothing going on—”

your mother said your name, a cross between gentle and chastising. “i was born at night, but not last night. i know you, i know when something’s wrong. if you don't want to talk about it, that’s fine. you're an adult. but don't lie and say you're okay.”

you nodded but didn't offer up any more information.

“when you're ready,” she said, rubbing your back. “when you're ready to talk, i’m here to listen.” your mom pressed a kiss to your cheek, squeezed your shoulders, and walked out of the kitsch, leaving you to gaze out the window over the sink.

day seventy-five

sydney picked you up from the airport at noon with a certain smile on her face that you couldn't place. the backseat was devoid of her kids, so you assumed they were with the nanny or matt was home already with the kids.

she did most of the talking, which you were thankful for. you still felt unsettled back on the island so soon. too soon, if anyone asked. there was nothing more that you wanted than to go back home and hide under the covers in your childhood bedroom, pretending that your biggest fears were monsters in the shapes of shadows from your closet doors.

you were only halfway paying attention. your thoughts were monopolized by the last memories you had before going to your parents’ house. the sound of ella’s laugh when she opened your gift, the warmth in your chest at the anders and grace’s christmas party because you felt so welcomed in by people you'd only known for a few months, the overwhelming unnamable emotion in your stomach at the photo album mat gave you, the capsizing undertow feeling of being seen and known, how mat’s lips felt against your own like every good thing you’d ever done was to make sure you deserved that moment.

you were floating in your own thought bubbles when sydney parked her car in the garage. your eyes didn't wander to the car parked in the street, or the reason why she brought you to her place instead of the one you shared with mat.

you weren’t thinking of any of that until you heard his laugh from the living room.

but your feet were already carrying you there, following sydney diligently like you always did. you stood there in the entrance of the living room, your bag still wheeled behind you.

he'd robbed you of all oxygen.

it was like a spotlight was on him and the nearly eleven month old baby in his arms. a closer look showed that ella was barely holding her eyes open, but she was clinging to her hippo like her life depended on it. 

she looked so small, curled into mat’s chest, but so big compared to when you first met her.

her father cheering loudly when he scored on marty, had her flinching awake. her brown eyes opened wide and by some act of grace (or maybe torture on your part) she made eye contact with you and whined. ella reached her hands out for you.

and who were you to deny her?

you ignored the feeling of his eyes on your face, ignored the way his mouth opened in your peripheral vision. instead, you picked up ella and bounced her as she tucked her head under your chin, ignoring the hazel eyes that were locked on your face.

“you're back,” were the first words mat said to you since you left his apartment that night. “how was your trip?”

you fussed over ella in your arms to keep him from seeing how your hands shook around him and vaguely registered that marty had paused the game. “it was fine,” you said. “how long did your family stay in town?”

“they left yesterday, told me to tell you goodbye.”

you nodded, unable to form any other words to keep the conversation going, so you walked towards the kitchen in hopes sydney would follow. she did, thankfully, and soon enough the sound of chel echoed through the downstairs.

“what was that?” sydney whispered. “you haven't seen him in a few days and that’s all you have to say?”

“what did you want me to say? ‘sorry i kissed you and ran away. hope your holiday was fun?’”

sydney sighed through her nose and placed her hands on her hips. “you’re gonna have to talk about it eventually.”

“and i get that, but i don’t want an audience when we talk about it.”

she nodded and looked to the side. “i just hate to see you two like this.”

“like what?”

“like you're strangers.”

a cleared throat kept you from replying, but it did have you turning your head to see mat leaned against the entryway of the kitchen. “i don’t mean to rush you, but i think we need to get ella home so she's in her crib for at least a portion of her nap.”

quickly you nodded and bid goodbye to sydney and, at the door, you smiled at marty as he opened the front door. mat had his hand on your suitcase and was already carrying it outside to his car like it weighed nothing, which it certainly was not light because you had to sit on it with your parents’ obese cat in your lap while your mom zipped it up.

mat loaded your suitcase, you strapped his child in her car seat. he got in the driver’s seat while you slid into shotgun.

and neither of you said a word.

not until you got about five minutes into the drive. it was almost like mat couldn't handle the quiet anymore. “we don’t have to talk about it after this, but i think we should at least acknowledge what happened, right?”

“we don't have to acknowledge it at all, really. it was unprofessional and crossed too many boundaries. i think it’s best if we just forget about it.”

you were too busy staring out the window, watching the buildings pass to see something like hurt flash in mat’s eyes. “why? why do we have to forget it?”

he will get bored of you.

you shook your head and continued to look out the window.

“no, i think i deserve an answer, a reason why you ran out of our apartment on christmas and didn’t say anything.”

“it’s nothing, mat.”

“it’s something if you won't even look at me.” he sighed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. judging by the white color of his knuckles, you guessed he'd only tightened his hold. “i just—” he cut himself off with a sigh and rubbed at his jaw with one hand. “do you still want to look after ella? because if you don't, i’ll need some time to find someone else—”

you flinched into the passenger window. “why would you think i wouldn't want to watch her?”

mat shrugged. “i don't know, you don't want to seem to be around me and considering she's my daughter, i just figured.”

“as long as you're okay with it, i’d like to keep nannying. but if you want me to find another place to stay—”

“don't worry about it, it won't be a problem.”

you nodded but didn't say a word for the rest of the ride home. not to worry though, neither did mat.

when you finally got back to the apartment, you grabbed your suitcase while he maneuvered ella out of her car seat and into his arms. neither of you spoke, not even as you went your separate ways as you got into the apartment. you split in the hallway with him going into ella’s nursery and you into your room.

you at least waited to hear the door shut behind you before your shoulders slumped and tears pricked at your eyes.

he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored—

i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone—

someone else. someone else. someone else. someone else—

a knock on the door startled you enough that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the noise that escaped your lips.

“you okay?” he asked.

you managed to clear your throat and squeak out a “mhm.” you didn't hear any movement, probably mat wondering if he should press the issue, but after a few moments, you could hear feet padding back down the hallway.

you should’ve unpacked, you should’ve cleaned your room from how you left it. you should’ve done a lot of things. but you took a shower where you cried the entire time. then you got in bed and wished you were in your parents’ house so you could smell the slightly burned sugar cookies your mom made and hear your dad’s disgruntled sighs from the living room when his football team didn't play well.

now you were sitting in a cold city that you used to adore, but it felt like the love had evaporated once you were shown how unlovable you were. jason cheated, mat suggested a replacement, maybe that’s all you were. maybe you were just the ikea couch that moved from apartment to apartment only to be replaced with a crate and barrel sofa when the owner got a house.

there was no telling how long time passed before mat knocked again. “tito’s coming over, did you want anything? he’s offering to pick something up.”

you cleared your throat yet again before speaking. “no, no i’m good.”

“you sure? he's getting pizza from borelli’s.”

your stomach growled but you ignored it. “i’m sure, thanks mat.”

the footsteps retreated, leaving you to your thoughts.

it wasn’t long before ella woke up, forcing you to leave your little cave you called a bedroom. she smiled when she saw you, all her four little baby teeth proudly on display. you pulled her out of her sleep sack and changed her diaper, all while her legs and arms were flapping around happily.

“did you have a good nap, ella bean?” she didn't say any intelligible words, mostly just babble, but you smiled anyway. “i bet, baby girl. do you wanna go see dada and uncle tito?”

her deep brown eyes lit up. her eyes were probably the only thing she got from her mom considering she was a carbon copy of mat.

once her diaper was changed, you buttoned her onesie and pulled her little pants back on before you carried her into the living room.

both mat and tito’s eyes lit up when they saw her. almost immediately, ella started kicking her legs and pushing away from you to go to her dad. instead of bringing her straight to mat, you let her down on the floor and watched as she crawled her way to him.

she’d gotten much faster in your absence, even if it was only for a few days. and to your joy, and maybe a little tweak of sadness, she pulled herself up on mat’s knees where he pulled her into his lap.

“how was practice?” you asked.

mat blinked at you. “we didn’t come from practice...”

“i know,” you replied. “but i didn't get to ask you earlier this morning, so i’m asking now.”

tito’s eyes bounce back and forth from you and mat, almost like he’s unsure of what to do.

mat shrugged. “it was fine, just a lot of bag skating.”

and given their performance a few nights ago, that wasn’t completely surprising.

you nodded and walked into the kitchen when the tension became too much. you gripped the cold counter and took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time—

“you okay?”

your eyes shot open and you spun around to see beau standing in the kitchen with a furrow between his brows.

“y-yeah, why?”

he jerked a thumb over his shoulder where mat was playing with ella on the living room floor, or at least you assumed he was, you couldn't see him from where you were standing. “you're joking, right? you seriously don’t know why? it’s been almost three months and i’ve never heard you talk to each other that way.”

“like what?”

“short.” when you said nothing, he continued. “what’s going on?”

“you mean he didn't tell you?”

“tell me what? that you kissed him and ran away and didn't speak to him while you were gone? yeah, he told me that. didn't tell me anything else though.”

beau wasn’t being cruel, you knew that. he was simply narrating what you had done in a matter of fact manner.

so why did it feel like someone was twisting a knife in your chest?

he sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “look, i’m not judging you, i just hate to see you both acting this way.”

“acting like what?”

“strangers. or maybe worse than strangers.”

 “what could be worse than strangers?”

“estranged lovers.”

a scoff left your lips before you could stop it. “one kiss hardly makes us estranged lovers.”

“no but it does make you two act like you don’t know how to be around each other.”

you refused to look at him, choosing instead to study the grain of the marble countertop. “he’s my boss, tito. i shouldn't have done it.”

he fixed you with a look you couldn't quite interpret. maybe it was similar to one sydney gave winnie after she asked her mom a million questions when none of them made sense and had no obvious connection between them. “you're lying to yourself if you think that’s all you are to him, if that’s all he is to you.”

you shrugged your shoulders. “that’s all we can be.”

“says who?”

no one, no one but you. you and that cruel voice in your head that sounds a lot like your ex. “we just can’t.”

“maybe you just need to be proven wrong. allow him to prove you wrong.”

day seventy-seven

“are you still coming to the game tonight?” mat called from his room while you sat in the living room watching ella play with the stacking cups before she got mad and knocked them over.

to say things had returned to normal would be a lie, but you and mat were good at pretending the elephant wasn’t in the room or even in the apartment building. “i’m not sure,” you replied loud enough for him to hear. “ella’s been kinda cranky all day, hasn’t napped well.”

on cue, ella knocked down the cups and screamed bloody murder. you cringed almost immediately. as soon as the scream was over, you could hear mat’s sigh from his bedroom. his voice sounded closer when he spoke again. “you think she’s getting sick?”

you glanced up and saw mat walking through the doorway. in his suit, he still managed to squat next to you. you quickly averted your eyes instead of staring at his thighs. “i don't know, she doesn’t have a fever, she could be teething or it could just be a sleep regression. all three are possible.”

mat leaned in and ruffled the hair on ella’s head. any attitude or frustration she had evaporated the second she saw her dad. she lifted her arms and babbled until he picked her up. he stood up to his full height and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “does she feel warm to you?

you stood and replaced his hand with yours. you hummed. “maybe a little, but it’s also a little warm in here.”

mat nodded before he kissed the top of ella’s head. “just let me know if you plan on coming.”

“we’ll be there,” you said before you could stop yourself.

if you were a painter, you'd capture the look of mild surprise on mat’s face because it was equal parts endearing and handsome, you couldn't describe it in just words. “really?”

“yeah,” you said, a small smile on your face. “you’ll need your number one fans there.” and even if you doubted your permanence in his life, there was no doubt in your mind where he ranked in yours. “i mean,” you babbled. “aside from your parents and liana.”

mat chuckled a little. “you definitely rank higher than liana. you don't roast me as much as she does.”

“yeah well, she knows more about hockey than i do.”

his eyes looked into yours and you felt the vulnerability of being seen, of being observed through a microscope.

he’ll get bored of you—

“you should know that doesn't matter to me, it’s the fact that you show up.”

“i’ll keep showing up then,” you smiled. “even if i have no idea what’s going on.”

his smile matched your own. “i’ll come home and explain it to you then.”

you probably could’ve stared at him for eternity, his floppy hair and hazel eyes but ella screamed and wriggled around until mat put her back down on the floor, ending whatever moment you thought you were having.

he glanced at his wrist watch and cursed. “i gotta go or i’ll be late, you have the tickets right?”

“they're on my phone, you sent them yesterday.”

he nodded looking at you then ella, then back at you. “i’ll see you later, then. text me if something changes, i’ll check between periods.”

“you really shouldn't—”

“but i’m going to anyway!” he exclaimed before shutting the door behind him.

ella got a kick out of the uber ride to ubs, even from the comfort of her car seat. the driver was kind enough to play gracie’s corner, which was ella’s new musical obsession. she was giddy for once (because she’d been cranky all day) and didn't even protest when you put the headphones on her head as you entered the noisy arena.

you made your way down to the glass where sydney and grace were waiting with their kids. while it wasn’t your first time at a game with ella, it was your first time this close to the ice. mat had sent you tickets because the wags didn't rent a suite out for the game this time. which, in all honesty, was more than fine with you, experiencing a live game close up sounded more than fun.

the boys came out skating at a pace you couldn't dream of replicating. your eyes were as wide as ella’s as you both looked around, stunned.

“you okay?” sydney chuckled. “you look like a deer in headlights.”

you nodded. “they're just...really fast.”

grace and sydney laughed but nodded along with you.

after the initial lap of skating, matt and anders came over to say hi to their kids and wives. matt had a knowing look in his eye and skated away momentarily. maybe you were a little dumb for being surprised when mat, your mat (but not really) came up to the boards grinning ear to ear. 

ella, by an act of god, recognized him even with his helmet on (not that it covered his whole face, but you'd seen videos of babies freaking out when their dads shave so you weren't sure how she would react). she was flapping her arms and squealing, a nice change from the ear piercing scream she’d been giving you all afternoon.

you couldn't really hear what mat was saying, but you saw the happiness in his eyes, the matching grin he shared with his daughter. you didn't even realize you were staring at him until his eyes met yours. he gave you another award winning smile before grabbing a puck and tossing it over for a girl a few seats away from you.

before you realized the time, mat skated away from you so he could finish warming up. that, of course, didn't stop him from looking over in your general direction to look at ella who was enraptured by the entire experience.

the buzzer sounded shortly after and the game started.

ella made it about seventeen minutes into the first period before deciding she’d had enough. smiling apologetically to the other girls, you said, “sorry, the queen has decided it’s time for bed.”

“how're you getting home?” syd asked.

“uber,” you said.

“text us when you get home,” grace said.

you nodded and grabbed your things and placed ella in her car seat before heading up the numerous stairs to the lobby area of the arena. you sent a text to mat after you ordered your uber but before you walked outside, not wanting to stand out in the cold longer than you had to.

you: 

sorry to miss the game! the queen has said she’s had enough. we’re about to get a taxi.

you didn't expect him to reply soon. you managed to get an uber and head back to your shared apartment when you got a text back. 

mat:

call me when you get home.

before you could stop yourself, you furrowed your brows and replied.

you:

what if you’re in the game?

his reply was immediate.

mat:

call anyway, if i have time during the second intermission, i’ll call back. if not, i’ll see you at home.

as if on instinct, you smiled at your phone. you didn't even realize the uber arrived at your apartment building until the driver threw the car in park.

“thank you,” you said as you climbed out of the car and unhooked ella’s car seat.

the first thing you did upon entering the apartment was put ella and her car seat on the floor. the second was pull out your phone and call mat like he asked you to. it rang twice before your heard his voice on the other line.

“you home?”

you blinked. “you actually picked up?

he made a noise that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “you're surprised?”

“you have a game to focus on.”

“this isn’t a lengthy conversation. i just needed to know that you got home alright.”

“well we’re home. you can stop stressing about us and go win a game instead.”

he cackled through the phone right before he said a quick bye and hung up.

you squatted down to ella’s eye level. she was dozing off in the car seat and you were already not looking forward to the tantrum she’d throw as you tried to get her out and into pajamas. a tired baby barzy was a cranky baby barzy.

just as expected, she started crying and rubbing her eyes when you picked her up. she cried even as you changed her diaper and into her pajamas. she cried through chicka chicka boom boom and the little blue truck which she usually loved. she cried up until the moment you put her in her sleep sack and into her crib.

once she was down, you came back into the living room and started cleaning up to the sound of mat’s game on the television. you still weren't an expert on hockey, but you did at least try to understand what was going on. the important thing was that the isles were winning by a goal.

mat didn't get home until closer to midnight. you were still up, watching carpet cleaning videos on your phone. maybe you should've done something more productive, like cracking open one of the fifty books stacked in piles in your room, but after all the screaming from ella, you just wanted to see a dirty carpet turn white.

“you're still up?” he asked, a slight note of surprise in his voice as he walked through the door.

you shrugged. “was waiting for my hockey debrief.” you watched as he sat his hockey back next to the door and ran a hand down his face. “congrats on the win, by the way.”

he crossed the room and plopped down on the sofa next to you and groaned. “i can’t even think about winning when my body hurts.”

“that’s what happens when you can't stay on your feet for more than half a shift.”

he chuckled a little. “not you too, i get enough shit from the guys.”

“if you want it to stop, you should stop falling down.”

abruptly, mat turned to you. “can you even skate?”

“no, but you can. you even get paid to do so. which is why it’s so surprising that you can’t stay on your feet.” he rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. “what?” you smiled back. “what is it?”

“nothing,” he said. “i’m just glad we’re cool again.”

day eighty-nine

you felt like a zombie, simply put. ella was eleven months old and shouldn't be going through a sleep regression, yet she was up on and off all night. you knew that it was because she’d learned a new skill, one you couldn't wait to show mat when he got home.

part of you was nervous that he would be upset that he wasn't there for it. last roadie, he came home to ella cruising along furniture and taking steps while she pushed her walker or held your hands.

it took him two days to come to terms with it.

so you sat on the couch and watched ella play in the ball pit playpen with her stuffed hippo. any other time, you might have cleaned up after her, picking up the balls she’d thrown out (because that was yet another thing she’d learned how to do), but you were doing your best to keep your eyes open.

it was the rattling of the doorknob that had you and ella perking up and looking towards the doorway. you could hear fumbling and what you assumed was mat’s hockey bag dropping to the ground.

despite that, it was still a moment or two before you saw mat walk into the living room with a....iced latte in hand?

you furrowed your brows. “what—”

“dada!” ella screamed, flapping her arm that wasn't holding her hippo, doing her best to scramble to her feet without letting go of her stuffie.

mat nearly dropped everything in his hands, including the coffee, which you were still hung up on, because he drank black coffee, not whatever light colored drink that was in his left hand.

“did she—?” he looked to you, hazel eyes wide as the sun. “did she say—”

“dada dada dada dada,” ella kept babbling, her voice only getting happier the closer he came to her.

“hey sweet girl,” he cooed, bending down and scooping her up with one arm. his voice sounded thick, and when you glanced at his face, his eyes looked a little shiny. “i missed you. did you keep mama bear up all night?”

“how did you know—”

“you replied to my text at 2am. you're usually asleep before midnight.” he said it so casually that you almost didn't clock the deeper meaning behind his words. he didn't even look at you, his gaze solely focused on his daughter. “how long has she been saying dada?” he asked.

you smiled. “yesterday, i got it on video. she likes to watch interviews of you sometimes and when i turned an older one on, she said it. i meant to send it to you after it happened, but i figured you'd wanna hear it in person, and if she didn't say it when you walked in, i’d show you the video later.”

“this was much better, thank you,” he said, finally looking you in the eye. then, like a lightbulb went off over his head, he reached his hand out with the iced coffee. “this is for you, figured you'd want coffee after staying up all night.”

you thanked him and hesitantly, took a sip. pleasantly surprised was a phrase you weren't used to using, especially when it came to your coffee order. there were seldom people in your life who could remember how much sugar, cream, and syrup that you liked in your coffee.

jason never remembered, said it was too complicated.

so when you took a sip and it was the exact flavor profile you'd grown accustomed to, you almost started crying.

“did i get it right?” he asked. “i wrote it down in my phone from a month ago just in case. if it’s wrong, ella and i can go grab another one—”

but your smile cut off any rambling left. “it’s perfect. how was your roadie?”

day ninety-two

mat was gracious enough to lend you his car for the day. he didn't have a game, just a morning skate which meant you didn't have to uber to storytime at the library.

it did mean, however, that you had to go pick him up because tito was busy after practice.

you were anxious initially because you had no idea how you'd get into the practice facility, and you weren’t keen on keeping the car running in this economy. thankfully, right as you were walking towards the building, dobson was walking out. he smiled and said a quiet good morning while he held the door for you and ella.

“barzy’s still on the ice,” he said. “should be finishing up any minute.”

“still? is it a punishment?”

dobson shrugged. “i think he's just trying to tighten up his shot.” he cleared his throat. “do you know how to get to the rink?”

you shrugged. “i'm sure i can figure it out.”

which you did, it was pretty self explanatory, though the signage definitely helped. you walked out to the rink and couldn't help the smile on your face when you saw mat zooming around at a ridiculous speed. mesmerized was the only word you could think to use to describe both you and ella. both your heads followed him around the rink.

which meant you had the perfect view of mat absolutely eating it and slamming into the boards behind the goal.

the laugh that burst from your mouth caught you off guard. given how mat flinched, you would say it caught him off guard too.

but you couldn't help it, the sight of him flailing and slamming into the boards had tears forming in your eyes from the sheer force of your laughter.

“oh my god,” you huffed out between laughs. “you're a professional!” you didn't need to say anymore, he knew what you were implying.

mat stuttered out your name. “y—you’re here?”

“i told you i’d pick you up, mat,” you got out through giggles. you walked closer to the ice, stopping at the gate. he hadn't gotten up off the ice, his legs were spread as he sat there. you couldn't place why, but it was still insanely funny to you. as you kept laughing, ella started too, letting out a loud baby cackle that echoed across the ice.

that seemed to kick mat into gear because he stood up and skated towards the two of you, a dopey smile on his face. you moved ella off your hip and in front of your body, holding her back against your chest so she could fully face mat.

“hey ella bean,” he smiled. he tossed his stick over the boards by the bench and reached for her.

“dada dada dada—” as she kept giggling and babbling, you watched as the smile on mat’s face got wider and wider.

you felt your heart lurch into your throat as mat took her out on the ice and started skating. “are you sure that’s safe?” you called out.

mat’s scoff echoed throughout the rink. “i’m a professional.”

“a professional at ending up on your ass.”

while supporting ella with one arm, mat flipped you off with the other hand as he skated around at a moderate pace. something between a scoff and a laugh burst from your mouth like the fireworks in that one katy perry music video.

mat’s head snapped to look at you, an expression on his face that you couldn't place, you'd never seen it before. he skated back to you, with ella still giggling.

“what?” you asked. “why're you looking at me like that?”

he shrugged. “i just like your laugh, is all. you should do it more.”

feeling shy, you looked down at your nails, you really needed to get a manicure done. “haven’t had much to laugh about lately.” the anxiety you had earlier didn't miraculously disappear after your conversation with beau, but up until this moment, you hadn't realized how quiet your mind had been.

a few weeks ago, it was consumed with jason’s words.

now you couldn't stop thinking about mat.

“well, i’ll gladly bust my ass over and over if you keep laughing like that.”

you couldn't help yourself, another laugh forced its way out of your mouth as you looked at him.

day one hundred and one

deep down in your bones, you could feel the exhaustion from yesterday seeping into today. it was a good exhaustion, though. one caused by brunch with grace, sydney, and alexa, a playdate with sofia and romanov’s daughter, deep cleaning the apartment while ella napped, and a nice walk in the park before mat’s game. 

he got home last night after a short roadie. it was a successful trip, with them winning more than they lost. you knew ella would be happy to see him when he woke up, all she talked about was “dada,” though that just might be the excitement of saying her favorite and only word.

for now, though, it was just you and ella sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. well, you were eating your cereal, she was spreading avocado around on her high chair. still, she was eating her scrambled eggs, so you couldn't really complain.

the two of you had moved into the living room with ella playing with her hippo and building blocks while you watched the newest episode of abbott elementary.

“is this a new one?” you jumped at the sound of mat’s morning voice and ignored the sensation in your stomach when you saw him rubbing at his eyes, bed head and all. 

“huh?”

mat opened his mouth, but at the sound of her father’s voice, ella turned around and screamed before crawling towards him. he didn't even hesitate to scoop her up and keep her cradled between his left arm and his chest.

“i said,” he started. “is this a new episode? i haven't seen this one yet.”

you blinked. “aren't they all new episodes to you?”

“what do you mean?”

did he hit his head or something? “mat, i've never seen you watch a single episode of anything that wasn't hockey highlights or espn...”

he shrugged. “that's because you're not with me on my roadies.”

it was your turn to ask, “what do you mean?”

mat rounded the couch and plopped down next to you, close enough to not be awkwardly apart but far enough that his leg wasn't touching yours, regardless of how much you wanted him to. “i started watching abbott on the road.”

“why would you do that?”

the tips of his ears turned pink. maybe it was warm in the apartment because the idea that you could cause him to blush wasn't something you were able to comprehend at eight in the morning. “you said you loved the show, i wanted to see what the hype was about.”

“you watched it because i told you about it?” it didn't make sense, no one had ever taken your recommendations seriously enough.

he wouldn't make eye contact with you. “beau kept falling asleep and i was tired of watching film and it popped up and you thought it was good so...”

you smiled to ease the anxiety on his face. “how far did you get?”

“i’m all caught up, except for this episode. i caught up on the roadie.”

“well,” you started. “you’re more than welcome to join us. if you want breakfast, i can pause it and wait.” but you remembered he was a professional hockey player, he probably had somewhere to be. “oh wait, when do you have to be at the rink?”

he checked his phone. “it’s not for a few hours because we got in so late. i’m yours in the meantime.”

you quickly turned your attention back to the screen so he couldn't see the flush on your face.

day one hundred and nine

it was a bad brain day. you couldn't explain it. you woke up and your mood soured. ella only marginally improved it, not even her giggles and smiles, as she stood in her crib babbling as you walked towards her, could fully fix your mood.

there was no rhyme or reason for it either.

well—

that wasn’t completely true.

you'd slept like shit last night. no twenty something should still be having nightmares, god you felt embarrassed just saying the word. but your brain didn't care about shoulds, shouldn’ts, and age because you woke up pouring sweat after jason berated you for what felt like hours.

he’ll get bored of you ringing in your head like church bells on sunday.

it was made worse when, to soothe the anxiety creeping in, you stupidly got on instagram. you should've known better, never in the history of the internet has going on social media improved your mood, especially instagram.

but there you were, staring at the instagram stories of the wags of the isles. pilates, jogs, dinner parties, team events you were too shy to go to. then you went to their feeds, wag jackets and happy families and all the things you wouldn't be a part of. they were rich, had a cool job, a happy nuclear family. and you were what? a nanny? you were a scandal waiting to happen.

he’ll get bored of you turned into it’s just a matter of time until mat finds a replacement. then, because your mind absolutely hated you, it would seem, mat’s own words echoed back to you.

and you knew it was out of context, he’d proven it to you over the last few weeks. but all you could hear was:

i’ll need some time to find someone else.

natalie was jason’s someone else.

who would mat’s be?

which was how you ended up crying into the pan of scrambled eggs. “sorry ella bean,” you managed to get out. “these will be mine, i’ll make you some fresh ones.” you plated the eggs and turned to set them aside on the island behind you, but you weren't expecting mat to be standing there in a white t-shirt and sweats.

no one should look that good in pajamas.

he’ll get bored of you.

“you okay?” and before you could even reply, mat was moving closer. “are you crying? what happened?”

you shook your head. “nothing.”

“it’s not nothing if you're crying into breakfast food.” he was right in front of you now. “c'mon, mama, you can talk to me.”

and you weren't sure why that one word did you in. “that’s not my name,” you huffed out.

“huh?” mat stepped closer and placed his large hands on your arms. “what’re you talking about—”

you stepped back into the counter, trying to get out of his hold. “‘mama’ isn’t my name. i’m not ella’s mom. i’m no one’s mom.”

his brows pulled together, his lips turned down into a frown. “i wasn’t asking you to be her mom, if you want me to find—”

“someone else, right?” you said. “you're just waiting to find someone else? everyone always is.” and it just burst from you. like it had been bubbling for twenty something years and this was the release. “i'm never enough for anyone. was i just a placeholder until she got a real mom? i can be a nanny but nothing more, right?”

“whoa, where is this coming from?” mat cut in, immediately breaking up whatever tirade you were going on. “who’s telling you these things?”

you wanted to scream. “you are! you told me you'd find someone else—”

“—if you didn't want to do this anymore! you weren't talking to me, and didn't seem very interested in doing this,” he gestured to himself and ella, “—at all.” he sighed, like he was calming himself. “i thought we were doing better these last few weeks. what changed?”

you shook your head. “just had a bad night.”

“please,” he begged. “please just tell me the truth.” another moment passed and you didn't say a word, you wouldn't even look at him. “was it jason?” you shifted on your feet. “what did he say?”

for a moment, you thought about shrugging it off, changing the subject. but you were so tired of bottling up all the negative thoughts, the buzzing bees in your head, you just let it all out. “he said you'd get bored of me,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that you were so upset about it. “that i was just a nanny and once you realized you couldn't fuck me, you'd fire me and kick me out.”

you looked up just in time to see mat’s jaw clench. he opened his mouth to say something but shut it just as quickly. ella squawked from her seat so you quickly grabbed her out of her high chair and started bouncing her. she was probably hungry, but she seemed content just being in your arms.

“you know that's not true, right?” he said after a moment, his voice tight.

“i know i should believe you but the buzzing bees in my head, they...” you didn't finish.

“they what?”

“i’m not like them, mat. i don't have what they have.”

“who? you're not like who?”

“the other wags. you're gonna want someone who goes to games and has a car and can function in life without overthinking every little thing and...” 

he was shaking his head, his hazel eyes searching yours, like he was looking for the words to say, but couldn't find them. “who told you that's what i want?”

“everyone wants that, mat. i’m just—” ella started leaning and reaching for the eggs you cried into so you moved them out of reach.

after a moment of quiet, of ella just contentedly bouncing in your arms, mat spoke. “i didn't watch abbott elementary just because you said it was good, i watched it because i wanted you to talk to me,” he said, not looking away from your face once. “i wanted us to be us again and if watching a show i wasn’t familiar with meant i could talk to you, i would do it.”

his eyes darted away for a moment, a blush covering his face. but he pushed on anyway. “it turned out to be a really funny show so it wasn't like a burden or anything but i would’ve watched it even if it was garbage because it was something that you liked.”

“mat—”

“no, please let me finish.” he took in a deep breath and looked you dead in the eye. “i would've watched the scott’s tots episode of the office on repeat if you told me that's what you wanted to do.”

mat took a step closer to you, just a foot between you now. “beau said you didn’t believe that i could want you, sydney said it was because of something your piece of shit ex said. so i’ve spent the last few weeks trying to prove to you that i love you, that i love you right now, just like this. even with the million buzzing bees in your head telling you i can’t, i’m telling you i can and i do.”

the buzzing in your head stopped. you couldn't hear anything but—

i love you right now, just like this.

“there is no ‘someone else.’ there’s no one else i could want because you're here.”

“you're not gonna get bored of me?” you asked, kinda hating how weak your voice sounded, but not enough to be embarrassed about it. not when mat was standing so close to you, not when he was saying the things he was saying.

he smiled and shook his head. “i'm not gonna get bored of you.”

“even if i feel like a thursday in october?”

he blinked. “i don't know what that means, but yeah. even if you feel like a thursday in october.”

there was a part of you who wanted to believe him, who wanted to kiss him, but you still hesitated.

you hesitated until you thought about how mat called you every night on his first roadie away from ella, how he admitted that he missed her and kept waking up in the middle of the night expecting her to be down the hall, but how he felt safe knowing that she was with you. you thought about how he waited for you to call when you got into your apartment and immediately helped you move out when you found jason and natalie in bed together. you thought about how his family loved you, gave you christmas presents. you thought about the kiss, you thought about how he called matt when you left the apartment, how he asked if you had a jacket, how you were getting to the airport.

you hesitated until you realized he stole all the oxygen from your lungs. how you knew nothing about hockey prior to him and now it felt like your entire life. you thought about the family skate he'd invited you to in a month and how you dreamt of holding his hand in front of everyone. you thought about how nice it would be to wear his name on your back and know that he was yours at the end of the night.

you hesitated until you knew all the girls from his past, all the boys from yours, had led you both to this moment, standing in his kitchen in your pajamas with his child in your arms while he bared his heart to you.

“you promise just as i am right now?”

he nodded. “i promise, baby, i love you yesterday, right now, and tomorrow.”

you smiled, your heart racing, but your mind was quiet, quiet except for four words. “i love you, mat.”

“oh thank god,” he muttered before placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling your lips to his. he kissed you first, but you chased his lips when he tried to pull away.

it was only the need for air and ella’s screaming that pulled you two away from each other. “are you hungry, baby?” you asked.

“did mama not feed you fast enough?” mat teased, grabbing her from you and tossing her in the air a few times to get her laughing.

“mat,” you groaned.

“it’s okay though,” he said looking you dead in the eye, the widest smile you'd seen on his face. ella looked at you too, both of their faces scrunched up in that way you loved. “we love you anyway.”

mat barzal. nearly everyone in new york was obsessed with him, you knew him by the way he kissed you in the morning, when he got home from practice, before you went to bed. you knew him as the man who scooped his daughter up and tickled her just to hear her laugh. you knew him by the strong arms that would wrap around your waist.

you knew him by the way he loved you.

one hundred and nine days later, you loved him.

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter four. doors and burgers

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pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 2.2k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, panic attack, boobies lol, Scarlett should be her own warning, daddy issues,

authors note ⇢ sorry that i messed up on my last post yall!! i confused scarlett with heather. she was supposed to be Heather but i was like….. heathers get too much crap thank you conan 😒 and i forgot to change it lol sorry!!! also i rewrote this like five times and i this was the one i was most satisfied with, so enjoy!!

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Scarlett leaves from what you can tell. People are talking about the kitchen debacle and there are mixed reviews. Some are still kissing Scarlett’s ass, others don’t like her any longer. But it doesn’t seem anyone’s on your side. You’re still invisible. You’ve since taken off your jacket that was drenched and Rafe has given you his. It’s big but it doesn’t cover you entirely, and that makes you feel so damn embarrassed.

Despite your mission being to get Jonah to see you, neither of you can find him anywhere. Kiara and Sarah had their eyes out for him as well but they’ve since lost the mission at hand. Now, you’re all sat in the living room where there are a few people dancing around Sarah who’s singing obnoxiously bad on the karaoke machine. No one has any idea where it came from but everyone is loving it.

You’re clapping along with Kiara, laughing when Sarah messes up another lyric and blames the song. For the first time in what seems like a long time, Rafe isn’t drinking. He isn’t doing much of anything but staying by your side. He’s sitting beside you, watching his sister with amusement. He refuses to clap though, only doing it when you reach over to lift his hands and make him clap.

It’s Kiara’s turn to sing when you get up off the couch and look for the bathroom in the huge figure 8 house. The home has photographs scattered, a happy family shown in them all. It might just be the beer in you that makes you want to cry. You’ve seen the kid around school before and he isn’t anything to you. Anything at all. But you’re wishing him the best. Yeah, you realize it’s the beer.

You stumble into a random room and let out a screech when a body gets up from a bed.

“What are you doing here?” Jonah’s voice sends a flutter through your belly. Your belly. Your stomach. You take a hold of Rafe’s jacket and tighten it around yourself, hiding your body from the guy you want badly.

“Oh… uhm…” you wipe the tears from your eyes that had bled out at the family pictures. “I’m looking for the bathroom.”

He’s immediately up on his feet at the sight of your tears. Your eyes widen when his hands take a hold of your round face and examines you carefully. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Your breath hitches at the feel of his warm hand. It’s soft. Far too soft for a man who puts his all into the gym and football. “Oh? I… uhm… haha, what? Yeah? I'm… I’m fine. Just…” you sniffle and gently move his hand from your face. You’re refusing to meet his eyes,shy about your sadness. “The pictures… they look so happy.”

The look on his face makes you want to run away. And then, he laughs. “You’re crying because Tommy and his family look happy?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, stuck. “It’s not a bad thing.” Are his words when he seems to realize how stunned you feel. “It’s… adorable.”

You fumble your words, “oh, I, uhm, yeah, okay, that’s… yeah.” To have the guy you’ve been into for years call you such a word is a rush. A scary one. But you like it. And whatever it is you did, you wish you could keep doing it until he saw you as you saw him. Perfect.

You’re still standing by the door of the random bedroom and it’d be easy to just run off. But you can’t. Making a fool of yourself in front of Jonah will only make your plan harder. And Rafe would kill you for letting his effort go to waste. “What are you doing in here?” It comes out more abrasive than you wished, internally scolding yourself.

But he doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, he takes his seat back on the bed and shrugs. “It’s noisy.”

You understand. You really, really do. And you want to say it aloud but your tongue is tied as you watch him throw his head back, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows gently. After a moment, you semi-gather yourself. “Did you leave cause of Sarah?” You joke lightly. “That’s what made me leave.”

This garners a soft laugh out of him and you want to jump up and squeal. But Rafe told you to act nonchalant. “Yeah, she’s certainly… singing.”

You take one step away from the door. Just one. You were going to sit beside him. You were going to talk to him. Really talk to him.

The door behind you swings open and hits your head. Hard. “What the fuck?” Jonah’s quick on his feet, rushing to you in a panic. You turn to look at the culprit and your frown turns into a glare. Rafe.

“What the fuck, Rafe?!” You hiss, sending a punch to his shoulder.

“Why were you standing so near the door?!”

“Why would you swing it open like a maniac?!”

“It’s not my fault you were standing there—“

“Maybe don’t open doors like that—“

“Oh, shut up, do you ever not complain—“

“Says you! You’re, like, the king of complaining—“

“King? King—“

“Should I leave?” Jonah’s soft voice speaks and you shove Rafe’s face as you look at him and smile.

“N-no, you shouldn’t have to. He was just leaving.”

“I was? I don’t— ow, fuck, okay, I’m leaving.”

The mood was ruined. Whatever mood Jonah was in was gone. And so was your confidence. It's awkward as you sit next to him on the bed. The palm of your hands are on your knees, anxiously rubbing at them. He’s laid back on the bed, arm crossed over his eyes, the only thing telling you he’s up is the soft twitch of his fingers.

“Does it hurt?” His voice cuts through the thick silence.

Panicked, you glance over at him with wide eyes. “Does… does what hurt?”

“Your head. He opened the door pretty hard.” He still doesn’t move from his position and you’re grateful he’s not looking at you. You do better when people can’t perceive you.

“Oh, my head… yeah, it’s fine, doesn’t hurt. I-it’s a little sore but I’ll make him pay for it.” You shrug, fixing Rafe’s jacket on your body.

“You two are close.” It’s supposed to be a question. It doesn’t sound like one.

You shake your head despite his eyes being covered up. “Not really. I… he’s nice but we’re not like friends.”

He sits back up and this makes you tense up, looking straight ahead at that damn door you hate now. “Just never seen him with anyone but his same three friends.”

“I’m friends with Sarah. We’re just… around each other more.” It’s a lie. But you don’t believe Rafe would want people to know just how much time you’re really spending together. The less people that know, the better.

“You and Scarlett are really done?” He questions, eyes on you. But you can’t look over at him. You’re stiff and awkward and unsure of how to act around him.

You nod softly, “y-yeah… she’s, uhm, not a very nice person.”

It’s quiet for another moment. “She’s been running her mouth about you. Calling you names. Really bad names. And all you can say is ‘she's not nice’?”

Hearing that she’s still talking about you is a punch to the guy and suddenly you don’t care about your crush. You don’t care that you two are sitting so close to each other. All you can think is how horrible she truly is. How blinded you were. And how stupid you feel for missing her. “Well… just because others are doing bad things, doesn’t mean I should. Be the bigger person and whatnot.” You let out a small and awkward laugh to try and shrug off what you’re really feeling.

“Wow.” Are his words as he gets up off the bed and walks to the dresser of the bedroom and picking up a magazine. “You’re really not like other girls.” An even bigger punch to the gut. Logically, you know he’s trying to be kind. He’s only saying this to make you feel better, your feelings on Scarlett written all over your face.

You don’t wear makeup, not like other girls do. You don’t dress up, not like other girls do. You don’t giggle over guys, not like other girls do. You don’t go out and have fun, not like other girls do. But you want to do it all. You want to be like other girls. You never felt worth it. Lipstick on a pig. You’re too big to fit trendy clothes. You don’t giggle over guys because they’d be disgusted that you’re into them. You don’t go out because you’d be the biggest out of the group of girls that are around you. You’d be an eyesore.

In a frantic move, you get up off the bed. “Right. Well, I, uh… I have to go.”

“Huh? What—“ but you don’t pay any attention to his words as you rush out of the random bedroom. There are kids littering the hallway. The steps are being used as seats, shoving people slightly as you go. The music is loud. Too loud. You can feel it bouncing in your eardrums and filling your already muddled thoughts. Theres nothing you can think about other than getting out of that damn house. And in your panicked stupor, you can’t find the damn. The house is too damn big.

There’s a couple making out in the bathroom when you rush inside and when they see the fear in your eyes, they rush out, leaving you to be.

The drive isn’t awkward. Not like you thought it would be. He didn’t question you. And despite his last text, he didn’t bring it up. And you’re grateful he didn’t.

“Where are we going?” You ask when you realize you’re headed downtown. “I want to go home, Rafe.”

He shrugs, hands on the wheel. “I’m hungry. We’re just stopping by The Wreck real quick.”

He doesn’t ask you to get down with him. He parks, heads inside, and he’s out fifteen minutes later. But he doesn’t start driving. In fact, he immediately takes a bite out of his burger, your food untouched on your lap.

“You’re not gonna eat?” He asks with his mouth full, but you don’t grimace like you should. You grab a napkin and hands it to him but he shakes his head refusing it.

“You’re dirty.”

“And you’re not eating.” He swallows his food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re lying.”

“So because I'm fat, I must be hungry?” It’s a joke but the look he gives you tells you he’s not amused in the slightest. “Tough crowd. Seriously, I'm not hungry.”

“Is this that thing where you don’t eat in front of people cause you’re with a guy? Sarah told me it’s some shit she does.”

“It’s that thing where I’m not hungry, actually.” But it smells divine. Usually, you’d happily eat this but after tonight, you’re not sure if you’ll ever eat greasy foods again.

He scoffs, putting his burger down and holding a fry up at you. “Try the fry.”

“You try the fry.”

“I already did. Seriously, my mom had this trick while we were growing up. Sarah always swore she wasn’t hungry and wouldn’t get anything to eat but she’d make her try something from the plate to realize how hungry she really was.”

“How old was she?”

“My mom? She was pushing forty.”

You glare at the proud look on his face at his joke. “Sarah, stupid.”

“I don’t know… seven?”

“You’re treating me like a seven year old?”

“Try. The. Fry.” He swipes it across your lips and this gets a laugh out of you, shoving him away.

“Okay, okay! I’ll eat a fry. But that one has lipstick all over it now.” You pick a fry from his and he squints his eyes at you.

“You have a perfectly good batch.”

You pop the fry into your mouth with a content smile. “Not as good as yours.” And he was right. The salt and buttery soft fry proved to be true— you are hungry.

With a sigh, you grab your burger and say— “okay… just… don’t look.”

This amuses him. “Don’t look at you eat your burger? Well, there goes my spank bank.”

“Ew, Rafe!” You laugh, nose scrunching at his crude words.

You take a bite of your burger. And it’s absolutely delicious. Just like you knew it would be. Instead of worrying over stuffed up cheeks or looking fat while eating, you share laughs, mouths full and not a single care.

taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 @acidfeens @congratsloserr @murdockcastleslut @cl4uus @clairesblouse @ange111 @daddydraco @wtfdudesblog @honk4emoboyz @fionaapplelover2010 @raiemarine @totonella1 @lilmixed-girl @enjoymyloves @darlingisntit @c1gsaftewhat @lil-sparklqueen @bambisribbon @easybakeoven7 @vviolets444rroses @aesthetic-lyss @dr3wstarkey @sleepmaster69 @yose2123 @aligned-starz @vex-et-soleil (if your name is red, it’s not letting me tag you for some reason, sorry!)

[sunrizef1]

What happens in Vegas pt 12

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader

Warnings: Cursing, briefly mentioned puke (referenced), panic attacks (referenced), the NFL

Authors note: wanted to get this out before the race tomorrow, I actually quite like this chapter

Masterlist

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MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Austin, TX

liked by logansargeant charles_leclerc16 and 2,309,099 others

yourusername happy to be back in Austin, ready to recharge 🔋

Tagged: logansargeant, l/nranch

load comments…

user1 the speed with which she left china is honestly so funny

user2 the race was two days ago why’s she already in America 😭

user3 why’s she at a farm???

user4 her grandpas family got rich by owning a really successful agricultural company so both her grandparents decided to buy a ranch outside of Austin, which is where y/n grew up

user5 her dad being English always throws me off when I think about her family tbh

user6 her grandpa went to a race once and made the joke that the Americanism skipped a generation lol

user7 wait I’m new to y/n, how’s her dad English but the rest of her family’s American?

user8 her grandparents were based in England when he was born but they ended up really busy so they sent him to a boarding school from the time he was really young, hence the accent

user9 they’re so confusing 😭

user10 my favorite cowgirl

user11 she couldn’t wait till cota to go home???

logansargeant your grandma likes me more than you

yourusername no she doesn’t

user12 I didn’t know Logan went with her

user13 where’s Charles???

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Las Vegas, NV

liked by killatrav taylorswift13 and 3,980,756 others

yourusername had a great time at the @/patrickmahomes charity golf gala this weekend! Grateful for the opportunity to show all these boys how it’s done out on the green and support charity at the same time! ⛳️

Might have to get you a different hat though 😉 @/killatrav

Tagged: logansargeant, killatrav, patrickmahomes

load comments…

user14 are those Porsche golf balls!?!?

user15 THEY EAT SO HARD

logansargeant I 100% beat you

yourusername I was 5 under par. You were 5 over. You lost.

logansargeant ☹️

user16 what a crossover

killatrav don’t hate the player, hate the game 🤷‍♂️

yourusername i dont hate the game, I just hate alpine

pierregasly ???

yourusername see you next week, Frenchie

user17 her and Pierres fake beef is genuinely so funny to me

user18 where's Charlesssss

user19 he liked the post, at least

user20 omg they're in Vegas! Remember what happened last time they were in Vegas…

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Bellagio Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas

liked by charles_leclerc16 donnakelce and 6,989,870 others

yourusername Last night out in Vegas 😵‍💫

I'm, once again, honored to have been invited to the 15 and the Mahomies Charity Gala! Got to auction off a few paddock passes and also got to spend a great night out with friends!

Thanks so much Vegas, you were a lot better this time than you were last time.

Tagged: logansargeant, taylorswift13, killatrav, patrickmahomes, charles_leclerc16

load comments…

user21 CHARLES CONTENT?!?!

user22 she seems happier than she has before

user23 Logan and Taylor swift in the same room is not something I’d ever expect tbh

patrickmahomes thanks for coming! ❤️💛

yourusername thanks for inviting us! ❤️🖤

user24 this is just so American

taylorswift13 🫶

yourusername 🫶

user25 more Logan content this week than Williams gives in a month

user26 they’ve been to like three different states already lmao

user27 I need the home field advantage from Miami for these two this weekend

logansargeant I’m so tired

yourusername at least it was fun 🤷‍♀️

logansargeant lol, it definitely was

user28 the first pic is so sibling coded

user29 “Mon ange” CHARLESSS 🥹

user30 the fact he’s tagged on the messages 😭

user31 THE LAST LINE ABOUT VEGAS?!?! IM SCREAMING!!!

TWITTER

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TWITTER

MESSAGES

TWITTER

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TWITTER

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TWITTER

MESSAGES

[ganjas-shit]

Oh, You’re Breaking My Heart

Summary: You get to the bottom of Billy’s feelings but will it be too late?

Pairings: Billy x reader, slight Steve x reader (nothing too crazy)

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexual intercourse, cursing, abuse, blood, harsh language, Neil Hargrove, angst, mention of drugs, mental illness, panic attack.

Authors note: So, turns out I will be turning this into a series but STILL don’t know how long yet! I hope you guys enjoy I’ve been working on this all day. Message me or comment if you’d like to be apart of the tag list! Thank you for your support <3

Chapter Two: You’re gonna be okay.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

The morning air was crisp and refreshing, like sipping cool water. It felt invigorating against your skin, awakening your senses to the day ahead.

You took one more deep breath, enjoying the cool air in your lungs and closed the door behind you, locking it with your house key, and made your way towards the front of your house waiting for Steve’s arrival.

You close your eyes before slapping a hand over your forehead. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, realizing you forgot to call him this morning. With his habit of sleeping in, you’d likely be late for the billionth time only this time you didn’t find it in you to care, the excitement from last nights events still lingered in your belly.

Billy showed a different side of himself, setting aside his usual arrogance and charm. This unexpected change only fueled your excitement, leaving you eager to learn more about him.

The sound of Billy and Max bickering snapped you out of your thoughts. Though you couldn’t discern their exact exchange, it was evident Billy had the upper hand as Max slammed the passenger door of his car. “Watch it, shitbird, or you’ll be walking to school!” Billy’s voice echoed with attitude and irritation. Neil’s sudden appearance brought a stern reminder for Billy to mind his words when speaking to his sister

As he was about to get into his car, your eyes met his ocean-blue ones, but they held anger towards you, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You immediately shook it off, offering him a wave and your bright, sweet smile. He maintained eye contact for a moment but disregarded your greeting, hopping into the driver’s seat of his blue Camaro.

You stood there, dumbfounded, watching him speed off, cringing at the loud sound of his departure. Did you do something? You thought to yourself.

You found the interaction between him and his father last night rather odd. His father’s presence was intimidating and uncomfortable, yet Billy left with a small smile directed towards you. It seemed like he was grateful for your conversation, so you couldn’t understand what could’ve happened.

Steve arrived momentarily, surprisingly on time, his burgundy bmw stopping right in front of you house. You climbed into the passenger side, a mixture of frustration and disappointment bubbling within you. With a heavy hand and a distracted mind, you slammed the passenger door of Steve’s car.

“Hey, easy!” He yelled, his tone irritated at your lack of consideration for his precious baby, bringing you back to the present moment. “Sorry,” you mumbled, shifting your belongings to the front of your legs and fastening your seatbelt.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve huffed. “Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” He glanced towards the driver’s window, checking for any incoming cars or pedestrians.

“Billy Hargrove,” you muttered grumpily, turning your gaze out the window as the trees and houses began to blur with the increasing speed of Steve’s car.

Steve looked over at you, his grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white in the process. “Yeah, well, at least you’re not being benched today because of him,” Steve said, his tone tinged with anger at the fact that Billy clearly upset you and at the realization that he’s not starting or playing the opening game today.

You remained quiet still distracted by your thoughts.

“What happened?” Steve asked, glancing over towards you. You straightened up and began explaining what had occurred the night before.

You started to explain the night in vivid detail to Steve, although he wished you wouldn’t have because he already didn’t like the idea of you and Hargrove together, and hearing the details made him inwardly vomit.

The car came to a halt when you had arrived at school. Steve parked and took the key out of the ignition, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Billy’s always kind of had a weird temper, y/n," Steve spoke carefully. He wasn’t being judgmental; he's just been a firsthand witness to it. "Him and I have roughed each other up a couple of times," he admitted.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You guys fought?! MORE THAN ONCE? ” You felt a surge of anger; Steve had lied to you. “So that one day after school, when you had a bruised eye, it wasn’t from bumping into a locker, it was from Billy?!” You mimicked Steve’s stupid voice, scolding him.

Steve rolled his eyes at your reaction, his head hitting the back of his headrest. It was the very reason he didn’t want to tell you, because he knew you’d freak out like this. “Can you let me finish?” he asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

You waved your hands at him, signaling for him to continue.

“It was after practice one day, Neil, his dad had come to watch our scrimmage game,” Steve spoke.

Steve never forgot that day. Neil Hargrove looked like the biggest dick of a father anyone could have, and the way he spoke to Billy that day confirmed it.

"Billy, stop being a fucking pussy and get on defense!" Neil screamed, as if he were the assistant coach or something. Steve knew Billy could play defense; hell, he was the one who taught him to plant his feet properly.

Steve had the ball, with Billy defending closely. As Steve dribbled, scanning for an opening, he noticed Billy's distant and uneasy expression; it wasn’t filled with arrogance and a cocky smile like it usually was. "Hey man, you alright?" Steve asked, still dribbling. Billy's response was a glare of rage, yet he seized the opportunity. With a swift move, he snatched the ball from Steve's hand, pushing past him, sending Steve on his ass. Smoothly dribbling past him, Billy scored.

When Billy scored, he yelled and smiled as he usually did, then looked to the sidelines where his father stood, seeking some sort of approval or applause from him. However, he received nothing. Neil walked out, acknowledging nothing and Billy’s smile faltered immediately.

Coach Williams called an end to practice, and everyone left for the locker rooms to shower. Steve stayed for a couple more minutes to stretch his legs. As he walked out, he heard some yelling. Curious, he peeked over the wall to his right and saw Neil and Billy. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he did see Neil push Billy into the wall. Although he wasn’t close enough to hear the exchange, Billy looked frightened, and Neil appeared angry at God knows what. Steve witnessed Neil slap Billy once in the face, causing even him to flinch. With that, Neil left, leaving Billy there. Billy’s head hung low as he looked at his shoes and wiped his eyes.

Steve didn’t know what to do but he did what felt right. Again he asked like a broken record. “You alright?”

Billy flinched at the sound of Steve’s voice. “What did you see?” Billy spat with rage. Steve was confused and even hurt by his response. He was just asking if he was okay? Jesus Christ, was this kid always angry and defensive? Steve thought.

Steve decided Billy was a lost cause. He rolled his eyes, turned his back on him, and decided to just leave.

"Are you deaf?" Billy spat, his voice filled with anger, as he followed behind Steve and forcefully pushed his back, causing Steve to stumble and fall once again.

Steve's empathy ran out, replaced by anger. He got up and pushed Billy back. "Looks like you got some fire in you after all, Harrington!" he laughed manically. Steve noticed Billy's bloody nose, but it wasn't from him; it was from Neil.

Billy then charged at Steve, landing a punch on the right side of his face, and Steve retaliated almost instantly. They grappled and exchanged blows for a couple of minutes until Tommy H. and another teammate intervened to break up the fight.

You let out a deep sigh as Steve finished speaking.

Your heart broke for Billy; his father was a despicable, abusive piece of shit. You felt like an idiot for not seeing it earlier, but it still didn’t justify him taking it out on you. Did his father say something about you? You glanced sympathetically at Steve, who had tried to help and ended up with a blow to his right eye. Billy had no right, and while you don't excuse his behavior, you can't help but empathize with him.

"Just be careful with him, y/n," Steve said, his tone filled with concern. "He’s erratic and unpredictable," he added, his worry still evident.

Billy wasn’t a monster; you knew that. You also knew you could handle yourself; you didn’t need protection. After all, you had experience in this department; you dealt with a verbally abusive mother once upon a time.

You smiled at Steve. “I can handle myself. If I can handle the demogorgon, demo bats, and Vecna, I can handle Billy Hargrove,” you said, grabbing his hand that was resting on the center console and squeezing it gently. “Now let’s get to first period before clickety-clackety marks us late.” You finished letting go and opening the passenger door.

Steve did the same. “You know I hate when you and Robin call her that,” he said, now closing and locking his car. “It sounds nerdy,” he explained, speeding up to walk next to you.

Steve grabbed his hand attempting to calm the tingle he felt it in after your touch.

"Too bad," you said, playfully sticking out your tongue as you headed to class, earning you a classic Harrington eye roll. “Wait, how is that nerdy?” You chimed in again, sparking a lively banter between the two of you that continued until you reached class.

.

You got through your classes today only to be bombarded with more work.

The day you’d been dreading all week: the opening game of the season for Hawkins High.

You only ever enjoyed it when Steve played, but with him not playing tonight, the day seemed even worse. However, I suppose you could try to look on the bright side because it was Billy’s debut.

You walked around the gym, proud of yours and Billy’s work; the banners looked great. You double-checked that everyone was in their rightful place. Cheerleaders? Check. Band? Check. Student council? Check. Eddie Munson? Wait, Eddie Munson? At the Hawkins High opening game? No, it couldn’t be.

Eddie strode your way, wearing his infamous hellfire tee, paired with black ripped jeans and a silver chain that hung at the loops of them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You questioned, smiling, genuinely surprised to see Eddie Munson at the opening game.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m thinking about convincing coach Williams to let me join the basketball team,” Eddie said, mimicking shooting a basketball poorly. “Gotta work on my basketball moves,” he added, moving on to mimic dribbling, which was downright horrid.

“Clearly,” you said, laughing at his terrible performance. “Your form is so off, and you look like you have no rhythm,” you added with a chuckle.

“Oh, I have rhythm. But it’s all in the fingers, baby… And trust me, the ladies love it… both ways,” he said with a smirk, punctuating his words with a wink.

You roll your eyes. “Smooth, Casanova.”

“Why are you really here? Is it Chrissy?” you say, raising your eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner. “Or oh no, wait a minute, are you swooning over Billy Hargrove too?” you tease.

He scoffed slightly, his cheeks flushing at the mention of Chrissy’s name.

“No, but if you must know, O’Donnell said if I checked in with her after the game tonight, she’ll give me extra credit,” he explained, wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help but laugh at how much of a dork he was.

But as you conversed, you couldn't help but notice the glares directed your way, especially from Carol and her friends, who were whispering about the two of you. Admitting it was difficult, but you found yourself affected by the things people said. It stung deeply; the cruelty of others weighed heavily on you, especially considering your own past involvement in similar behavior, which made you feel like you deserved the treatment you were receiving.

You shook off the thoughts that invaded your mind and refocused your attention back to Eddie.

“Wanna sit together? I have good seats in the student council section,” you said cheesing, reaching out to poke his stomach.

"Wow, Eddie Munson getting invited to the VIP section at his first Hawkins high basketball game? Count me in," he said, falling into step behind you as you headed towards the student section.

“You are such a dork.”

You and Eddie made your way to your seats, exchanging greetings with Robin as you passed by. Shortly after, the band started playing, and the basketball team began to roll in.

The team then huddled up and Coach Williams sent in the starting lineup, you felt the anticipation building. The game was about to begin.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Billy. Ever since Steve gave you a little insight into who he was, he had been on your mind all day. Despite your best efforts, he didn’t turn his head once to look at you in class today, You had hoped to catch him after class, but that ditz Tina beat you to it. Seeing him all over her made you physically sick. It was nothing new, but today it stung a little more.

.

Billy’s facade of arrogance and confidence was beginning to crack.

He wasn’t prepared for this game, his mind consumed by the events of the previous night. His father had never offered him approval, kindness, or any form of support. But he did for you, which only fueled his bitterness toward you. Billy had dedicated himself to sports, hoping to earn his father’s affection and love. And the only commendation his father ever uttered was about you, summed up in just two words.

“Nice girl.”

Billy came to the conclusion that that’s why his father made those comments about you, realizing that Neil was drawn to submissive, weak, and timid women. It gave him a sense of control, a power trip that he relished, and it was the only valid reason.

But, he knew you weren't weak; you stood up for yourself, you were resilient, but it unsettled him. Since the age of 13, Billy had been consumed by anger after his mother left. She abandoned him, leaving him with a void. In you, he found a sense of safety similar to what he felt with his mother. He was unexplainably drawn towards you. Yet, the thought of attaching himself to you terrified him, fearing you might leave just like his mother did.

The thought of his father wanting you for him unsettled him deeply and fueled his desire to rebel. His mind was a war zone; he was caught between conflicting feelings that were tearing him apart.

He couldn’t help but think that Neil wanted him to follow in his footsteps.

Tommy nudged his shoulder snapping him back to reality, “Hey? You ready to kick some ass Hargrove,” Tommy asked excitedly.

Billy nodded, mustering up everything within him to get his mind straight, but then he saw you in the crowd next to Eddie Munson.

His heart ached a little, he felt guilty about this morning, and he started to feel jealousy course through his veins as he watched you laugh with the mop-headed boy. He kept his eyes on you for so long that he completely missed the sound of the whistle going off.

Shit.

The opposing team took had the ball in play and Billy’s mistake was seen by the entire school resulting in the opposing team making their first point.

The crowd was visibly upset with their screams and yelling and this made Billy’s adrenaline increase and his heart rate was speeding up drastically. His father wasn’t present, dinner with his coworkers was much important than his sons first game but why was he hearing him in the crowd?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BILLY? WAKE THE FUCK UP.”

“YOU ARE WEAK JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER, SHE LEFT ME WITH A GOOD FOR NOTHING SON.”

“Pussy. Get up pussy.”

“Nice girl.”

His father's words echoed in his mind, panic rising. In the midst of the play, he signaled the refs with his right hand while clutching his tightening chest with his left, the crowd's screams growing louder.

“TIMEOUT. TIMEOUT.” Coach Williams screamed and the game came to a halt. The crowds screams turned into whispers and murmurs.

“Billy what’s gotten into you boy?” Coach Williams asked, “Can you do this or do I need to pull you out?”

“I need a minute.” Billy said gripping the chest of his uniform, making his way towards the nearest exit.

“HARRINGTON GET YOUR ASS UP YOU’RE IN,”

.

Billy held his gaze on yours, and yours remained locked with his. You both were so lost in each other’s eyes that the sound of the ref’s whistle made you jump. You cringed as Billy messed up, not because you cared about basketball, but because you knew how harsh the crowd could be.

Eddie looked from Billy to you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Okay, what was that? ” Eddie spoke up, curious about the exchange of longing between you and the jock.

You sighed deeply.

“Eddie, I have a question,” you stated, your voice catching slightly. "Can I ask you about your dad?" you asked carefully, not wanting to upset Eddie or stir up painful memories.

“My dad?” Eddie questioned clearing his throat, confused at the sudden subject change, “Um yeah go head shoot,” he said as he crossed one arm over another. You looked over at Billy which didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie.

“After you got away from your dad, what was your personality like? Was it hard to trust people, let them in?” You asked refocusing your gaze to him.

Eddie briefly mentioned his dad while we were in the midst of hot-wiring his neighbor's RV a couple of months ago. And when you guys were gearing up for the upside-down, you had downtime leading to a deep talk about your parents, getting to know how bad Eddie had it growing up with his father. He was a schizophrenic, dope fiend, off his meds, obviously. His mother died of alcohol poising when he was about 7 years old, and he knew his father to be an addict his entire life, always in and out of jail, erratic, delusional, always up to trouble. His father didn’t take Eddie’s mother's death well; his mental state started to deteriorate, the drugs clashing with his illness more and more, and he started blaming Eddie for his mother's death, beginning to put his hands on him. Cigarette burns, bruises, black eyes—you name it, he had it.

CPS got involved, and his father was thrown into a psychiatric home. Eddie was alone, abused, for eight years until his uncle Wayne took him in at 15.

“Oh yeah, definitely. It took me a while to trust anyone,” he said with a dark chuckle. “My uncle Wayne was a patient man. I was rebellious, and I started to follow in my old man’s footsteps. It scared the shit out of me because I was hurting my uncle Wayne, but it was all I knew.” Eddie said, “My uncle Wayne taught me what love was, what it meant to be a true father. If I didn’t have that or some type of good in my life, I would’ve been screwed,” he reflected eternally grateful his uncle saved him.

You pulled Eddie in for a hug, grateful that he had shared with you, and he returned the gesture. After letting go, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity as you connected the dots.

“Billy’s in the same boat,” you admitted, “but he’s not letting me in,”

Eddie let out a sigh, looking at you sympathetically.

“You’re still a kid, y/n, and you’re not responsible for him. It took my uncle Wayne a while to snap me out of it. It wasn’t easy,” he said, looking over at you with genuine concern.

“Eddie, I’m far from a kid. I practically raised myself since my mom left. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to,” you said, slightly irritated at his reaction. Eddie regretted his choice of words, but he still meant them. You weren’t responsible. “He needs people like us around him. He’s not a bad person; he just doesn’t know any better, just like you at one point.” You said, your words making Eddie feel sympathy for Billy Hargrove.

.

The ref’s whistle blew, signaling the game was about to begin once again, and to everyone’s surprise, Steve was in?

“Holy shit! Yeah, Steve!” You exclaimed, leaping up from your seat in excitement. “Look, Eddie, Steve’s in!” With a playful slap on his chest, you urged Eddie to stand and join in applauding Steve’s entrance onto the court.

Eddie rolled his eyes and threw Steve a thumbs up filled with fake enthusiasm. You slapped his chest again, but this time it wasn’t playful; it actually hurt.

As the game commenced, you glanced over to the bench, Billy nowhere to be found. Concern gnawed at you, but you opted to give him his space, especially since he made it clear he didn’t want to be near you. You also needed time; you wanted to talk to him, but you didn't know how to go about it.

"I don’t understand the love for this stupid game. Don’t people know about D&D?" Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes, feeling ashamed he was even here.

“Oh, people know about it alright,” you said sarcastically, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “devil worshipper.”

Eddie dramatically gasped. "Take it back now or I’ll scream," he threatened, his voice filled with mock horror.

.

The night was an absolute blast. Steve's buzzer-beater brought the crowd to their feet, while Eddie's extra credit points from O’Donnell raised his grade to a D+. Principal Higgins even praised your role in the evening's success.

Steve confidently informed you about Billy’s failures, claiming he caught a bug that prevented him from continuing to play today. However, this seemed odd to you, considering he appeared perfectly fine this morning.

Billy was obviously lying.

You congratulated Steve as you bid him farewell, somewhat pleased to see King Steve back in action. Not wanting him to miss out on tonight's fun, you asked Eddie to give you a ride home.

The ride was nice and quiet which was much needed after todays events.

He dropped you off at home, and you made your way to your door. You jangled your keys until you found the right one and stuck it through the keyhole.

You found your way inside and you were welcomed to an empty house yet again, the same note still stuck to the fridge.

You went to your room and started to tidy it up until you heard the sound of Billy’s car pulling up, music blasting from it. He drove like such a maniac, he reminded you of Eddie.

You took a peek out your window and saw that he wasn’t alone.

Oh?

Tina was with him, and they were making out like fucking animals. This angered you beyond words. Did he have no consideration for his neighbors?

You opened your curtains aggressively, then your window which made a loud noise when it hit the top. You didn't know what came over you, but you couldn't care less.

"Hey! You two, mind shutting the fuck up?!" You yelled with all your might from your window, pulling Billy and ditzy Tina away from their heated make-out session.

"You mind fucking off?!" Billy yelled back. Your laughed bitterly which was then accompanied by a defiant middle finger thrown his way, to which he replied the same. With a frustrated sigh, you shut your window and cranked up the volume on your Walkman, drowning out the rowdiness from outside.

.

Your interruption infuriated him, rudely disrupting his moment with Tina and making things much more difficult between them.

“Billy maybe we should go somewhere else?” Tina purred, “Maybe lovers lake?” She implied, shoving her tits in his face.

"Nah, here will do. I can’t wait, doll," he said roughly, ripping the bra off her chest along with her panties. Billy’s dick was rock hard, it angered him so much, because all he could think about was you.

Tina lay sprawled out in his backseat, completely nude, and he couldn’t help but think about you, right next door, likely to hear every bit of it.

He lined his dick up at her entrance and hissed at the feeling. He closed his eyes and began to thrust mind falling back to you.

The way your nipples poked through your shirt that night, your perky tits filling his mind with so much imagination. Your flushed face and the way you clenched your thighs when he spoke to you, oh doll you don’t know what you’re missing. He was sure you hadn’t been touched properly with the way your body responded to him, hell, you probably hadn’t been touched at all.

Fuck, he thought, as he thrusted harder into the poor girl. If only she knew who he was imagining instead of her.

Her moans filled the car, echoing through the entire block. Billy was in for a treat tonight with his father.

"Oh god, Billy, right there, yes, yes!" She exclaimed with pleasure. Billy drowned out the sound of her voice and replaced it with the way you screamed at him a couple of minutes ago, you turned him on so much, especially when you were jealous.

Anger quickly consumed him again as he started to think about everything that took place yesterday, today’s game, and you. God, you were infuriating. You invaded his brain like some parasite, and he couldn’t decide whether it was a butterfly larvae destined to flutter around inside of him or a brain-eating parasitic worm who would gnaw at him for a eternity.

He fucked Tina harder, and harder feeling her clench beautifully around his cock. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his tan chest, the feeling quickly filling his body with pleasure, his movements starting to slow.

Unable to contain himself any longer, his groans grew louder.

“Ah, shit, fuck y/n,” he said with his eyes closed, tilting his head back cumming hard into the condom. As his high came down, he mentally scolded himself and closed his eyes once again, but this time in irritation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Tina screamed, pushing him off of her, “You’re fucking that freak?!” She yelled dramatically.

Billy rolled his eyes.

"Need a ride home, or are you walking?" Billy asked, his tone nonchalant as he completely disregarded her reaction, casually pulling up his pants and getting dressed.

Tina rolled her eyes back at him. “You’re fucking unbelievable, Hargrove. Take me home,” she huffed, quickly redressing herself.

Billy smiled, hopping into the front seat, and drove off.

.

Once he was done with that, he drove back home, preparing himself for what was about to happen.

"Left eye? Right eye? Nah, too noticeable. People will start asking questions. The stomach? Yeah, that's more of Neil's style," he laughed bitterly, talking to himself.

This is what he wanted. He didn’t care anymore. He always managed to piss his father off somehow, and it would never be on purpose. This was him taking his power back. He’ll give him something to be upset about, he thought, determination coursing through him.

Stepping out of the car, Billy was enveloped by the quietness of the night.

He walked up the steps of his porch and took a deep breath before opening the door. As he entered, there was Neil, seated on the couch as if he were some kind of king. Billy closed the door behind him, locking it securely.

The silence stretched on for a few tense seconds, with nobody daring to break it. Neil waited for an immediate apology, hoping to see Billy cower in fear, but as the apology failed to come forth, Neil's anger only grew more intense.

"You know, with the amount of times I've beaten you, you would think that respect is drilled into that thick fucking brain of yours," Neil spoke up, his voice laced with venom and rage.

Billy stood there unfazed by his father’s words, bored even.

"Don’t you get tired, Dad? Tired of being a shitty fucking father?" Billy spat, laughing bitterly. Neil's eyes widened, and he stood up. "When you act like a shitty parent, this is what you get—a shitty son," Billy finished, his words dripping with resentment and defiance.

Billy’s heart pumped vigorously.

“I pity you. You’re a coward,” he spat out with contempt.

Neil charged at Billy, causing him to fall onto his back, and started throwing punch after punch at his face. “Who do you think you are, huh?!” Neil stopped to grab the collar of Billy’s shirt, bringing his face up to his.

"Your son," Billy spoke, his voice wobbly, blood coming out of his nose, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He was deeply saddened by the poor excuse of a father he had.

Neil laughed dryly. “God, you’re a spitting image of her. You’re just like her too, pathetic,” he spat. “And I’m a coward? Are you forgetting that she abandoned you? She left you with me. What does that say about her?”

Billy now fueled with rage pushed Neil off of him and punched him dead in the face. All hell broke loose after that, with both men fighting seemingly to the death. Billy ended up on his back again, and this time Neil didn’t stop. Billy's vision started to blur, and the last thing he heard was Max and Susan's frantic voices as they attempted to pull Neil off of him.

.

You were drifting into a deep sleep until a loud banging on your door jolted you awake. Your eyes widened, and you got up immediately, the sound of your Walkman still playing in the background.

You ran towards the door as if it were instinct, and there stood Max. She was sobbing, tears staining her red cheeks.

“Max, what’s going on? Is he back?” you asked, reminded of what still lies beneath this town. Max shook her head vigorously.

“No, it’s Billy. Please, y/n, you need to help me and my mom get him into his car. Neil just beat the shit out of him and took off. We need to take him to the hospital!” She cried.

Without hesitation, you grabbed her hand and ran to the house next door. As you entered, you saw broken frames, beach shell decorations scattered everywhere, and broken glass littering the floor.

And there was Billy, his face bruised and gushing with blood. You wanted to sob instantly. The beautiful boy, with the most mesmerizing smile, lay unconscious on the floor, broken.

“I’ll take his arms, you two grab his legs. We need to move fast,” you said, suppressing every ounce of emotion and acting on pure instinct.

You all carefully descended down the steps, giving it everything you got, Billy wasn’t exactly light but you pushed with everything in you to get him into the back of that car. You fell into the back seat with him his head falling in your chest and Susan hopped in the drivers seat and max in the passenger seat.

You search Billy’s pockets and grab his keys, tossing them to Susan.

"Step on it, let's go! We have to hurry!" you said, your voice remaining calm but urging Susan to make haste.

Susan backed out of the driveway and stepped on the gas pedal of Billy’s car hauling ass to get to the nearest hospital.

You checked his pulse and confirming it’s still present, you notice his breathing is a bit light, sparking an overwhelming amount of anxiety within you.

You whisper softly in his ear, “You're going to be okay,” feeling tears welling up, but you quickly wipe them away, pushing your emotions down once more.

"Hey Susan, take a right here and pull into that spot," you instruct, recognizing the familiar surroundings.

You’d been here one too many times.

We pull right up to the emergency room entrance. Max rushes out, calling frantically for help. Two male nurses immediately respond, rushing out with a stretcher and opening the back seat of Billy’s car. You help him sit up slowly, and they swiftly pull him around with urgency, their movements slightly rough in their haste.

"Hey, watch it! Be careful with him!" you yell at the nurses, frustration and concern evident in your voice.

"Ma'am, please let us do our job," they respond firmly, their tone professional but reassuring.

We all hurriedly follow behind the nurses as they wheel Billy into the emergency room. A doctor approaches Susan, hoping for some insight into what happened so he can provide the best care possible. Susan tells him everything, providing as much detail as she can to assist in Billy's treatment.

"Please wait in the waiting room. We'll call you once we've assessed him and he's stable," the doctor says sympathetically, reassuring you as you reluctantly make your way to the waiting area.

You, Susan, and Max waited anxiously. Max buried her face into the crook of your neck, unable to contain her sobs. You brushed her hair gently, trying to offer comfort, but you were struggling to hold yourself together as well.

Being there brought back uneasy memories, and the uncertainty of Billy's condition only deepened your depression.

Over 25 minutes had passed, each second feeling like an eternity in the tense waiting room until,

"Miss Hargrove, miss Hargrove?" called a nurse, breaking the tense atmosphere. But as the nurse approached, her expression unreadable, a chill ran down your spine, leaving you to wonder what news she was about to deliver about Billy's condition.———————————————————————————

Taglist: @jennapancake @writethrough @callsignwidow @strlightfilms

Tags:

[yoonieper]

For the Birds— Part 4 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri) 

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff!

♡ Rated: R for Regret

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: panic attack, lots of bad self-deprecating thoughts, repressed Jungkook makes an appearance once again, masturbation (m + f), use protection (!!!), public sex, oral (m + f receiving), koo is a bj virgin, fingering, unprotected sex (be smart!)

♡ Word Count: 37.9k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Liquor by Chris Brown— see masterlist for playlist! 

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @mellowladyanchor for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! Betas get early access to chapters, so if you're free to help out and can't wait for next chapter, consider joining the team!!!

♡ Author’s Note: I started this thinking it was going to be one of the shortest chapters but 😀 Hehehehehe anyway, get cozy, get some snacks, maybe something nice and warm to drink as well, and enjoy my friends!

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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It was still too early for him; the sun was barely peeking over the skyline. Businesses were just beginning to flip their signs to open, the sounds of the city were growing louder by the minute— only a soft murmur in the restful city background, and daily menus were just now beginning to be set outside for the few passersby who were walking the streets this early morning. 

It was in these initial hours on the first day of November that Min Yoongi arrived at his office. He had an iced Americano firmly grasped in his hand despite the chilly temperature outside. He always preferred the drink in its cooler state, no matter the weather, to quickly wake him up in the morning. It worked enough to get him here, but never as much as he needed it to.

He yawned as the elevator slowly rode up to the floor his office resided on. He still had a few hours before his first appointment, but Yoongi always came early to do menial tasks like office bills or general prep work for appointments. He didn’t have too much to do today, but some important documents he’d been putting off were calling his name.

His eyes lazily drifted over to Secretary Kim’s desk, as they always did, ready to say a brisk “good morning” before heading into his office until the time neared his first appointment.  

Yoongi was so out of it this morning. He and Heran were up all night with their little Bora. They both figured more of her baby teeth were coming in and that’s what’s been making their daughter so fussy these days. Heran especially had been a little worried after their third all-nighter, but Yoongi was quick to notice the little bumps in her gums upon further inspection, indicating she was likely just teething. It had been a rough few nights, last night especially, but eventually he was able to get her to fall asleep in his arms after he let his wife go back to bed.  

He languidly glanced over at Secretary Kim ready to wave, but her wide eyes quickly caught his attention as she discreetly pointed toward the waiting area. He wasn’t expecting anyone this early but lo and behold was the man he hadn’t seen in seven months.

His big, round eyes were instantly recognizable as they stared up at him when he noticed Yoongi standing there. This was certainly unexpected. He definitely didn’t have Jeon Jungkook booked today.

“Mr. Jeon! What a surprise!” Yoongi smiled as he walked over to him. 

Jungkook stood up, and Yoongi took particular interest in the way he shakily shifted his weight from one side to the other. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and Yoongi could immediately tell something was wrong. 

“Hi— I’m sorry for barging in so suddenly like this…” Yoongi could hear the strain in his voice. 

“No issue at all, my door is always open.” He smiled but Yoongi hoped he got the point. His door was always open, no matter what the issue might be.

“I— I um… I wanted to talk to you— and… I can come back later if you’re busy, but—” Jungkook seemed fidgety and could hardly look at the doctor, the floor seeming to hold his attention more than Yoongi’s concerned gaze. 

Alarm bells were going off in his head. Normally he didn’t take walk-ins like this, but when the circumstances seemed dire, like in today's case, someone’s well-being was always more important than anything else. Something clearly wasn’t right with him, and he still had a few more hours until his first appointment anyway. No harm in this at all.

Yoongi glanced over to his secretary and they both shared the same worried expression before he guided Jungkook toward the door to his office. 

It had been seven months since he’d seen him, but Yoongi could instantly tell Jungkook seemed different. As he turned on the lights in his office that fact became more clear. Since the time that they had last seen each other, Jungkook evidently looked more tired, the dark circles around his eyes were prominent, but he did a good job of hiding it in the way his hair had grown to hang lowly over his eyes. Yoongi also thought he seemed paler, like he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, and he could have sworn his round face had grown more gaunt as well. 

Yoongi had hoped that the couple’s absence after their last session meant that good things had come between them. Despite only having one session, he thought that maybe the glaring problems of their relationship had become apparent, and now that they were in the open, they had found themselves on a path to a happy and healthy relationship.

Yoongi wished this meeting had been a reunion of sorts, that Jungkook was coming to visit just to thank him for the session, or to simply catch up, or even just coming to ask for more advice in the long journey of building up their relationship. Any sort of sign, really, to indicate that they were working on the distressing issues in their marriage and that progress had been made in the seven months since they last saw each other.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s appearance alone was enough to show his optimism had been in vain. And to make matters even more concerning, as soon as Yoongi shut the door behind them, he watched Jungkook haphazardly stumble over and collapse on the couch.

Yoongi hurriedly joined him by his side, his worry soaring to even greater heights seeing Jungkook desperately tangle his fingers through his hair. His grip on the strands was so firm that Yoongi feared he’d pull out the tresses threaded in his grasp. Sitting this close now, he could smell that Jungkook had been drinking, probably excessively too. It wasn’t looking good; time had not been kind to him. If anything, things seemed worse.

His soft whimpers slowly began to fill the growing silence. 

“Jungkook…?” Yoongi asked gently as he placed a hand on his back. 

“I’m s—sorry… so sorry. I should have called befo—before I came, I’m so sorry.” If it wasn’t already evident in his voice, Yoongi could see his hands in his hair were shaking.

“Like I said before, my door is always open. Did something happen?” Yoongi was trying to be calm, but the memories of their last session came flooding back in a rush and his mind raced with the possibilities of what had made him so frantic.

The question just seemed to make things worse, and like in their last session, Yoongi feared Jungkook was on the verge of another panic attack. Jungkook’s sobs became louder and his breathing grew more shallow with each breath he took.  

“Deep breaths, take your time,” Yoongi reassured, gently rubbing circles on his back. Jungkook quickly seemed to listen and tried his best to focus on the doctor’s words.

“Yuri— I—” Jungkook finally released the death grip on his hair and leaned back on the couch, letting his tears flow down his cheeks. 

“I cheated on my wife last night.” It was like he had practiced saying this with how clear it was despite the shakiness in his voice. The statement seemed to linger in the air as Yoongi processed his words. He tried not to show his immediate shock at the statement. From what he could remember from the last time he spoke with Jungkook, this was a pretty big deal, which could explain the distress. 

“I wish I was coming here to— to tell you how bad I felt about doing it, but—” Jungkook’s lip started to quiver. “I was up all night and I couldn’t stop thinking about it— I should feel bad, I want to feel bad, but…” More tears rolled down his cheeks.

“It just felt so good.” 

The confession made it all too real as he looked at the doctor. It made him feel even more like a monster.

Jungkook had spent the night trying to make himself feel bad about his time with you. He’d wandered around the apartment looking at all the pictures littered on the tables and walls of him and Yuri, hoping that would spark fond feelings of their relationship. 

If someone visiting their apartment saw the plethora of photos they have sprinkled around the place, it would seem like the couple shared many memories together. But just like their entire relationship, it was merely an illusion. 

When they first moved in Yuri had taken on the majority of the work decorating their apartment. She had an eye for interior design. Aside from modeling, she was quite passionate and knowledgeable about the subject— it’s what she originally went to school for before she was scouted and modeling became her main priority. 

The place mainly reflected her taste, but she’d ask Jungkook his opinions occasionally on some of her ideas, and he was pretty easy-going, so he just let her have her fun. He also knew how much she enjoyed it, it was one of the things he’d learned on their honeymoon when she confessed her ambition to open her own business someday. It was important to her, and it honestly warmed his heart to see how passionate she was decorating their new home together.

Right before they officially moved in, Yuri had signed them up for a bunch of photo shoots to help fill in the relatively empty picture frames around the apartment. The only memories they had were of their wedding, honeymoon, and a couple of pictures from their dates before they were engaged. Memories, yes, but certainly not enough for a couple who decided to take a leap of faith and get married so young. 

Professional photoshoots with the photographer she shot with regularly were a weekly occurrence for about a month. Jungkook had cherished this time since he was still trying to process how uncomfortable things had become after they came back from their honeymoon. That was really the only time they would speak to each other and things weren’t awkward. 

Jungkook had hoped that just being in the apartment would remind him of his marriage and ignite the shame that he had just committed a horrible sin, one that could have gotten him killed a couple of centuries ago. And yet, as Jungkook stood there trying to reminisce about all of their fond memories, he was also trying his best to ignore the way his length pleaded for you all over again.

Pathetic… more than that really.

He’d finally grabbed a beer out of the fridge at some point, hoping at the very least he could stop thinking about you and maybe try and get some sleep before he needed to go to work in the morning. The beer didn’t help, it never did. Rather it made his guilt, or his lack thereof, echo even louder. 

Jungkook had looked to Dr. Min with the hope that he would be a voice of reason, a slap to the face to make him feel the mortification he should right now. 

Jungkook stared at the doctor, just waiting for the look of disgust he was hoping for. He wanted someone to tell him how insane he sounded, how much of a terrible person he was for it. Instead, he couldn’t read the look on the doctor’s face as the words started to process in his mind. It made him that much more anxious. He wanted an immediate reaction, he wanted Dr. Min to scream at him if he had to, but instead, he just looked off in the distance as he never once stopped his gentle massage across his back.

“What makes you say that?” Dr. Min finally asked after the silence started to linger for a little too long.

“I didn’t know— know it could feel that good.” Jungkook’s body instantly reacted to the mention of last night— this morning really. It hadn’t been that long. It was all so clear and got even more so the more he tried not to think about it.

“And what makes you say that?” Dr. Min repeated with a gentle smile on his face.

Jungkook was being vague. Yoongi had a feeling this was a common occurrence, but those details truly mattered right now. 

“You don’t have to get explicit, it's just— If I’m recounting correctly, I know the last time we spoke you mentioned that you didn’t have much experience besides Yuri. What was it like then, stepping outside of your relationship?” Yoongi clarified, noticing Jungkook seemed a little confused. 

Jungkook turned away as his mind traveled back to early this morning… you, your lips, your hands, your skirt bunched around your waist. 

“She touched me.” The words just slipped out of his mouth without much thought. “No one ever did that before.” At least the way you had. As delusional as it was, for a split second he felt wanted, like someone actually craved him as badly as he did for them. It was nonsense, Jungkook just happened to be blessed that night by your unwavering kindness even to someone as pathetic as him in a moment of weakness. But still, he knew something felt different about last night.  

Yoongi hummed, remembering that the topic had come up in their session. 

“To be honest… Now that I think about it, I never really enjoyed it that much beforehand.” Jungkook stared off into the distance, coming to a revelation that he was aware of but never fully articulated until now.

“Sex?” Yoongi put it bluntly, making Jungkook’s face flush slightly.

He shyly nodded.

“I thought I did. I liked it when she just acknowledged my existence, it would make my day. I wanted anything from her really, but I think when it came to being intimate it just made me feel…” A word bounced around in his head, a sour word he knew spoke true to his feelings whenever he was with Yuri, yet it never materialized enough to explain to the doctor. After a while Jungkook just sighed and gave up, deciding to continue. “I think I just wanted her close. I wanted Yuri to want me, and I feel like that’s when I felt it the most. I craved it so much that I bet I seemed pathetic, but even then, I don’t think I really enjoyed it— not in the same way at least.” Jungkook struggled to fully articulate what he was trying to say, and just hoped Dr. Min could get the picture.

Yuri never touched him like that. She hardly touched him at all. Jungkook had always craved affection, but he’d never known how much he would truly enjoy it until now.

“I’m hopeless, aren’t I…?” This would normally have been a moment he would have tried to laugh at, but his heart hurt so much, he went back to crying. 

Why didn’t he feel guilty?

“Jungkook, look… Can I be honest with you for a second?” Yoongi eventually said. He seemed serious. 

Jungkook looked over at the doctor, ready for the slap to the face he came for. 

“I’m trying to look at this situation as objectively as I can. It’s been a while since we talked and I never really got Yuri’s side when I wanted to speak to you both one-on-one. As much as I probably shouldn’t, I think this is a situation where I need to take my therapist hat off and approach this like I’m just your friend giving you my two cents. Can I do that?” Yoongi asked before he continued. 

Jungkook steadily nodded.

Yoongi took a deep breath and one good look at Jungkook before continuing. “You don’t look good.” His words were blunt, but he had a look of genuine concern on his face. 

Jungkook’s eyes widened, not at all expecting that to be what he was going to say.

“You look like shit if I’m being honest.” Yoongi reiterated, wanting to be even more straightforward. As hurtful as it might sound, it was the truth. He didn’t even know Jungkook that well and he could clearly see the last few months had not been kind to him. It might have been different if he had no inclination as to why that might be the case, but considering what they’ve discussed so far, plus the fact that he’d briefly met his wife, he already knew a problem he could help advise on. Hopefully a bit of no-nonsense advice might set him on the right path. 

“I’ve seen all types of couples come in through those doors, and many more before I got my own office. I’ve helped couples rekindle their relationships that were in horrendous conditions.  Some were just minor issues that they needed help mediating and talking through. Others… I’ll be honest and say I’m surprised they even worked out. No relationship is perfect, but as long as there’s love, there’s hope. You and Yuri are a special case. You both never had those feelings at any point of your relationship that I could help remind you of.” 

Yoongi had spent some time after Jungkook’s last session contemplating the best advice he could give to a couple who had never properly loved each other. Helping them was basically asking them to build a relationship from scratch, a mission Jungkook seemed dead set on doing, and it might have been possible if their relationship didn’t hold such animosity. 

The way Yuri acted in the one session he met her in was honestly unacceptable. Her words were said out of spite, not out of hurt, or even in hopes of betterment— she just wanted to make it hurt as much as possible. Hostile relationships weren’t a foreign subject to him, but it was clear by Jungkook’s panic attack that what he saw probably didn’t even scratch the surface of their relationship behind closed doors.

Yoongi would help anyone who came through his doors, but when he suspected someone was causing more harm than good, and not even trying to make things work, there was little he could do. Being even more honest with himself, he didn’t want to help them. Toxic relationships aren’t good for anyone’s well-being, and it went against the very reason he became a therapist to encourage Jungkook to “stick it out” and hope things get better. 

This wasn’t even just toxic… 

Jungkook looked like he got hit by a bus, and then it backed up, ran over him again, backed up, and just kept repeating the cycle to make sure they got him. He did not look good, and although he didn’t know Jungkook all that well and there could be many things in his life that might be causing his mental break, he could never forget his face as Yuri spewed those harsh words at him.

What he did know was that she certainly wasn’t helping.

“You and Yuri… I don’t think your relationship is healthy to continue— not now at the very least. I think you need some time to regain your footing before even entertaining the idea of having healthy discussions about your relationship. I never thought I’d say this, but I think the affair could be a good thing for you in some way. Hopefully it might get you to think more about your relationship with your wife and could aid in the overall discussion on whether it should continue.” It was certainly strange hearing that out of the doctor’s mouth. Never in a million years did Jungkook expect that when he came over.

“The fact that you’re telling me you didn’t really enjoy sex in general until last night, that you only wanted it as a way to get close to Yuri… I mean, I hope you know that’s not good.” Yoongi laid it out plainly, hoping he would see the issue. 

Jungkook stared down at the ground, seemingly lost in thought. “But it’s all my fault…” 

“Jungkook—”

“It’s my fault, everything is. If I was better— fuck, and here I am cheating on her— I— I—” The tears started spilling past his eyes, and Yoongi could tell Jungkook was seconds away from a breakdown. 

His hands quickly tangled in his hair, but even with the dark locks in the way Yoongi could still see the way they shook. His breathing grew more shallow, and it was obvious he wasn’t listening to him anymore.

Yoongi quickly leaned over and wrapped an arm around him.

“Take deep breaths for me.” Yoongi softly instructed, but things got worse before they got better. 

He wasn’t entirely surprised this was happening, Jungkook seemed off since the moment he first said hello. Things had since escalated, but he feared this attack had started long before he stepped back into his office.

Jungkook seemed panicked realizing that this was happening again. He was almost hyperventilating at this point, but Yoongi was there just like the last time. Jungkook looked at him for help with tears in his eyes and Yoongi made sure he held his gaze as he started taking calm, deep breaths, hoping Jungkook would mirror him.

It was bad, really bad actually. Yoongi was starting to worry Jungkook might pass out, but eventually he was able to catch his breath enough so he could participate in the breathing exercises. 

“I’m— I’m so sorry— I’m so—so sorry!” Yoongi was shocked Jungkook was able to talk at all, but unsurprised that he was back to apologizing for something he didn’t need too. 

This, this is exactly why Yoongi truly believed their relationship was beyond saving at this point. This wasn’t just a rough patch, and even the word toxic didn’t feel like it was enough either. Abuse— emotional abuse— Jungkook was showing similar symptoms to those he’s treated who came from situations where their partner was verbally abusive, degrading them every day to the point they saw little value in themselves anymore. But this was a huge accusation, one Yoongi didn’t want to share with Jungkook just yet. He didn’t know Yuri or the situation enough to throw that term at her, but Yoongi just knew this relationship was not good for Jungkook in the slightest.

He eventually managed to calm Jungkook down enough to repeat the phrase he told him last time while he went to get him some water.

“It’s okay not to be okay.” Cleverly handpicked from the title of the popular Netflix show many of his patients were familiar with. 

Jungkook had calmed down for the most part. They both sat in silence— Jungkook’s soft whines occasionally filled the space along with the crinkling of the water bottle he held tightly in his grasp. It honestly hurt to watch him like this. It’s not like he knew the guy all that well, but Yoongi was always quick to get attached to anyone he looked after… and something about Jungkook reminded him of a stray puppy he found on the street. It was sick and injured, and Yoongi wanted nothing more than to take it home and nurse it back to health. Now, Jungkook wasn’t a stray puppy by any means, but from the meetings they shared he held the same innocence and fragility you might look at a puppy with. He was so broken, young, and had so much going for him still.

It wasn’t even Jungkook’s fault that he ended up in this situation, a crazy expectation was placed on him at a young age in a world that seemed so foreign to the doctor. Yoongi might not understand it, but he couldn’t just sit back and watch Jungkook essentially give up and spiral further and further into a hole he might not eventually be able to pull himself out of.

“You don’t have to answer this if you’re not comfortable; I’m just curious… Who was it with?” The question seemed to linger in the air for a long time. At first, Yoongi thought Jungkook just wasn’t in a talking mood anymore, or maybe he needed to clarify, but eventually he answered.

“She works at Golden Tech… we stayed late last night working on things and…” Jungkook trailed off, letting the silence speak louder than he could.

Yoongi nodded his head, getting the picture. “Was it just a spur of the moment thing or…?” he continued.

Jungkook was quiet for a little while, but eventually, he shook his head as a few tears trickled down his cheeks.

“No… yes… maybe…? I had been thinking about her for a while and… it had been so long since Yuri and I… you know…? We had a fight that morning because of it and… I don’t know, I think I had a breakdown. She was there for me and so warm and—” Jungkook had to stop himself abruptly knowing how strange that sounded. It made him think back to his time with you in his office. His face flushed at the recollection, and Yoongi smiled at him.

“It’s alright. She sounds nice if she was there for you like that. How long have you thought about this?” 

“It’s been years— probably since she started working at the company.” Jungkook felt himself getting choked up at the shame of it all. “It got worse as time went on and I saw more of her— it’s one of the reasons I booked Yuri and I for therapy back then— she was in my head too much.”  

Interesting.

“Do you have feelings for her?” Another blunt question from the doctor that Jungkook was certainly unprepared for. What he said was so off the wall that it warranted a spit-take like he was in some sitcom. He was left completely unable to process the words that spilled from Dr. Min’s mouth. The question honestly warranted an even more dramatic response. 

“W-What?!” Jungkook stared at the doctor.

“You heard me.” Yoongi was both joking and incredibly serious. Feelings would change the whole story.

“It’s not like that,” Jungkook stated confidently. “I was just desperate, and I’m very married. It was just a mistake, a fluke.” He echoed your words from last night. You were right after all.

“A fluke? But didn’t you come in here saying you couldn’t stop thinking about it?” Yoongi pointed out.

Jungkook suddenly got very quiet.

“Okay Jungkook, I’m going to need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say— you can do that, right?” Yoongi put his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder to get him to look him in the eye. He hated eye contact, it just made him flustered, but he would do anything to ensure Jungkook was paying attention.

“In all my years as a couples therapist I never thought I’d say this, but I think taking some time apart from Yuri to go out and live your own life might be the best option to go from here. I think you’re not in the right headspace yet to have a productive conversation with her about the issues in your relationship— I think you could use some time apart to clear your head and get your thoughts in order.”

Blunt, the doctor wasn’t beating around the bush at all.

“You need to take some time for yourself and make sure you’re okay before prioritizing your relationship. You’re still so young, you got married really young— I feel like it’s hard to even have those conversations with Yuri when you might not even be sure what you want in the first place. That’s not your fault, but you deserve to take some time for yourself to figure it out.” 

Yoongi was still working on how to navigate his own marriage and he specialized in the field. Managing a relationship with the newly added challenge of parenthood was a territory he’d only covered with clients in the past, but experiencing it personally was a completely different story. Even he was still learning to deal with the big change in him and his wife’s life. He couldn’t imagine going through all the challenges of marriage when he was twenty-six, let alone twenty-two. That certainly would have spelled disaster. 

“I think these issues run deeper than what I could help you with in couples therapy, and honestly Jungkook, I recommend taking some time to evaluate if your relationship is something you want to continue. I don’t know what happens behind closed doors, so I don’t want to overstep, but I’m seeing a lot of red flags in the way Yuri treats you. No relationship should have you feeling like this, and at the very least, I think some time apart will help you get some perspective and communicate this to her.” 

Jungkook continued to stare at him with wide eyes, and Yoongi just hoped he was listening.

“Removing yourself entirely I think should be the first step— focusing on yourself, doing the things you like, and spending time with people who make you feel happy and appreciated would be good for you. It would hopefully help get you back on your feet. However, I know this situation is still complicated.” 

“You should tell Yuri what happened last night, your feelings about it, why it happened, etcetera… I know it will be hard, and I can’t tell you what her reaction to this might be, but it’s in the past now, and honesty is the least you can offer her at this point.” Despite his mixed feelings toward Yuri, he still didn’t condone cheating. He’d been on the other side of that story before, and going behind someone’s back and lying might honestly be worse than the act itself.   

“It will give her the chance to make her own decision about the future of your relationship. If she doesn’t end things right then and there and doesn’t mention it already, you should say that you need a little space. You can say this was my idea if you have to. But for your sake Jungkook, and for the sake of your relationship, I think you should take a step back so you can have the opportunity to learn and explore exactly what you want moving forward.” This seemed like the only path Jungkook could take at this point. He didn’t know how Yuri would react to this considering they never truly had a relationship, but if she still wanted to work things out, Jungkook needed some time away from her to hopefully give him a chance to be in a better mental state. Then maybe they could have a proper conversation about the future of their relationship.   

Yoongi had only turned away for a second during his closing statement, but it was enough that when he looked back, Jungkook’s eyes had fluttered closed, and he looked like he was about three seconds away from dozing off. 

“Jungkook, did you hear me?” Yoongi shook him lightly, making Jungkook jolt awake.

“Yes— sorry! Sorry, sorry— fuck, I’m so sorry!” Jungkook was apologizing once again, and Yoongi already felt bad. 

“I just, sorry— I hardly slept last night or the night before… I’m running on three hours of sleep from two days ago.” Jungkook tried to laugh it off as he rubbed his tired eyes, but having this moment of calm after everything that’s happened was enough for the need to sleep to overwhelm him. 

Yoongi softly rubbed his back again. “You know that’s not good, right?”

“I know, and I have this big meeting later— I’m doomed.” In that instant, the haziness of sleep had clouded his brain. He couldn’t think straight, and he had to present at the meeting later along with you… Jungkook didn’t notice Yoongi’s concerned gaze as he tried to wake himself up. 

“You did hear me earlier, right?” Yoongi asked again.

“I did…” He wasn’t lying. His eyes might have closed at some point, but he was taking in every word the entire time.

“What will you do next then?”

“I don’t know.” It was a lot. Too much was happening and he was too tired to really think about what he should do right now.

Yoongi nodded. “It’s a lot, I understand. I just want to make sure you’ll think about what I said.”

Jungkook looked over and Yoongi could see how quickly his eyes had grown red.  He looked like he could pass out at any moment. 

“I will.”

Yoongi watched Jungkook rub his eyes before he tried to open them up. It looked like it was taking everything in him to keep them open. “Jungkook, maybe you should take a nap before you head out again.” Yoongi suddenly said.

Jungkook blinked a couple of times before turning toward the doctor. “Huh?”

“You can sleep on the couch. I don’t have my first appointment till 12:30, so you can stay here until then.” It was a generous offer, and one he wouldn’t normally make, but he felt it was necessary given Jungkook’s condition. 

“That’s really nice of you, but I have work I need to—” 

“Mmm, you don’t think your work will be affected if you haven’t slept right in the last 48 hours?” Yoongi interrupted. 

Jungkook was about to say something, but the more he thought about it and his eyes continued to sting, the more he knew the doctor was right. Truth be told, Jungkook doesn't sleep much these days anyway. He was busy as it was, but almost any time he got in bed, his head would be swimming with so many thoughts it took forever to fall asleep. However, even then, these last two days had definitely taken a toll on him. If it was any other day, he would have insisted he needed to get back to work, but really, he just had to be there for the meeting later; any other work could be handled at a different point if need be. The doctor was right as well— how could he get anything done like this? Even walking seemed like an impossible task.

“You’d really let me stay?” Jungkook’s voice was soft, but Yoongi noticed he sounded surprised.

“Of course. Rest up.” Yoongi gave him a slight smile before standing up. “I’ll just be over at my desk doing a little work. I won’t be loud.” 

Jungkook stared up at Dr. Min with tears in his eyes. He could hardly believe anyone was being this nice to him, let alone after he admitted to cheating on his wife. The doctor didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything as he moved over to his desk.

Jungkook quickly whipped out his phone, and after a bit of scrolling, found the person he needed to call. All it took was a few rings for him to answer.

“Hyung…” Jungkook was groggy and hoarse from all the crying. Just the thought of sleep alone was enough to wear him down even more.

“Jungkook? Where are you?” Jimin’s concerned voice was heard on the other end.

“Doesn’t matter— just… I wanted to tell you to let everyone know who might be looking for me, that I’m going to be a little late today.” 

“Late? What about the meeting later?” Jimin exclaimed, a little baffled. Of all the days to be late…

“I’ll be there. If Y/n asks—” There it was, the person he tried not to think about at all.

Jimin noticed the pause. “Jungkook?”

“Uh, if Y/n asks where I am, tell her I’ll be there an hour beforehand so we can do our final preparations.” Seeing you again… he was really not looking forward to seeing you again.

“Jungkook…”

He rubbed his sleepy eyes, but nothing he did made them any easier to keep open. “Yes?”

“What’s going on? Why are you going to be late?” Jimin was concerned. Despite the awkwardness that had settled between the pair, Jimin never once stopped worrying about him.

“I just— I didn’t get much sleep last night.” It wasn’t a lie necessarily, but he definitely wasn’t going to tell him the whole truth. He couldn’t tell Jimin just how awful he had become.

There was silence over the line for a little while. Maybe Jimin was expecting Jungkook to continue and elaborate further, but then realized that was all the information he was going to get out of him.

“I see… sleep well then, and try to get here as soon as you can. Things have been pretty hectic today.” Jimin pointed out.

Jungkook lazily chuckled. “They’re hectic everyday these days.” Q4s were always so busy.

Jimin laughed as well. “Alright, see you later then.”

“Bye, hyung.” And with that, Jungkook clicked off the call. 

He didn’t notice, but a warm smile had settled on Yoongi’s face. He didn’t have to know who he called, he could tell they were close.

“You seriously don’t mind me staying here? I’ve been told I snore…” Jungkook’s face flushed at the mention of it. Yuri would sometimes kick him awake if he got too loud.

“Sleep!” Yoongi called out as he started looking through his computer. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jungkook sheepishly take off his shoes before grabbing the blanket draped over the couch. He laid down, and it probably wasn’t even two minutes later that Yoongi knew he’d actually fallen asleep. He lightly chuckled to himself before getting started on the work he set out to do. It wasn’t much, but he did come early just to make sure he got it done so he wouldn’t get home too late.

To be honest, Yoongi hardly noticed Jungkook was even there at all. It just felt like the times he’d be working at home and Heran would be passed out on the couch with their daughter sleeping in her arms. But Jungkook wasn’t lying earlier; he did snore. It wasn’t anything too obnoxious, but occasionally Yoongi was reminded someone was in fact in the room with him. Even then, he hardly noticed— again, it was just like home.

Cute. 

Jungkook was truly out cold. Last night was overwhelming. First, the whole situation with you sent him spiraling, and then his quest to make himself feel bad about it proved to be a harder task than it should have been. 

No matter what good memory he recounted of him and Yuri last night, the thought of you on his desk was like a massive tidal wave that washed any attempts he made to remember his wife back to sea. In truth, he spent more of the night trying not to give into temptation than the thought of any guilt about his actions. He'd already betrayed Yuri enough; relieving the ache for some reason that was a line he couldn’t cross. 

These thoughts created a horrible cycle in his mind of “you just cheated on your wife” to then “but it just felt so good” to “but you know how disappointed Yuri would be if you do that” to “but it felt so fucking good” to “you’re an actual piece of shit, you deserve feeling like this.” It had his head spinning. 

He was tired and tried downing a beer so he could quickly pass out and he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. But then Yuri came home— 5:35am on the dot. 

She looked good, so good, even with most of the lights off. Yuri had changed from her off-the-shoulder, black, sweater dress into something more relaxing— a cozy black hoodie and gray sweatpants. Yuri was also carrying the tote she used for short excursions that weren’t overnight, but far enough to come back at a time like this— she had to go to and from Busan today. She must have been so tired, and he’d spent the night cheating on her.

Jungkook had been so out of it. He was drunk, very drunk, and he was so tired, but he just couldn’t fall asleep. Maybe he would have reacted better seeing her, but his whole body felt numb when she noticed he was sitting at the dining table. 

This would have been the time for him to get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness, but instead he just continued to sit there.

Yuri hurriedly walked over and despite how much the room was spinning, he could tell by her footsteps she was mad.

“Jungkook, are you drunk?!” She exclaimed, but the words were hazy in his mind. The question was redundant, all the empty beer bottles on the table would have given her the answer. 

“Yuri… I’msorry.” His words slurred. He bet he looked pathetic. He hasn’t gotten drunk in front of her that often. He never wanted her to see that side of him, or rather, how that other side might act if she did.

The silence lingered in the apartment for a little and maybe if the lights were on, she would have seen his lip quivering before she heard his sobs.

“I’m sorry.” His sad attempt at an apology rang in the air. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, sorry. I’m—”

“What is wrong with you?” She honestly sounded baffled. Through the haziness of it all, he recognized that she likely had no idea what he was talking about.

There were so many things he could be apologizing for, yesterday morning was a great example. Maybe that’s what she thought he was talking about. Or maybe it was the fact that he was drunk. There were just so many things, but cheating on her probably wasn’t where her immediate train of thought went.

“I’m sorry!” He just sobbed out, an apology not for cheating on her necessarily, but because he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad about it.

Yuri had no idea what was going on, and it was so late. “Get yourself together, please. It’s too late for this and I’m too tired to try and understand you. I’m going to bed and you better figure this out before joining me.” Yuri just sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder once again before walking off toward their bedroom. The fact she even offered to share the bed was astonishing. He deserved less than the couch at this point.

With Yuri here, it made it all too real how badly he had betrayed her. They were meant to be playing the part of a happily married couple, they were meant to be a happily married couple, but he let his own selfish desires get in the way and now that dream was shattered. Why couldn’t he have just waited? All he ever wanted was to be a good husband to her and yet he couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about the night he shared with you. He’d cheated and still couldn’t stop thinking with his dick for more than two seconds, instead overwhelmed by the way his whole body hadn’t stopped tingling since he helped you off his desk. He never deserved forgiveness. Horrible. He couldn’t go any lower than this. 

He was too drunk to remember when the shaking began, or when it got hard to breathe, but he knew he had to listen to your advice. He needed to talk to someone, now.

Jungkook had looked up when Dr. Min’s office opened, and he was at the door shortly after the secretary got there. She had given him those same sad eyes she did before he left the last time when she saw him stumble into the office.

“Dr. Min will be here shortly…” she had assured him. She could probably see how on edge he was.

To be honest, the whole night was a blur at this point. One minute he was at the dining table, the next he was calling Dae-Jung (who was kind enough to pick him up, despite the early hour and how his words slurred together on the phone), then he was in Dr. Min’s office. It felt like time was passing by without him. 

Jungkook never checked the time to know when he fell asleep, but when he felt the gentle touch of Dr. Min letting him know it was time to get up, he knew he hadn’t slept long enough. Just opening his eyes was a task that seemed too much to overcome. He needed eight hours, probably more at this point. He honestly felt worse after waking up than he did before he fell asleep. He hoped it was just the grogginess needing to wear off, but the sounds of amusement from the doctor he eventually realized was sitting on the table right in front of him, were not the best received.

“You might want to fix your hair.” Yoongi chuckled lightly, seeing the long strands sticking up in different directions.

Cute.

His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and he wanted to go back to sleep so badly. 

It certainly looked that way from Yoongi’s perspective as well. Jungkook had this grumpy look on his face as he steadily tried to sit up, and his eyes just barely fluttered open so he could see they were slightly red.

“Do you feel better?” Yoongi asked, and Jungkook quickly shook his head.

“I’m not surprised. You really need to get more sleep… If you can, you should take the rest of the day off after your meeting. Give yourself the day to try and get yourself back together.” He suggested. “Doctor’s orders.”

The thought was tempting. The main task he had to complete today was the meeting. Everything else, as far as he knew, could be handled later. But he already hadn’t shown up to work this morning, what would everyone think? What might they be saying right now? Just the thought of anyone thinking he was slacking off made the idea seem selfish. 

Jungkook didn’t say anything though, as he tried to muster up any energy he had regained to get up from the couch.

“Oh, and before I forget—” Suddenly Jungkook felt a small piece of paper in his hand. It took a minute for him to realize what it was, but it was similar to the one Yoongi gave him after his last session. 

“Please make sure to visit him this time. I may be a therapist as well, but I think he’d be much better to talk to about your individual needs.” Yoongi was almost pleading. 

Kim Namjoon. Right, he forgot to do that last time. 

“Talk to him please, but if you ever need someone else to just chat with unofficially, you can stop by the office at any time or call me if you need to. You have my work phone, but at the bottom of the note I wrote my personal number.” If Jungkook was a patient, this probably would have been crossing a line, but he hasn’t been an official client since his last session back in April.

This was all unofficial, and it would continue to stay that way until things improved enough that alarm bells wouldn’t go off anytime he saw Jungkook. For some reason, he doubted that would happen anytime soon, at least as long as he was with Yuri. 

Yoongi made Jungkook agree to book an appointment soon, and said he’d check up with Namjoon to make sure he fulfilled his promise. They also promised to talk again soon as Jungkook started fixing himself up before heading out.

He was still slightly hungover, but the water he drank earlier helped ease things a little, so the headache wasn’t as bad as what it could be considering how much he imbibed last night.

It wasn’t long before Jungkook was getting a text from his driver that he was outside. 11:43am— an hour and twenty until the meeting and less than twenty minutes till he promised to meet you. He had to hurry and pray the traffic wasn’t bad, he still had to head home to shower and change….

With a swift goodbye, Jungkook was slinging his suit jacket and coat on before heading downstairs.

•────•──────────•────•

The meeting went okay. It was mainly thanks to you though. You were a great presenter, and things all went relatively how you both had planned. But Jungkook could have done better— he hadn’t even needed to talk much, but maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the hangover, or the massive wall of anxiety he practically slammed into that made things so difficult.

Jungkook had given presentations before, many times actually, and while he was always a little nervous, most of it would go away the minute he got up there and he was able to say what he needed to say to get his point across. For some reason, his anxiety was almost crippling this time. 

Jungkook had hardly thought about the presentation. So much shit had been happening it had almost been an afterthought. But while he was practicing with you, he was not prepared for the jitters he got as time drew nearer for the executives to come in.

It was even worse when it was actually time. He stood up there with you and he couldn’t stop shaking. The eyes of the executives were too much. It felt like that nightmare all over again. It was like they knew what he did, how terrible and incapable he was, and how he deserved how shitty his life had turned out.

Somehow he was able to cover all the points he needed to, but the shakiness in his voice was embarrassing, and he nearly had a breakdown when he saw their confused expressions staring back at him. He felt bad, so bad actually, because he was ruining this for you.

And you… Jungkook didn’t know what to do seeing you again. As soon as he walked into the meeting room, he was filled with disgust, but also wanted nothing more than to pull you close once more. It was horrible. 

You looked so good too, you always did. Your light blue turtleneck was neatly tucked into your white skirt, your signature lipstick was back on display, and your hair was styled nicely as it always was. You were so polished, a completely different look to how he dropped you off last night. And you looked amazing either way in his opinion.

But things were awkward, very awkward as you started your preparations. And to make matters worse, you were mad at him, or at the very least it was obvious you didn’t want to be around him when he finally made it to the meeting room. He saw it for a split second after he walked through the door and you made eye contact. It was a silent moment when you both acknowledged the night before, a moment you both realized that last night had in fact happened— but you were far quicker to move on from it, choosing to stick to the promise made to put the whole thing behind you.

Last night was a mistake, a fluke. It shouldn’t have happened.

The doctor was right that things would be different if feelings were involved, but last night was nothing more than sex. He was horny, sad, and you just happened to be there…. If you both acknowledged it then it would become something, something more than it needed to be. He was married, you were his coworker, and that’s how it needed to stay. 

But still, for a moment he wanted to say something. He wanted it to be something, because as much as he knew he needed to try and push past this, last night was still on his mind. Dr. Min didn’t help either. He thought he would give him the slap in the face he needed, but his words stuck to him.

What he wanted? Why did it matter what he wanted? He was the one who needed to fix this, he was the one who messed up. But for some reason anytime he thought about it you would pop into his head. You had been just a taste of the things he hadn’t discovered, and like a veil finally being lifted from his eyes, he could finally see how immense the world he lived in was. But you were forbidden, a fruit he couldn’t have, one he shouldn’t want. All he had was a taste and he wanted more. He wanted you in all the ways possible and to explore a side of himself he didn’t know existed until he was with you that night. The only experience he had was with Yuri, and he barely explored his sexuality outside of his relationship— Yuri making up 95% of his sexual experience and 100% of his relationship experience. He knew he was an amateur going into his marriage, but he never knew sex could feel that good.

He wanted Yuri, he wanted his wife, he wanted to be her husband, but as much as he kept telling himself that, the doctor’s words were back in his head once again and that side he was ashamed of would come out. He wanted you, and it was worse this time— instead of his imagination fueling his fantasy, he had an actual memory to look back on. The more he thought about it, the more the doctor’s words rang in his head. 

Would the best thing for his and Yuri’s relationship really be a break from each other? How did that make sense at all? How would he ever fix the mess he made if he wasn’t with her? And then to tell her about the affair? That was just a straight ticket to divorce and failure. The amount of people that would be let down if they knew what he did… it just didn’t make sense.

He had to fix this. He had to fix this. Failure wasn’t an option. 

•────•──────────•────•

The next few days weren’t any better. Somehow, it got worse.

He thought things would be awkward for a little while, but eventually you both would fall back into your routine. He thought the memory of that night would fade, and you would just become his coworker again. That mistake, that fluke, it would be like it never happened. 

But it did, and he couldn’t forget it. It seemed to be the only thing he could think about these days: your lips, your hands, your body, how it felt to have you right there on his desk. 

It should have been a mistake, it should have been a fluke, Jungkook should have been trying his very hardest to push that night out of his mind, to pretend that it didn’t happen, but… 

Sometimes he’d think about it too much. His mind betrayed him first and then his body would follow soon after. It seemed to happen every time he was alone. In the shower, in his office, in the gym, there was even this one time you assisted some of the managers with a presentation and he nearly lost his mind trying to keep it together. He completely forgot how to act like a normal person around you. Anytime you were in the same vicinity, the awkward conversations you used to share had downgraded to just standing there and staring at you like an idiot. He didn’t know what to say around you, how to make things go back to the small, awkward, yet friendly conversations you both would share whenever you saw each other in these last few weeks since you’d been promoted.  

He was a mess, and his mind and thoughts were muddled by a growing need that just got worse as the days passed. Each time he’d plead for his body to listen to him, to forget about that night so he could focus on Yuri again. There were too many times he had to fight every force of nature to stop himself from giving in. Tears would stream down his face as he thought about you, Yuri, and tried his best not to reach down his pants and fix it. 

He never thought it could get any worse than what he went through during those ten months of torture, but in just a matter of days you had him more needy than he knew what to do with.

Yesterday, two days after he had you on his desk, he tried to get Yuri to help him, but he should have known better. Jungkook had been in the shower with tears in his eyes as he looked down and saw what thinking about you did to him. He was trying so hard to be good for Yuri. He’d already betrayed her once, and he didn’t want to do it again, but it hurt so much.

In desperation, he quickly got out of the shower and went to Yuri who was lying peacefully on their bed, scrolling through her phone. Jungkook had tried to be subtle as he got in beside her, his hair was still damp and all. He scooted close and wrapped his arms around her waist. As soon as he was close enough she could feel it, he knew she could. Tears immediately welled up in his eyes all over again when he noticed her confusion before her realization of what was happening. This wasn’t as innocent as pulling her close because he wanted to cuddle, no, his perverse intentions couldn’t have been more clear.

He felt like a monster.

“Jungk—”

“Help— help me— please…” He quietly sobbed into her shoulder. His hips felt like they had a mind of their own, and he started grinding into the flimsy fabric of her shorts.

It was a desperate plea so he could forget about you and finally move on. He wanted Yuri to make him remember that she was his wife, he was her husband, and you were nothing more than his coworker. He would have taken anything, really. He would have done anything to make him forget.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, she let him have his fun. He was such a mess— his hand slowly ran under her tank top feeling her warm skin while he practically fucked her with their clothes still on. As more time passed, the more he lost himself in the pleasure. He didn’t need long at all; he just wanted it to stop hurting… anything to stop hurting.

His breathy sighs of pleasure filled the room in between the sound of the sheets shifting underneath him. There was a moment he thought Yuri would let him have this, after all, she still thought that it’d been ten months since he’d had the sweet bliss of release. But of course, he was too greedy.

“Yuri…” He sighed in hopes that would be enough to engage her, because even now he was picturing you on his desk. His hand came up to tug lightly on the waistband of her shorts. Two minutes tops and he could forget it all, get his priorities straight, and you were nothing to him again.

“Jungkook, stop! What the fuck are you doing?!” Yuri finally snapped as she turned around to face him. But even then, he still didn’t stop entirely. It was just enough to get him to slow down.

“Please— please— Yuri!” He cried because it hurt so much, and you just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Yuri was quick at gaining the upper hand, and she was on top of him just like that day. She had his hands pinned down and was sitting right where he needed her. 

“What is going on with you these days?!” She was disappointed, and he was too. She was right; what had gotten into him? Jungkook just sobbed because it still hurt.

“Help…” He begged like it meant anything. Maybe if he had told her right then and there about the affair she would have assisted. Maybe, or maybe not, but maybe that was what it would take for him to focus on her again. But just like the day this whole mess started, she seemed completely uninterested in helping him. 

“No.” She didn’t beat around the bush whatsoever, and maybe on a different occasion, he would have appreciated the honesty instead of leading him on to the point he was a whimpering mess underneath her. It just hurt too much.

Jungkook slightly shifted his hips— it was just enough to elicit a breathy moan from his lips and for the shame he felt all over to wash away in a second.

Yuri looked down at him questionably, he normally wasn’t like this at all.

“If you won’t help, then can I at least— can I fix this myself?” Jungkook looked up at her with pleading eyes. 

“Wha—”

“You’re probably tired. You’ve been really busy these days, and I’m sorry I bothered you, but—” Tears slipped down his cheeks as he subtly tried grinding into her a little harder. “I can’t wait. It hurts so much, Yuri— please can I fix this myself…” Jungkook never thought he’d reach this type of low.

First the affair, and now he was begging just because he couldn’t keep himself together long enough to wait until she needed him too. He couldn’t even imagine the disappointment she must be experiencing. Her eyes said as much before she even spoke.

“You can’t keep it together?” Her tone was low, and though Jungkook could sense she was mad, to his messed-up brain it was just more fuel to the fire of desire that was raging out of control at this point. It was hot.

He hurriedly shook his head.

“I feel like I might lose it just from you sitting on my lap.” He cried, tears streaming down his face because that wasn’t an exaggeration at all. He felt so bad. Why was he so pathetic? But at the same time, why couldn’t she see his desperation? He just wanted the chance to be with his wife, the person he should be with instead of his coworker in the middle of the night, at his job, right on the desk he worked on. 

Suddenly, Yuri chuckled as she looked down at him. She leaned down so her lips hovered over his cheek. He wished she didn’t have his hands pinned down so he could have tried to push her to meet his lips, but she kept moving up so her mouth was right by his ear.

This angle… Jungkook wished she was wearing one of those tank tops today. The view would have been amazing.

“You really can’t keep it together, huh?” Yuri said again, right into his ear, and he very well could have lost it right then and there. 

“No…” He sobbed.

Yuri pulled back slightly so she could look him in the eye. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you Jungkook, or whatever has gotten into that thick skull of yours, but I’m going to need whatever it is out immediately. You operate on my time, you wait until I’m ready. The fact that you can’t do that is just pathetic. I don’t care if it’s been months, I don’t understand how you think begging will do anything— a good fucking husband would know how to wait.” Every syllable was filled with the disappointment and malice he knew he deserved.

His heart wrenched at every word.

“I just— I just didn’t want to make a mistake— I’m sorry.” Jungkook was bawling at this point, his voice shaking uncontrollably. His face was probably red and soaking wet from how much he was crying. But he was lying right through his teeth. He’d already made a mistake, a horrible, terrible one. She had every right to never forgive him if she ever found out. It had only been a few days since he had you on his desk, and even after he had gone to such lengths to quell the ache of the last ten months, in just two days, he was in an even worse state than before. 

“A mistake?” She laughed.

“You’re the mistake— agreeing to get married to you was the mistake. I don’t ask much from you, yet you just keep disappointing me. I don’t even know why I still try to do this.” Her grip on his wrists had tightened so much it was starting to hurt. With the look in her eyes, Jungkook felt numb at this point. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t speak. Even if he could utter an apology, it would never be enough for the pain he’s caused her. Every word was true. Yuri was always right.

“But nevertheless, here I am. I don’t want to fight with you today Jungkook. All I ask is that you’ll wait, and until then…” Yuri’s hand let go of his wrist and started tracing from his jaw, down to his neck, over the expanse of his sweater, and eventually settled on the waistband of his shorts. She roughly pulled it before letting go, the pain of the elastic slapping back to his burning skin made an uncontrollable moan leave his lips before he could stop it. His head was spinning, he couldn’t keep up with what was happening anymore, and it was almost overwhelming.

“Stay away from me.” Her voice had grown soft, sultry almost, as she stared at him.

Jungkook felt almost crazed as the tears kept spilling from his eyes, her words loudly echoing through his head, but he was still hard, and he didn’t know what hurt more at this point. He was shaking and had the intense urge to run away and hide from the world, but he wanted nothing more than for Yuri to touch him more. It was selfish and disgusting, he just couldn’t get any worse.

With a hand now free, Jungkook suddenly found the strength to change the position. But before he realized what he was doing, Yuri was underneath him.

“Don’t do that, please.” Jungkook sighed, the position making his body instantly react, but his heart hurt too much to even attempt anything again. “I’ll leave you alone, I just want to make you happy— I’ll do anything, I hope you know that, but just… don’t make this hard for me, please.” Jungkook begged through his teary gaze. 

“I’m sorry I want you all the time, but when you touch me like that… I’m weak, you said it yourself.” He tried to laugh through the pain, but he was starting to feel shaky again.

“I just want to be a good husband, but I’m bad at this, so… just…” He was starting to get so choked up that it was hard to speak. “Just… just… just…” Jungkook buried himself in her neck so she wouldn’t have to see how pathetic he was right now. 

In the moment he missed you and how you comforted him that night; your hands across his back, your gentle touches that made him feel warm all over. He didn’t deserve it— not then, not now… but he still missed it.

“Go easy on me, please.” He couldn’t believe he had the audacity to say this like they haven’t been married for nearly four years. He’d run out of chances at this point. He should know by now what she likes and doesn’t. Even though they hadn’t spent that much time together, Jungkook knew before he walked out of the bathroom that she wouldn’t like this, that she'd get upset, yet he still tried anyway, hoping she might put him out of his misery.

There was no hope for him at this point. How Yuri hadn’t given up on him entirely was astounding.

“Jungkook, get off of me and stop fucking crying, that shit gets annoying after the billionth time.” Yuri groaned, already feeling her neck starting to get soaked. 

He really missed you— even though he didn’t deserve it, but you made him feel so good. He wished he was back to that Tuesday, the day he cried in your arms and took you right there on his desk. He missed you so much.

Jungkook quickly got off of Yuri and the bed entirely. He hastily started making his way to the bathroom once again.

“You better stop that before you—” He didn’t slam the door in her face, but Jungkook was in too much of a rush to let her finish. 

With the outside world finally shut out, Jungkook turned on the light, and from where he was standing at the door, he could see himself in the mirror. He was a mess, he looked like shit. His face was red and puffy, his face stained with tears that just kept falling from his eyes, and because he wasn’t wearing any underwear, the prominent outline of the very reason he got himself into this situation was embarrassingly obvious.

Jungkook hated what he saw, so he quickly turned the lights back off. In the darkness, all he could picture was you once again. That night, your soft warmth, your sympathetic gaze. Why did you look at him like that? Why didn’t you see what Yuri did? But he didn’t want to think about that right now, how much his heart ached, or how his mind cried out to the void to end the pain because he was just making his wife miserable. No. Instead, the memory of you on his desk was too vivid. He could practically still feel you wrapped around him, your hands on his skin, your lips on his lips, he couldn’t forget it.  He didn’t want to.

Tears spilled from his eyes faster than his hand found its way into his shorts. He hesitated for only a second. Yuri was right outside, and this was so wrong. He’d just disappoint her even more than he already has. As shameful as it was, that hesitation only lasted for a second before he hurriedly had his fingers wrapped around his length as he steadily started pumping his needy cock. 

“I’m— so sorry!” Jungkook cried out as quietly as he could. Just one big disappointment. But you, your lips, your hands— fuck, your hands. Your fingers through his hair, your nails down his back, your hand around his cock. It never felt like that before. Jungkook didn’t know it could feel like that—  sex never felt like that. Not with his first, not with Yuri, but you… you… why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

Jungkook hurriedly brought his hand over his mouth, the memories of when he used to do this returning all too quickly. He’d always wished Yuri would touch him, but that was selfish. The fact that she was even spending time with him should be enough. Yet you had touched him, and he didn’t even have to ask? You were strange, but as selfish as it might sound, he liked it.

Jungkook let himself slide down the door, the pleasure his hand was bringing made his knees weak. As much as he wanted to deny it, he wanted you again. He wished you were here right now to help ease the ache in both places. Would you, considering everything that had happened?

Jungkook hurriedly tried to shake those thoughts out of his head. No, you were back on his desk in his office. You noticed he was upset and came over to comfort him and make him feel better in any way you could. Your lips were on his, he was kissing you again and—

Fuck.

Jungkook briskly let go to quickly spit in his hand before hastily going back to fisting his length. Faster, he needed to make himself cum as fast as possible. The shakes were getting worse. He felt horrible, a failure, a disappointment, every flick just made him feel so fucking disgusted in himself, but it hurt too much to stop.

You on his desk, how it felt to have your hand wrapped around him, how it felt to be inside you—

There it is.

Jungkook let his mind reminisce in as much detail as he could remember. How it felt to finally be inside you, the sounds you made, how wet, tight, and warm you were— so fucking good. He wanted you again so badly, it should be criminal. He was married and he already messed up once, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it— you on the desk, your fucking sweet pussy wrapped around his aching length. 

Close, he was getting close.

Jungkook brought his other hand up to tightly hold it against his mouth once more. His moans were getting too loud and he feared Yuri would hear. He tried to speed it up even more. All he needed was a little longer. 

You, your hands, your lips, your warmth, your bunched-up skirt, your thigh-highs, your panties, your red lipstick smearing across his face. Oh. So close. 

And then, at last, the feeling deep down inside growing and growing until he finally spilled inside of you—

…

…

…

Wait… what?

Jungkook’s eyes suddenly shot open, the haunting darkness of the bathroom now an unwelcoming sight. An immediate, deep, visceral sense of panic and dread sunk in as he racked his brain in hopes he was overreacting or misremembering. 

Jungkook had tried to push the memories of that night as far away as possible over the last few days, but now that he was thinking about it properly…

That day… you both hadn’t used protection.

It’s not like he walked around with condoms, he had no need, but…

Suddenly the ache that seemed deafening became just a muffled, dull, fuzzy noise in the background as this realization dawned on him. 

How? How did he not realize you hadn’t used protection? No matter how needy he was with Yuri, he was always so careful in the rare times they went all the way. How did he fucking forget?!

Jungkook suddenly had the urge to run into a wall and hoped he would never wake up again. This entire week had already turned out to be one horrible nightmare. But as if his life wasn’t shitty enough before, suddenly it took a whole new turn. 

The shaking came back and was worse than ever. He was at a point where he was sure he would scream his lungs out, but Yuri would hate the noise. Jungkook felt dazed, the realization was the quickest way to kill the mood, and the fastest he’d ever lost a boner. 

After a while, he somehow found the strength to stand up again and open the door to the bedroom. Yuri had turned off the lights here too. The only light coming in was from the few that were turned on in the hallway and Yuri’s phone playing some type of video. It also didn’t take long for him to see that she had fallen asleep.

For a split second, he was sad she wasn’t awake. He needed someone to talk to, even if that involved telling her about the affair. He felt like he was seconds away from losing his mind. He probably already had at this point. How could he fucking forget protection?!

Despite his shakiness, Jungkook went over to Yuri’s side— the right if you were facing the bed— and walked over to turn off her phone.

She had a makeup ASMR video playing. Those always helped her sleep and she said she could learn a few things from them while she was awake. As gently as he could, he also took out her headphones and set them on the nightstand. His hands had been shaking so badly that he could hardly pause the video for her.

But as Jungkook made his way to his side— the left— the weight of his actions became even more unbearable.

Jungkook lifted the covers and got in bed, laying face down on the pillow. The fabric was soaked by his tears in a matter of seconds. 

How could things just keep getting worse?

•────•──────────•────•

You knew it would be awkward when you came into work. It was inevitable, considering what things were like the last time you saw each other. However, for your sake and Jungkook’s, you tried your best to ignore what had transpired and move on with your life, but that was easier said than done. 

The minute Jungkook dropped you off and you made it back up to your apartment, you were stuck in place as soon as you closed the door behind you. Time felt like it stood still and nothing around you moved, like space itself had stopped in order to greet you with an agonizing silence. It was to taunt you and let the thoughts of what you had just done fester, quickly gnawing away at your sense of self and your very being, leaving you to question the type of person you thought you were for your entire life. You couldn’t move, trying to process everything that happened. This couldn’t be real, right? 

This was Jeon Jungkook we’re talking about— the Jeon Jungkook who was the son of the CEO at the company you work at.

You pinched your arm so many times you were sure it was going to bruise in your attempt to wake yourself up. You were probably still fast asleep in your cozy bed, stuck in a dream that just wouldn’t end. Your sexual frustration had somehow managed to manifest into you dreaming about your late night meet-up with your boss ending with you sleeping together. All would be fine in the morning except for the fact you’d have to look him in the eye, knowing what your brain had conjured up the night before. It was embarrassing, but that honestly made more sense than everything being real and this night actually happening. 

You were sure you’d wake up at any moment, but your arm started to hurt, and you knew standing here probably wouldn’t do anything. You finally found the strength to move from the entryway and head to your room to start getting ready for bed. You showered, then laid down staring at your ceiling, just waiting for your eyes to shoot open and you’d see it was Tuesday, October 31st, all over again. 

Nothing… nothing happened. 

While the seconds ticked away, your hope was drowned out as you let your mind reminisce about what had happened earlier. The minute you opened the door, you could just see it on his face. He had looked so sad, a pain behind his eyes that made any sense of composure you maintained in front of him come crumbling down. You felt like you had to fix it. Your heart had nearly pounded out of your chest when you got close, holding your coats and his scarf. You didn’t know what you were thinking, pulling him close the way you did, but then his hands were on your waist, and— You flipped over, feeling your face grow warm. 

But that didn’t help whatsoever, because it was like a floodgate had opened, and now you remembered how his lips felt against yours, his hurried hands across your burning skin, and most of all, how his… You spent nearly the entire night tossing and turning, bouncing back and forth between your guilt and shame for somehow getting yourself involved in this situation, to Jungkook and his stupid…

There was a scary part of you that was selfish, one that wished you had invited him upstairs. It had been so long since you’d been in the arms of another human being, that you forgot how much better the experience was. You’d never had sex like that before— it was desperate and emotional in a way you still couldn’t comprehend. The way Jungkook had held onto you, with tears streaming down his face, kept you close. You felt it in the way he kissed you, pleaded for you, the way he touched you. The way he touched you… it had been so long. 

Your tossing and turning had stopped at some point, your fight trying to get Jeon Jungkook out of your head had been lost, hard. The ache between your legs returned before you even realized, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop imagining the way his body felt against yours, his fingers inside you, or the slick glides of his cock through your wetness. 

It was just Jeon Jungkook no matter how hard you tried to close your eyes. You were too tired to fight against your hand traveling down into your shorts, and you nearly cried feeling how wet you were. It was a low moment, the entire night had been a low moment for you, but you let the thoughts fully consume you as your fingers glided between your soaked folds and settled on your clit, rubbing needy circles over the bud that was still a little sensitive from earlier. It was a horrible realization, but that just made your deluded self even more hot. It had been real.

You pictured him, you pictured the night you shared, you pictured the nights you didn’t share where he was just existing in your vicinity. You had no idea this part of you existed, the one where you thought Jeon Jungkook was so hot he could get you this riled up. You had known he was attractive, you had eyes, but the emotions had never let you see him like… that. The soft candle glow that had painted him so prettily, the way his sparkling eyes would look at you, how much you enjoyed the way he looked at you.

“Jungkook…” You whined with seemingly no shame. It was embarrassing, but you had never finished so fast with just your fingers. For a split second, as the bliss washed over you, you found yourself wishing he was here and questioning why of all people he had to be married. But as the high washed over you, all that was left in its wake was the starkness of shame. The guilt you felt as you tried bringing yourself back to earth. You had slept and now masturbated to a married man… Jungkook had a wife, and he was your boss. You thought you were better than this. 

Your eyes had filled with tears, and you spent the rest of the night crying your eyes out because what was wrong with you? You might have just ruined a family— your boss’s family, and who knows what might happen to you career-wise if someone were to find out.

You didn’t really sleep that night; you highly doubted you even got an hour before your alarm went off, and you had to get ready. That day was awful. As you expected yesterday, both Solmi and Taehyung didn’t come into work, probably too drunk from their night of fun to realize their alarms even went off. There was some part of you that was glad they weren’t here. You had been debating all night if you should tell your close friends about your night, but their absence was enough to remind you of your words to Jungkook last night.

It was a mistake, a fluke, it shouldn’t have happened, and you wouldn’t tell another soul so you both could easily pretend like nothing occurred that night. And seeing Jeon Jungkook again… 

Jimin had told you that Jungkook was going to be coming in late, and you couldn’t help the terror that spread throughout your body picturing why that might be. Your mind had drifted to the image of him on his knees begging his wife for a second chance, or maybe she’d kicked him out of the house, or maybe she was going to come after you for ruining their marriage. It felt like every scenario had run through your head by the time you had made it to the meeting room, waiting on him. 

You weren’t prepared at all when you glanced up from your computer at the sound of the door opening, for you to see him again. Your eyes met from across the room, and there was a second, a painful second where your minuscule amount of hope last night had just been a horny delusion that you could simply chastise your brain for making up later, died faster than you would have wanted. You could see it in the way his brows furrowed at you as soon as he met your eyes, that you knew last night had happened. 

He looked really good too… He was in a navy suit, missing a tie, instead a few buttons were undone, and his long hair messily fell around his face in a way that made him look ethereal. He looked like he had run his hands through it one too many times, yet somehow it just made him seem even more perfect. You swore you heard the pearly gates calling your name, the church bells sing, and… You wanted to scream. What were you thinking?! Immediately you decided to just try your best to ignore it, pushing him away was your only option in hoping things went back to normal— they needed to go back to normal. He had a wife, you had your career, you had to pretend it never happened. 

That’s how it needed to be after all. That day was a mistake; it shouldn’t have happened. The more you pretended it was that way, the easier it would be to move past this, the more you could forget, and the quicker things would go back to normal. But deep down, when you were alone, or you’d see him again— doing that was much harder than it needed to be. 

That night would come back to you in a flash. You’d wonder if he was doing okay, was he thinking about the night like you were, or were you just another girl he added to his roster of infidelity? You highly doubted it, just seeing the state he was in you didn’t think this was a normal occurrence, but who knows. There was some part of you that wanted to ask, however you had to keep your distance— at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You knew it was a little rude to almost flat-out ignore him like that, but addressing it would create an even bigger issue. So mean, rude, standoffish Y/n it was then. 

You could still feel his eyes on you anytime you were near each other. Part of you wanted to say something, but for some reason, you could never find it in yourself to tell him to stop staring. You were still mad. This whole thing made you angry and you knew your friends could sense the tension. Everyone in the office could but they probably didn’t question why. They all still thought you hated him after all.

You did… didn’t… you…? It was confusing then and ten times more confusing now. Still though, you tried to keep to yourself and ignore what happened. You thought you were doing a good job of it until you got an email that Friday.

From Director Jeon Jungkook,

can we talk??

It was informal, nothing about work was mentioned, and it was all too familiar with the Jungkook you had met during your late-night rendezvous… meeting! Yes, you were only there for one reason that night, and it was to get things ready for the budget presentation. Maybe this was his attempt at trying to be more comfortable with you. He did say all the formalities felt weird considering you were the same age. That had to be it!

As much as you wanted to delude yourself, deep down you knew whatever he emailed you for had something to do with that night. 

You let him know you’d come over during your lunch break, resisting the urge to tell him you didn’t want to talk about it. But you figured it had to be at least somewhat important for him to reach out. It better be. What part of pretending nothing happened between you two did he not understand?

That’s how you found yourself making your way through the halls to Jeon Jungkook’s office. You tried to be as inconspicuous as you could, turning every corner with ease and looking around anytime you’d hear footsteps behind you. Just being in the same vicinity made you feel like someone would find out what you both did.  

Your brain had rationalized that being seen together would surely be the obvious sign to everyone that you fucked your boss a few days ago. It made no sense whatsoever, you knew that, but still, you made sure to be as stealthy as you could on your way over.

You hoped no one saw you, and you were especially grateful when you passed Secretary Yu’s desk and she wasn’t there either. If you could make this quick, no one would realize you were ever here. 

Staring at the door, you found your heart beating out of control at the thought of facing him again. You knew you weren’t ready for this, you probably would never be, but it was still so soon after it happened…

It took you a second, but eventually you found the strength to knock before pushing open the door.

You were greeted by a similar sight as last time. His office was almost completely dark. He had kept the lights off and closed the blinds so only a sliver of light was peering into the room through the cracks. You could only make out a vague outline, but as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could finally make out Jungkook sitting at his desk. You could see his hands were in his hair, and the more closely you listened, the more you could hear his soft sniffles. Your first instinct was to run over to see what was going on, but you refrained as you steadily made your way over, only narrowly avoiding any furniture in the way. 

“Jungkook?” You called out, your heart nearly speeding out of your chest.

“Y/n…?” His voice sounded so strained.

“Yes, it’s me.” You tried to keep your tone flat, but it wavered slightly as you got closer.

With the confirmation it was you, Jungkook reached over to the lamp on his desk and finally turned on the light. You were shocked to see how disheveled he looked once the warm glow of the lamp hit his features. His hair looked like he had run his hands through it way too many times, his eyes were shot, his face was red, and tears stained his cheeks. 

Seeing him like this, it was hard to keep up your tough exterior. You quickly made your way over to his desk, keeping a notable distance between you two— standing behind the chairs sitting in front of his desk. You feared what might happen if you got any closer. 

“Um, you asked to speak with me.” This is how you’d usually talk whenever he’d call you to his office. Part of you was still holding onto the hope that this was just work related. 

You watched as a whole new wave of emotion seemingly hit Jungkook, fresh tears falling from his eyes as his hands returned to his hair. 

“I—um— I know we said we weren’t going to talk about that night, but… um—” Jungkook tried his best to be firm about this, but his whole world felt like it was coming down. He couldn’t sleep last night thinking about having this conversation with you, and now that you were here, it all felt too real.

“… I don’t remember using protection that night.” Jungkook was only able to meet your gaze for a second, long enough to see the look of shock on your face.

A whole new wave of guilt washed over him. This was all his fault.

“I know I didn’t have condoms with me, and unless you did and I didn’t realize you put one on, then…” Jungkook looked like he was pleading with you to tell him he forgot, that he was just so out of it he didn’t realize you had put one on some time in between. He had no reason to carry any with him personally. It’s not like he was expecting Yuri to fuck him in a place where he’d need to have them on him at all times— hell, they hardly used the condoms they kept at the apartment. Jungkook had never even managed to make it through a whole box without needing to replace them first because they’d expired. 

Still though, they were always so careful whenever they had sex. Jungkook spent the entire night mind-boggled at how he could have been so careless with you. And now, because he couldn’t control himself, there was a chance he might have ruined both of your lives. His own life was already shit, but now he might be bringing you down with him. He already had, but somehow the pit only grew deeper.

You sighed at the question— slightly relieved this was going to be easy to answer. 

“Don’t worry.” You remained apathetic, not exactly the emotional breakdown he expected considering the gravity of the situation. All night Jungkook had pictured that the minute he’d tell you, you would scream and curse at him for being so careless. It was almost uncanny how calm you were in comparison. You used the exact same tone whenever you’d talk to him about work, in the office when you had a quick question, or in front of the prying eyes of your nosy coworkers, like it was the most nonchalant thing ever. 

While your words were soothing, he couldn’t calm down quite yet.

“I’m on birth control, so as long as you’re clean we should be fine.” It took a minute for your words to register, but an immediate flush came to his cheeks. He completely forgot about birth control or that ever being a possibility of the invisible contraceptive he had prayed all night for. He felt even more embarrassed that he hadn’t considered you had some type of plan that night. Of course, you were smart, you wouldn’t let someone so pathetic ruin your life.

You watched his face, and you were honestly delighted to see a slight look of relief quickly settle over his soft, saddened features. You tried your best to hide it.

“Oh— I’m sorry. Of course you thought about it— good. We should be good then.” His voice was shaky, and while his words said one thing, he still seemed stressed for some reason as his hands were quickly back in his hair. 

Again, you had to resist the urge to ask him if he was ok. Distance, you had to keep this boundary up. You needed to get out of here.

“If you’re concerned about the other issue, I’ll make sure to pick up a morning-after pill or something on my way home just to ensure we’re fine,” you added, and he slowly nodded. Honestly, even if he hadn't said yes, you probably would have gone anyway just to be safe. You should have done it sooner, but you completely forgot about that detail while trying to push Tuesday out of your mind. 

“It’s up to you…” He mumbled, but he still seemed off. You had to get out of here.

“If that’s all then, I’ll be on my way sir—” You bowed, trying to be as polite as possible, before turning around and heading for the door.

“Wait!” You couldn’t even take two steps before he was calling you back. You visibly tensed up as you slowly turned around. You were greeted with his shiny brown eyes finally meeting your own for the first time since you walked in. Suddenly you felt your knees start getting weak. There was no reason for him to look at you like that.

“Don’t leave… that’s not all I wanted to say…” You could see in the way he looked at you that this was going to be the conversation you feared when you walked in. You resisted the urge to mention that you both agreed not to speak about it, but instead you just crossed your arms, ready to listen.

“I— um… I owe you a major apology…” He stumbled and his hands were back in his hair.

“That night— I don’t know what was wrong with me— it shouldn’t have happened, you were right.” He stopped for a second, and you wondered what he was trying to get at. What more was there to say? It really shouldn’t have happened.

“But…” Jungkook’s voice wavered as he looked up at you. “I’m even more sorry that despite how wrong I know it was I—” he took a deep breath “I can’t stop thinking about that night.” He truly felt bad. Here he was, trying his best to put his mistake behind him, yet all it did was fill his thoughts. Where was the guilt? Why wasn’t he so ashamed that just the thought of you was enough to remind him of what he’d done?

He saw your hard expression falter for a second, but it was back before he even realized. Jungkook felt like he was at his wits end. Everything was crashing down, and he didn’t have much to lose at this point. 

“And now all I can think about is…” tears quickly filled his eyes knowing what he was about to say “— how I want to do it again so, so badly… it had never felt that good before.” It was a sad, deep, dark confession that he hated as soon as it came out of his mouth. Admitting it was nice was one thing, but wanting to do it again was another.

Maybe you could excuse that night as a one-time thing— he was a mess, you both had some wine, and shit happened before you both could even realize. It was nonsense, Jungkook didn’t drink nearly enough to say he was acting against his own volition, and it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision either. He had thought about having you against every surface in the office before anything actually happened. He’d wanted you nearly as long as you’d worked here.

Jungkook finally had to look away from you as his words settled in the air.

“Jungkook… you know what continuing, even just acknowledging what happened— you know what that would mean…?” You were honestly baffled and you hated the way your heart nearly beat out of your chest at the mention of it.

“Yes.” It was so quiet, and with the faint glow of his lamp you could see a new wave of tears start running down his cheeks. 

“That night— it was all my fault...” His voice was shaky just thinking about it. 

“I told you that I’m in an arranged marriage and that things are rough right now… it’s my fault, everything is my fault.” It certainly was.

“Despite the circumstances we got married in, we both agreed to try to make our relationship work, and I’ve just kept messing things up no matter how hard I tried to make her happy.” It’s been nearly four years and he could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d made her smile.

“She hates me, and I don’t blame her at all— I honestly deserve it and more.” He deserved far worse at this point.

“Why would your wife hate you?” You couldn’t help but ask, but you regretted it as soon as it left your mouth. The fact you had somehow found yourself in this situation proved that something wasn’t right. But the question had bounced around in your head for the past few days, wondering what might be splitting the couple to the point Jungkook sought you out for relief.

He looked at you for a split second. “I don’t know how to be a good husband. No matter what I do, I don’t know how to make her happy like I should.” He attested with a level of pain in his voice that you weren’t prepared for. 

“Jungkook…” You were speechless… a deep, unsettling, uneasy feeling spread throughout your body as you listened. You had zero insight into the situation, but despite everything, it felt wrong to hear him be so down on himself. It was heartbreaking to listen to.

“I don’t think you deserve to be hated—” You tried to console, but Jungkook stopped you before you could finish.

“No… she deserves a better husband— a different one— someone who can make her happy, and I should just… just disappear— I can’t do anything right.” He tried to laugh but it just came out like a pained sob. It wasn’t funny and he couldn’t even pretend to laugh at that anymore.

“Jungkook—”  You called out again, but he stopped you in your tracks. 

“I hope you believe me when I say that that night was the first time something like that happened.” His shiny eyes looked up at you again, and you could have broken down right then and there. The pain, you could see it so clearly.

“I despise cheating and the fact that— that— that night happened, I just—” He couldn’t be more disappointed in himself. He’d forever tainted his marriage, just like his parents had done.

Even if Yuri never found out, the fear of her somehow discovering what he did one day… the guilt would kill him. Their anniversary was coming up in a few months— how could he look her in the eyes and relive the moments of their wedding day knowing he betrayed their vows, her trust, knowing that she had every reason to leave him?

Maybe one day he could finally get his shit together and Yuri could love him the way he’d always dreamed, but that would all come crashing down one day when she somehow found out what he did. 

Jungkook at least thought he was above that. The one thing he knew he could promise Yuri was that he’d always be by her side, faithfully and earnestly, yet he’d found a way to fuck that up too.

There really was no happy ending for him, was there?

“I’m sorry— it shouldn’t have happened, and I feel horrible bringing you into my mess.”

You wanted to say that you were equally to blame, but Jungkook was faster.

“And— and I just… I’m sorry— we agreed to try and move on from this but I just can’t stop thinking about you and that night and—” It wasn’t even funny how much he thought about you. Right before you walked in, he had the lights off to hide his shame because even in the middle of what he thought was a crisis, all he could think about was you on his desk. And seeing you now standing in front of him…

“I’m sorry…” Jungkook just cried. He really didn’t have the words to describe how he felt right now. 

“I spoke to a therapist about it.” Jungkook could instantly see the slight panic on your face at the mention of him telling someone about this. “I took your advice from that night about talking to someone. I really wasn’t in a good place at all, and if I hadn’t, I think I might have gone crazy. He was supposed to help me and Yuri with the issues in our marriage, but he’s helped me with more than just my relationship. Don’t worry. Yuri won’t find out.” Jungkook had full trust that the doctor wouldn’t tell Yuri about the affair. Even though their conversation wasn’t protected by doctor-patient confidentiality, he still knew the doctor wouldn’t say anything. He was expecting that Jungkook was going to tell her on his own time. 

You were a little taken aback by the news, but your memory of that night was clear. You knew when you parted ways that he really didn’t seem okay. The fact that it was a therapist he confided in made you relax a little.

“I went to him for a slap on the face, but instead he said— he said I should consider stepping away from Yuri for a little while and take the time to try and figure out what I want in life. But I can’t— I want her, and I want to make our marriage work somehow.” Jungkook was in tears again. He didn’t want to give up on his marriage yet. He couldn’t give up, so many people were counting on him to make this work.

“But I can’t think straight. I’m always so frustrated and you’re always in my head— I know I could be better— it’s not an excuse, I should be better, but—” What was he even saying?

“That night was— it never felt that good before— you were there for me, and despite how much of a mess I was, you—” Why? The question had never run through his head until now, but what could have possibly been your reason for being there with him that night? You were too nice. His thoughts were running a million miles an hour. He honestly couldn’t think clearly anymore.

“And your clothes— I’m sorry about that, I’m so sorry— it had— it had been ten months since I last, you know… but that’s not an excuse. I’m sorry, I should have been better.” He should have been. Imagine how disappointed Yuri would be if she knew. 

“Ten months?” This conversation had gone all over the place, but you couldn’t hide your shock at this piece of news. You had just let him rant, not wanting to interrupt to give him the chance to get whatever he needed off his chest, but you just couldn’t hide your reaction. 

Ten months was certainly not normal, especially considering he was married and had no kids to take up his free time after work. Suddenly, things started making a little more sense.

“It’s my fault— it’s all my fault— I’m not a good husband, I should have been able to wait longer if I had to— or maybe she would have wanted me sooner if I was better.” If he was better he wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place. 

There were some things that Jungkook said that made your skin crawl. It was possible his whole spiel could be some convoluted way into excusing what happened between you two, but then he said statements like that that would make alarm bells go off in your head. That certainly wasn’t right. 

“But I want to be better. I want to make things right, and I just feel like I can’t do that when all I can think about is—” Jungkook didn’t finish, instead letting a pained sigh say everything he couldn’t. 

“And I know it’s pathetic, but I wanted your help—” There it was, what’s been on his mind since that night. “Maybe you could tell me what I could do better— how to make her happy, what I’m lacking. And I just can’t stop thinking about you—” He looked up at you with those shiny, round eyes that made it so hard to say no.

And there it was, exactly what you feared when you walked in. 

So much was happening, so many emotions thrown at you that you were tempted to take a seat in the chair in front of you to sit down and process it all. You tried your best to remove all emotion from this, to look at this as objectively as you could, but with Jungkook right in front of you and hearing everything he said—

You knew something was wrong from the minute you walked into your first meeting together, but you could have never predicted just how bad things were. You had no idea what went on behind closed doors. Maybe things really might be as bad as Jungkook said, but the hurt, pain, and desperation he spoke with made the wall you tried putting up impossible to keep from crashing down.

It took you back to Mi-Sun once again. You remembered talking to her in class sometimes and how she would spin every inconvenience into her doing. She always emphasized how it was her fault the other girls would tease her as much as they did. You didn’t understand it then, but Jungkook’s admissions almost felt like a repeat of what happened all those years ago, and you knew how that story ended.

“It’s my fault.” She had said so aimlessly as she stared out the window you both sat by.

“How is it your fault?!” You’d questioned, maybe a little too harshly. You couldn’t believe her words, considering you knew she had never done anything wrong. The girls were rude, you had no idea why, but Mi-Sun had been their target since you both made it to high school. 

She should have known this, and it just made you angry. “They’re the problem, they have always been the problem. They’re rude just because they can be, and for some reason, no one is doing anything to stop it, and—”

“Y/n, just look at me!” You had turned to your friend, her eyes teary, and you should have seen it sooner. “It’s all my fault.” She softly cried before you pulled her into your arms. 

You didn’t see it then, and the way Jungkook spoke now made you feel like you were back in high school, in class, right by the window you both would always sit by as Mi-Sun stared out, the light shining in her eyes growing dimmer as each day passed. 

“Jungkook… you know what continuing would mean…” You looked at him worriedly.

You saw the tears run down his cheeks again as he slowly nodded his head. 

“If anyone were to find out about that night, we could maybe just say we had too much to drink, it was late, or you could even mention your breakdown. Doing anything more would truly turn this into cheating. We’d have no excuses at that point.” Your eyes were sad as you noticed his expression grow more pained.

“And since you’re still trying to make things work with your wife— I just don’t think that’s the smartest idea. If we leave things where they’re at now, it would give us our best chance of going back to normal and putting the whole thing behind us.” 

You could see the consequences coming from a mile away. You knew there would only be trouble going forward. You certainly weren’t a homewrecker by any means. You didn’t want to be the reason things came crashing down.

Jungkook steadily nodded.

“I probably look pathetic right now— I’m sorry, I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you or anything considering—” Jungkook was your boss… or well, technically your boss’s boss, but the dynamic was still a little strange. It was all strange. This whole situation was strange. 

But it felt like you were with Mi-Sun all over again. You didn’t see the signs then, but Jungkook was right in front of you. You had the chance to help someone in a way you couldn’t help your friend in high school. What might happen if you just walked away from this now? A repeat? Or maybe something even worse. 

“You don’t look pathetic, and I know you’re not forcing me… it’s just… things are going to get really complicated if we decide to do this.”

The vagueness of your statement was intentional— it’s not like you were saying no, because you weren’t. You really didn’t want to get involved in this, but seeing Jungkook so low… You didn’t think he was pathetic, however hearing him rant like this was just painful. Things weren’t right, and finding out your night together made him feel even the slightest bit better made you want to help him in any way you could. You hated seeing the dark cloud storming over him and his sad, tired gaze anytime you’d meet his eyes. It was difficult to watch, and as reckless as it was, you wanted to do anything to take away his pain just like you had wished you could’ve taken Mi-Sun’s pain away.

Jungkook visibly picked up on the fact that you didn’t outright say no, and part of you hated seeing the glimmer of hope in his eyes. This really was a bad idea to even entertain the idea of continuing, but at the same time, it was nice to see his gloom wash away, if only for a second. But that moment only lasted for a second before his expression suddenly changed into something darker, somehow even more disturbed.

“I promise I'll be good.” It was an odd choice of words that immediately caught you off guard. 

“I’ll stay in line, I won’t ask for anything in return. I’ll wait until you want me. I promise I’ll be good, I promise.” It was his last-ditch effort to convince you. He was almost pleading with you. You couldn’t help but look at him strangely, wondering what he meant by that.

“I’ll be good— I have to be good— I don’t want to disappoint you either.” Things had truly taken a turn. Jungkook's expression grew more pained by the second, the cloud that hovered around him stormed with a concerning ferocity. 

“I’ll be good— I promise— I promise I’ll wait.” Jungkook was slipping off an edge you didn’t see coming. The tears so easily slipped past his eyes, an uneasiness behind his desperate gaze. For some reason, you knew deep down this wasn’t coming from nowhere, especially after hearing his rant earlier…

“What do you mea—” But you couldn’t finish your sentence. The wave had already come crashing down over him, and you saw Jungkook fall to pieces first-hand. Even in the subtle light, you could see he was shaking.

“I’ll wait, I’ll wait if you want me to— as long as you need me to— I’ll be good— I promise!” He looked you in the eye, but for some reason you felt like he was looking right through you.

“I don’t want to disappoint you— I’ll be good— I have to be good— I have to— I’ll wait— I promise I’ll wait!” This had turned into a full-blown meltdown. You could see it in the look in his eyes. Something was on his mind, and it was tearing him apart. As much as you wanted to remain as neutral as possible, you couldn’t just stand there anymore and watch this. You quickly made your way around his desk so you were standing right beside him. His hands were back in his hair and his rambling had nearly turned incoherent.

In the low light you could see his hands trembling, and you quickly had to stop the tears from pouring out at that point. You couldn’t imagine what he must have gone through to make him so upset. If this was all a ruse then he deserved to be in Hollywood, but even suggesting that this might be a trick just felt beyond cruel. He was clearly struggling…

“Jungkook— please— please look at me.” You tried to remain calm, but your voice wavered in the middle.

“I’ll be good!” You could barely make his words out through the sobs. 

“Jungkook… please look at me…” You gently tapped him on the shoulder. You were a little calmer this time, and that finally had him turning to face you, breaking him out of his trance.

He was finally looking up at you with his big, round, sad eyes, and your heart nearly broke in two when you saw his lip quiver slightly. He seemed so innocent, yet so broken, and you just wanted to fix him somehow.

You brought your hand up to lightly cup his cheek— they were wet, so, so wet, and as you moved his hair out his face, you could feel the tips had grown damp. Tears steadily continued to pour onto your fingers, but you tried your best to wipe them away. You also didn’t miss the way he practically careened into your warmth.

Such a pretty boy shouldn’t cry like this.

“I’ll wait…” He muttered as he looked at you. This time you knew he was talking to you.

“What do you mean you’ll wait?” You asked gently as you continued to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“As long as you need me to… weeks, months, years. I’ll wait until you want me.” Something about the way he said this, the pain in his voice made it that much more heartbreaking. Weeks were already crazy, but months, years? For some reason, the strain in the way he said this along with what he mentioned earlier, made you think this went deeper than his breakdown.

“I’ll be good, I promise— I’ll wait— I can’t disappoint you too.” He sobbed into your hands. Too? No, this wouldn’t do.

“Jungkook, what do you want?” You asked, looking him directly in the eyes. Your question visibly confused him at first, which just made you feel bold enough to go a step further. You looked toward the door before looking back down at him. 

“Are you expecting anyone here any time soon?” 

Confusedly, he shook his head. “It’s lunch right now— Secretary Yu went out to get something to eat and I don’t have any appointments.”

At this news, you let go of his pretty face and grabbed the end of your skirt. It was tight, so you pulled it up slightly before taking a seat right on his lap. You paid close attention to the look on his face, and you saw the panic before you felt it. His confusion turned into worry as he looked down at where you were sitting. He knew you could feel it, a surprise you had not expected when you sat down. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll wait, I promise!” He seemed panicked as he looked at you. His hands hovered over your waist, too scared to push anything further.  He said he’d wait, but he was hard underneath you.

Jungkook’s thoughts had been filled with you even before you walked in. They always were whenever he was in his office these days, the memories returning so vividly as he’d stare at his desk where it happened. 

“I can wait, I promise!” He tried to defend, but his brain was already starting to get fuzzy just from having you on his lap. 

“Jungkook, what do you want?” You asked again, wrapping your arms around his neck. He was tense, but you felt him momentarily grab ahold of your waist and pull you a little closer. It would be so easy to kiss him like this.

“I…” His eyes struggled to meet your own. You were so close. He wanted to look and touch everywhere, but he had to think about you. 

“I want to be good— I promise I’ll wait—” He had tears in his eyes as he stared down at where your bodies met. 

“Mmm…. Is that so?” You looked down and you wondered what he meant about waiting. Clearly he needed something now, you could feel it right underneath you. 

Jungkook shakily nodded.

“Until you want me, I’ll wait.” For a second, you ran his proposed arrangement through your head. What kind of affair would that be? Not that you thought about it before, but who’s ever heard of an affair where the guy is at the beck and call of the person he’s cheating with?

It was even more reason to believe he really hadn’t done anything like this before. Something wasn’t right.

“But what do you want?” Again, you asked because you wanted to hear it, but you felt like he needed to say it to himself even more. You could almost see the fear in his eyes as your question lingered. You could feel him shaking underneath you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about… or who.

“To be good…” His eyes only met yours for a second before they trailed down your body. His words were saying one thing, but his eyes were telling you another. Maybe you should help him out a little.

When you started getting closer, Jungkook thought you were going to kiss him. Maybe he wished you did, but what you ended up doing was even more unexpected. Your face grazed past his own and suddenly your lips were brushing against his neck. 

“Oh…” Jungkook felt his cheeks warm, and his hands were gripping your waist before he could stop them. 

You didn’t tease him for long, instead planting gentle, light, feathery kisses along his burning skin. His brain was shot the minute you stepped close, but like this, he was fighting so hard to stop himself from pulling you closer. You felt so good against him, so good, and it was already so hard.

“Y/n…” It came out like a whine and he didn’t mean it to. His eyes were watery, it hurt so much.

“Mhmm” Your voice was soft and—

“Y/n— I’ll wait— I promise, but I’m weak, and please— if you don’t want this… just please go easier on me.” Jungkook finally just cried. This was Yuri all over again. He didn’t want to disappoint you too, not another person. He didn’t need another person to hate him.

“But what about what you want?” You scooted closer, inches away from where he wanted you the most. He thought this would be the moment you’d get off, where you’d tell him to stop crying and scold his very existence. But you didn’t.

Your kisses slowed and you lingered on his skin for longer, lightly sucking spots you somehow discovered were sensitive. Jungkook gripped your hips hard, and he couldn’t stop himself from rutting up into you. It hurt so much, and Jungkook wanted nothing more than to touch you. This was just cruel.

“Y/n…” Jungkook cried, unable to stop the tears from spilling over.

You pulled back enough to see his face. You saw the tears and quickly leaned forward to kiss his cheek. He stared at you wide-eyed, still with that pained look on his face.

“Jungkook, you keep asking what I want, but I want to hear from you. What do you want?” You asked again, softly. You were pressing buttons he didn’t know he had. Why were you being so cruel?

A choked sob left his lips as he held onto your waist tightly. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this. 

Like you were sensing his struggle, you leaned in again and started planting languid kisses along his neck. He didn’t have much resilience anyway, paper-thin might even be an exaggeration with the way he was feeling. You were too close and he was too needy, the days of longing making it impossible to think straight, to resist like he knew he should.

“Y/n…” It came out as a moan as you subtly moved your hips against him. This was a warning, a warning that you clearly ignored because your pace grew faster with each glide of your hips.  Tears poured harder from his eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked when he still hadn’t said anything. 

Jungkook felt his body react faster than his mind did. His arms came up and tightly wrapped around your frame. The thought of you leaving when he felt like he was seconds away from exploding made him panic. 

You were pulled flush against his chest before you could even realize.

“I want you so bad— it hurts so much— please don’t leave me.” He sounded exasperated. He was shaking around you as you could feel the tears running down his face and hitting your cheek.

Shame washed over him as his words settled in the air. He was begging. How sad and pathetic he must have looked. He was all too sure that he’d already ruined things with you. 

You seemed to sense he was spiraling, so you were quick to press gentle kisses up his neck, across his jawline, and steadily made your way across his cheek to settle right beside his quivering lips. 

His sniffling grew quieter as you worked. Instead, soft moans that he was trying to hold back grew stifled and needier. When you made it to his lips, there was a moment of hesitation. But it was truly only for a moment as Jungkook didn’t allow for anymore, finally closing the distance between you.

It happened so fast, you both nearly bumped heads at the speed he moved, and you weren’t prepared for how vigorous his kiss was. Jungkook kissed you like his life depended on it, and in some sense, you feared it really did. 

You were quick getting into it though, matching his rhythm until your lips were moving together in sync. It just felt so right. 

That same warmth Jungkook felt deep down in his chest on that fateful night was back with an overwhelming force. He could have cried— scratch that, he was crying, but for an entirely different reason. 

Your lips were so soft, and with your arms wrapped around him… for a second, all the pain washed away. There was no one else in the world, no worries, it was just you and him together, alone in his office. This felt right in every way possible, and he couldn’t get you close enough. 

The kiss was wet, hot, and you were so needy your body felt like it might burst into flames within a split second. It was destructive and consumed you both so quickly that you had no chance of coming to your senses. This was a bad idea, but you’d think about that later. Instead, you eagerly ground down onto him, making him softly moan into your lips. 

His hands rested on your waist, and you could feel his fleeting attempts to touch you more, but it was like something was holding him back. You pulled away and he really was too pretty, your lipstick was all over his face, his lips shiny and stained red.

“Do you want this?” He suddenly asked, out of breath. For a second his question didn’t even register, because what?

“I don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you into this. I’ll wait, you could even walk away entirely if you aren’t comfortable doing this.” He spoke with round, sad eyes like he really was concerned. But you could still feel him throbbing underneath you. How he was this hard over a little teasing… you honestly worried for his pants at how well you could feel his aching length. 

“Jungkook…” You sighed, lifting your hand to move his messy bangs away from his eyes. You could see his face a little better and it hurt seeing how red it was, stained with tears, and a sad look behind his dark gaze. 

You leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before moving your lips right by his ear. 

“Would I be in your lap otherwise?” So soft and sultry in his ear. And he moaned, not holding back at all, completely forgetting you both were still in a public setting. He could have cum just from that alone. But he didn’t care, he was seconds away from losing his mind if something didn’t happen soon.

And then you were back to peppering kisses along his neck, this time going full force at sucking at the skin. 

“Ahhh! Y/n— please!” He hissed, letting the tears fall from his eyes. He was going to explode, he was going to explode, please, please just touch him. 

Jungkook didn’t wait for you to progress things further. He couldn’t find it in himself to be patient. Instead, his hands quickly moved down your waist, the arch of your back, and settled onto the curve of your ass, groping and feeling with a hurried need. 

The motion made you gasp, easily allowing him to slip his tongue inside. It was completely unexpected, especially considering how timid he’d been acting so far, you definitely weren’t prepared. He was the one in control now. It was his tongue that was exploring every inch of your mouth fervently. It was hot and heavy, with a desperation you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager. Your hands cupped his cheeks before tightly tangling in his hair, somehow trying to pull him closer. It was this antsy, erupting feeling. You both hidden away from the world while you tried your best to contain yourselves in a public setting. You could feel his excitement through his suit pants which he tried to hide while pulling you closer at the same time. 

“Oh fuck.” He softly moaned into the kiss as your hands found their rightful place in his long, dark hair. You pulled and tugged on the strands, enjoying the soft whines of pleasure Jungkook let out underneath you. 

It was happening so fast, yet not fast enough. Any time you attempted to pull away, he held you closer in his arms. It was hard to keep up, but you weren’t prepared for the heat to consume you so quickly, you felt like you were doused in gasoline. It was insane, and you wanted so much more with each brush of his lips against yours.

You were so in the moment that you weren’t prepared for his hands to go lower, slipping under your skirt to hastily pull it up around your waist. For a moment, it didn’t even register until you began to feel the cold breeze against the newly exposed skin. It was at this that you finally pulled away. 

For a brief moment, Jungkook tried to stop you, but then you felt the building confidence quickly leave his body as he realized something was wrong. He stared up at you, the shininess in his eyes returning all too quickly.

“I—I’m sorry…” His voice was shaking.

“Don’t apologize—”

“I’ll wait, I’m sorry. I’m rushing things, I’m sorry…” It’s like he wasn’t listening all over again as he shakily tried to pull your skirt back down. 

It was then that you realized how this might have looked. 

“It’s not that— it’s just… I know it’s a little hard to forget, but we’re in public… in your office.” You pointed out, and you saw Jungkook’s face grow red as he looked around. It seemed like he really did forget where you were.

“I’m sorry—” He cried, letting go of you entirely. 

“No— we don’t need to stop. Going all the way might not be the best idea, especially in a room without a lock, but I was thinking we could do something a little quicker.” You smiled gently at him. Jungkook was visibly confused at this, so you took this as your cue to slip off his lap and onto your knees right in front of him. 

“Will this work for you?” You smiled up at him mischievously, hoping he got the picture. But for some reason he still was staring down at you with those round eyes that made him look so innocent and… confused?

“What are you doing?” His voice was so small. Your hand was resting on his lap, so close to where he wanted you, and just— why did you have to get off of him?

It was your turn to be confused. 

“You know…” You lightly laughed, thinking this might be some type of joke, but Jungkook still maintained the same perplexed gaze. It was then that your face dropped. Suddenly the possibility of him actually being confused ran through your head.

“You do know what a blowjob is, right?” You were a bit blunt, but honestly you were expecting him to laugh at you. A funny joke in the heat of the moment to make you smile, but instead of the giggle you were expecting, you suddenly watched him get flustered.

“Right…?” You asked again, growing weary. 

“Uh— I do— did? I didn’t think they were a real thing people actually do…” His voice just grew smaller as he looked down at you. He quickly got the picture that wasn’t normal.

You immediately had so many questions. You were the same age, yet….? How, how did this happen? Did someone tell him that? No guy would ever think that without some type of influence. That also meant he probably wasn’t the most experienced, as far as partners go, because you highly doubt people came into his life and never once tried sucking his dick or at least offered. The other day Jungkook did mention he’s only been with his wife, and an uneasy shudder ran through your body as you mentally started connecting the dots. 

“Um— Jungkook, if you’re not comfortable, we could—” 

“No, please! Please don’t stop— I… please…” He cried, grabbing onto your hand that was sitting in his lap, but immediately he was horrified in himself, realizing he was begging again. Yuri always hated that so much. 

“I mean— I mean…” His eyes grew watery. “It just hurts so much…” Jungkook wanted to fuck you on top of his desk again, he was only a moment away from picking you up and doing just that. 

“If you’re comfortable, I won’t stop.” You gave him a warm smile, careful not to frighten or overwhelm him, along with a gentle, reassuring squeeze to his thigh to keep him relatively calm.

Jungkook subtly, but not so subtly, tried to move himself closer to your hand. He was hardly paying attention, his mind completely enthralled with needing some type of relief. He’d take anything at this point.

“Jungkook?” You questioned when he still hadn’t responded.

“P-Please…!” He stammered out, seeing how close your hand was. Just a little closer and he could…

You looked down and noticed his efforts, making you chuckle. “Alright then, I’ll be quick. Just let me know when you’re close.”

Again, he wasn’t paying as much attention as he should, but suddenly his eyes went wide as you lightly began running your hands up his thighs. Jungkook moaned at the touch as you ran over the very obvious outline in his slacks. Anything at this point felt so intense. He just needed more.

You were quick to give him just that. As you reached up to start undoing his belt, he finally had to look away, knowing what was coming next. 

You went a little slow, not to just tease him, but to give him a chance to turn back if he got uncomfortable at any moment. You were too fascinated by how tiny his waist looked to notice his growing panic.

Jungkook wanted to scream when you started to unzip his pants— he wanted more, but he was terrified. As he felt you pull him out from his underwear, his eyes grew watery, not needing to look down to feel your gaze. You were staring at him. 

Things were different from the last time. While he had the blinds closed and the lights were low, he knew there was still more than enough light to see him. A wave of anxiety washed over him faster than a tsunami, the dread of your judgment completely taking him out of the moment. He’d only been with two people before. The fear of it not looking right or not being up to your standards was still very real and alive. Maybe that was the reason Yuri didn’t want him, and you have probably experienced so much better— you deserve so much better than anything he could give you— 

His thoughts were spiraling, but you were quick to step in once again, noticing he’d grown tense underneath you. 

You directed your attention to his length that you had firmly grasped in your hand. You marveled at being able to see it in its full glory unlike last time. It was pretty and practically had you drooling, leaving you more than excited to see how it feels in your mouth. It was firm in your grasp and it curved slightly towards the flaming red tip, and you had to stop yourself from moaning at the delicious vein running along the side. 

You stared, maybe for too long, at the way it bopped at the slightest movements and gently started leaking precum onto your hand, steadily dripping to create a small puddle that ran down your skin. Staring wasn’t the right thing to do considering how self-conscious he seemed ,and it took you way too long to look up and see his attention on the ceiling with wet streaks running down his cheeks.

“You’re so pretty, don’t you know that?” You smiled as you slowly started to pump his length. The action was enough to make Jungkook look down at you, moaning at your words, and fuck— The sight was enough to send him to a new dimension and back. You had moved closer so your face was right by where he needed you, and you were touching him so well—

“Y/n…” It was a hushed sob. Any louder and he was scared he’d scream. His tears were now streaming for an entirely different reason. It was quick and all these emotions were swirling around in his head. It was too much and he wanted you to stop it.

Your strokes were slow, but it really didn’t take much. It had been too long, too much running away and edging; he just wanted relief.

“Y/n—” He cried again, this time more desperate. He was shaking.   

You put him out of his misery only slightly as you used your thumb to rub over the slit and marveled at the way more precum continued to leak over your finger with each swipe.

“Oh— fuck.” He whined, shifting around so you’d touch him more. His hands were balled into tight fists as he watched you, knuckles turning white in the process. Part of him wanted to look away in shame, but you commanded his attention in a way that he couldn’t turn anywhere else. 

You met his shameful gaze as you looked up at him with glistening eyes, and Jungkook hated how much he wanted to ruin you all over again. Leave you a mess so his colleagues could see how horrible he was. 

Jungkook was on edge and you had barely touched him. You could tell he was growing antsy, so you finally moved so that you were mere centimeters away from his pleading cock. The sight alone could have made him cum. You, staring up at him with eager, excited eyes, and as he looked down at you, a guttural sound escaped his lips before he could catch it. 

There was only a moment of hesitation, a moment that dragged on for eternity. With your gaze, you were waiting to see if he had any doubts about continuing, but Jungkook held on with bated breath, giving no signs of wanting to stop. 

He was a little confused… no, that wasn’t right… anxious? He hardly had a clue what to expect. He knew what a blowjob was… kinda? He knew what they were from videos he saw when he was younger, but everyone always talked about how exaggerated they were. He had no idea what a real blow job was like and what to expect. How long had it been since the thought even crossed his mind? He couldn’t remember anymore.

Jungkook was in his head again, but the very sudden feeling of your tongue quickly swiping across the tip briskly jolted him back into the moment, making him nearly jump out of his chair. 

Oh.

He didn’t even realize he had said it out loud, and at a volume that was far too loud, until the soft sounds of your chuckles got his attention. 

“Can’t be too loud~” You smiled, and Jungkook felt his whole body set ablaze with an inferno he wasn’t prepared for in the slightest. 

“Just let me know when you’re close—” you reminded him once again. He wondered if you could tell he wouldn’t last long. You would be right. “Sit back, relax. I’ll take care of you.” You smiled. 

Jungkook had to take a moment to stare at you. Your eyes shone from his desk lamp, your lipstick had already started to smear across your lips from your heated activities earlier, and your hair grew more disheveled by the second. Your invitation to relax and let you essentially take care of him made shivers run up his spine, and he couldn’t nod for you to continue any faster. 

He listened to your advice and finally leaned back in his office chair, waiting for you to have your way with him. The moment he got more comfortable, you were back on him, his cock in hand as you leaned in once again to give a teasing lick to the tip. 

Ohhhhhh—

He didn’t mean to, but you were teasing him too much. You probably thought it was pathetic how he practically chased after your mouth when you pulled away. It wasn’t long before you were back though, slowly swirling your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty precum that continued to leak with each swipe of your tongue, while looking intently at his antsy reactions.

“Ahhhh! Please—” Jungkook had tears in his eyes as he pleaded for you. He felt like he was going to lose his mind. This, fuck— this—

He probably had imprints on his hands from his nails at how tightly he had balled up his fists. Jungkook looked down at you, not wanting to rush you or beg, but he felt like he was at his limit.

Finally, you put him out of his misery. It came unexpectedly. Your gentle licks turned into you engulfing the tip with your mouth. You were slow. You didn’t want to overwhelm him considering this was meant to be his first time.

“Oh, fu—” Jungkook quickly covered his mouth. His fist tightened to the point he could feel his nails digging into his skin. His tears finally spilled as the overwhelming pleasure washed over him as you tried to take more of him down. It was new, a euphoria he had never experienced before, seeing you on your knees pleasing him, taking him so well… it was too sinful to be allowed. And you just kept going, further and further down and—

“Wai—oh my go—” Jungkook tried to whisper, but he was way too loud. He was going to cum. It was like he was suddenly pushed to the edge. He knew he was close, but not that close. 

“Oh—” He moaned. Your mouth was so warm, wet, and inviting. It reminded him too much of the fleeting memory of what it felt like to be inside you. Jungkook quickly had to shut his eyes, focusing all his concentration on not having this end so soon after you just started. The embarrassment— he couldn’t do that to you. But—

“Fuck!”

You went as far as you could before steadily easing back and popping off him to see how he took it. You knew he had been shaking, but you weren’t prepared for his look of distress. 

“You ok?” You lightly chuckle, caressing his thigh— and, woah, were you in for a surprise feeling how firm they were. How much did this boy work out?

You watched as tears slipped from his eyes. “Umm-mm-m,” his voice was shaky as he finally opened his eyes to look at you.

“Can— can you go slow? I won’t make it two seconds otherwise…” He was quiet and sounded out of breath already. His round cheeks were flushed and he could barely look you in the eye.

“It’s all about you. Don’t worry about it too much. Like I told you, sit back and relax. You can let go whenever you’re ready.” You smiled. All you wanted him to do was relax and enjoy it. He seemed so tense, he always seemed so tense. You couldn’t imagine what he must be going through for him to practically be in pieces, always on the verge of tears any time you’d just look at him.

Even now… You finally noticed his tightly balled fist, and he just seemed so tense— too tense for someone who was about to get sucked off. You quickly wrapped one hand around his length again and used the other to grab one of his fists and place it on your head. 

You didn’t want him to think too much, so you quickly took him into your mouth again. He must have understood what you meant because his hand was suddenly in your hair, and electricity ran through your body at the satisfying moan he let out. It was loud, almost like it was meant for anyone to hear. For a moment, you forgot you were in his office in the middle of everyone’s lunch break. That anyone could walk in at any time if you weren’t careful. It seemed you weren’t the only one. 

The moment was short-lived. Jungkook quickly brought his hand back over his mouth to stop himself from making any more noise. The moan caught in his throat was muffled, but you could still sense the urgency in his tone without hearing him fully.  

Each time you bobbed your head up and down, his reactions fueled you to push further. Jungkook was trying to be subtle, you could tell, and it was almost cute how soft he was. Your hand wrapped around his length to stroke whatever your mouth couldn’t take. He whimpered underneath you each time your lips came down around him, and you picked up on the cute way he lightly gripped your hair with each movement you made. It was so subtle, careful not to squeeze too hard, but you could feel when he wanted more.

Jungkook couldn’t even comprehend the emotions flowing through his body, all new sensations that made every touch you gave him feel so intense. He was barely making it as it was, but this was so new, and he just couldn’t—

“Y/n— I’m close…” He sobbed. He felt worse when you stopped momentarily to look at him because you had barely started. You were only a few strokes in and he had tried his best to push past and enjoy it as long as possible, but it was already too much, and—

“I’m sorry…” He cried, that creeping embarrassment washing over him with vigor. He was prepared for you to say something demeaning. Mocking that he could hardly last, that he was a disappointment, that you regretted doing this with him. He was ready for the painful words he’d grown so used to lately, but they never came as you popped off him with a smile. 

“Let go whenever you’re ready.” Your eyes were warm, and for a second he felt all fuzzy inside because it was more compassion than he deserved. 

He felt his eyes grow watery, but right before you were about to finish him off, a sound Jungkook recognized too well filled the emptiness of his office. The blaring ring of the phone that sat on his desk made you both freeze. In an instant, the thin veil you both wore over your eyes, shielding you from the outside world, was ripped away. 

You and Jungkook just stared at each other. An intense fear came over the both of you, but in the moment, Jungkook knew he had to act. He hurriedly tried to pull himself together enough so he could answer the call. With a worried glance sent in your direction, Jungkook slowly picked up the phone.

“H-Hello?” His voice cracked, the strain from all the crying earlier taking its toll at the worst time possible.

“Oh— sir, are you ok?” It was Secretary Yu. 

“Yeah— I’m fine. Is something up?” Jungkook rushed her. With the reassurance it was just his secretary and not an executive, an uncontrollable anger started boiling over at something coming in the way of his relief…

“I’m sorry to interrupt you! I know you’re on your lunch break, but Director Lee is here to see you about a supposed emergency.” Her tone sounded like she felt bad, but Jungkook was more focused on what she said.

He looked down at you, staring wide-eyed at him, waiting for the news.

“Um— can you just tell him to come back later?” Jungkook threaded his fingers through his hair, stressed and unable to hide the annoyance in his voice any longer.

“He says it’s urgent.” She already had an answer, knowing her boss well.

“Fuck.” Jungkook groaned as quietly as he could. It was crude language for work, but his secretary was used to it by now, often on the receiving end of frustrated rants when censoring himself was the least of his concerns. 

“Can you give us—  me a few minutes?” A slip of the tongue, remembering he was technically the only one supposed to be in here. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice. 

“Of course, just call back when you’re ready.” And with that, she hung up and the countdown began.

As soon as she was gone, Jungkook resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room. Of course the one day he wasn’t in here by himself, Director Lee just had to show up. It probably wasn’t even an actual emergency. He had a habit of doing this from time to time in order for an excuse to speak to Jungkook, and of course this “emergency” had to happen today.

Jungkook looked down at you and debated whether or not there was any conceivable possibility of finishing before Director Lee came in. He was already so close, just a little longer and he’d be putty in your hands.

“What’s going on?” You finally asked when he hadn’t said anything.

“Director Lee’s outside. He says it’s an emergency.” Jungkook felt like crying. He was so close. 

You looked around, panicked, because there was no way you looked presentable, and Jungkook looked more than a little disheveled with his shiny lips and your lipstick all over his face. Instead of thinking about it too much, you hurriedly got to your feet, knees a little shaky from being on them for so long, but that didn’t stop you as you quickly tried to help clean Jungkook up. 

He looked up at you with wide eyes as you used your fingers to wipe away the red stains littered all over his cheeks, lips, and neck. His eyes were glossy and you had to resist the urge to kiss that look off his face knowing that would just leave marks again, but you let your thumb lightly caress his cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise I’ll finish when he leaves.” You reassured him as you tried to help fix his ruffled hair, moving the strands back in place and out of his eyes. 

Jungkook’s heart hammered in his chest so hard he was almost sure you could hear it. His mind was a mess, and the affection just made him want you even more. He would give anything to have you bent over his desk right now. 

He looked presentable, at least enough so that in the dim light hopefully Director Lee wouldn’t question anything. You, though… Where were you going to hide? You looked around.

Your first instinct was to hide behind the blinds, but that would never work in a million years. There was really nowhere in his office you could hide without it being incredibly ridiculous except…

“You think I could fit under there?” You asked quickly, pointing to the spot underneath Jungkook’s desk. It would be a tight fit, but there weren’t any better options.

Jungkook moved out of the way, and with a little maneuvering as you tried your best to find the most comfortable position, you were able to slide underneath. In the meantime, Jungkook went through the painful process of trying to tuck himself back into his pants.

He had tears in his eyes as he struggled for a moment. It was so hard, he was so hard, that at this point trying to get himself back in was more than a task. And his touch… anything could have set him off, but he worked carefully so he wouldn’t end up making a mess in his hands. He couldn’t disappoint you. But it hurt. It hurt so much that at this point, he just had to make do with leaving his pants unzipped because no way in hell he would be able to get them closed. 

With you squished under his desk and he now looking normal enough for this short meeting, Jungkook took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he scooched closer to his desk. 

“You— you ok down there?” He asked quickly. 

“Yeah, just don’t be too long.” You called out. Jungkook spread his legs a little wider to give you more room.

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but at least the view made up for it. 

“I’ll try and make this quick. I’m so sorry…” Jungkook sighed, evidently frustrated. Of all days, this had to happen when he had been so close… so fucking close. Director Lee better have an actual emergency. He had a habit of coming in and claiming “emergencies” when really, he just wanted to talk. Jungkook knew what he was doing, trying to get into his favor in hopes of getting into his dad’s good graces, hoping for a promotion soon or after Jungkook was meant to take over. 

It was annoying under normal circumstances, but if he was trying to do the same thing now… Jungkook took a few deep breaths to calm himself before finally picking up the phone again. 

“Hey… yeah, you can send him in, but please tell him I’m busy and to make it quick.” You intently listened to his words and while Jungkook had tried to stay calm, you could still clearly hear the agitation in his voice.

It was cute. Maybe a little hot too? You shook the thought out of your head, not liking it at all. 

With bated breath, you listened to the sound of the door creek open and the hurried clicks of dress shoes slowly coming closer to the desk. Director Lee was alright in your opinion. He was one of the executives in marketing, but you weren’t sure exactly what he did. He was fine at his job, but he would talk for hours about the most obscure thing. You hadn’t really talked to him much, just seen him at the few meetings you’d attended so far as another executive, but hopefully—

“Head Director Jeon!” Director Lee’s cheerful voice rang out. Jungkook had tried to make himself look busy, quickly shaking his computer awake and mindlessly scrolling over some random document he had open before his breakdown. 

Jungkook almost rose to his feet on instinct, ready to greet him with a polite bow, but luckily he caught himself before the situation ended less than favorable. Instead, he kept himself busy before finally meeting Director Lee’s eyes. 

“Director Lee! I’m sorry for the wait.” Jungkook tried to smile as the man himself came over, bowing quickly before taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

Great. That likely meant this wouldn’t take only two seconds. Jungkook just hoped that wasn’t the case, nor did he notice the lack of greeting.

“I’m sorry to bother you when you’re busy, but there were just a few questions I had from marketing for you.” Director Lee smiled, and Jungkook let out a sigh of relief knowing this was actually about work. 

You were somewhat listening. You picked up on a few things you’d hear marketing discuss in the meetings you attended, but most of it went over your head. You honestly had hoped that this was only going to be a few questions, but you were always wrong. 

At some point, Jungkook briefly mentioned wanting to travel. They had been discussing something about the EU branch located in Germany, leading to Director Lee talking about the time he took his family there when he was on a business trip. Jungkook had quickly mentioned his desire to travel more, and then suddenly he was being handed Director Lee’s phone to look through all the pictures of the Lee family during their trips to all these faraway places. 

Although Jungkook did a good job at remaining calm in front of Director Lee, you could see the way his leg bounced restlessly as he listened to the director talk about the time his family went to Budapest from your position underneath the desk. You wanted to calm him down a little and without thinking too deeply, you placed a reassuring hand on his thigh, gently running your hand along it, letting him know you were still here. 

You hadn’t been paying too much attention to their conversation. After all, it wasn’t meant to be one you were a part of, and you tried your best to give them a little privacy. But right in that moment, you noticed the way Jungkook stopped talking momentarily about business trips as your hand trailed up his leg, before slowly dragging back into the conversation. 

Oh. You liked that a little too much.

Your reassurance was only meant to be quick, a very brief reminder that you were here, but you kept going, your hand going up further, up his thigh to where his open zipper laid. For a brief moment, you considered stopping. Director Lee was right there, but as you started pulling your hand away, suddenly another was wrapped around your wrist stopping your movements. 

It took a moment to realize it was Jungkook. You stared for a while, his tight grip fleeting as he lightly placed your hand back on his thigh, all while he continued on with Director Lee. It was just enough to give you the confidence to go further. Luckily Jungkook made it easy for you.

You were a little too eager slipping into his pants, pulling him out ever so gently, and feeling him in your grasp again. Jungkook immediately had his hand around your wrist the minute your fingers brushed against him. 

It was a warning, a fleeting one, one you could tell even he wasn’t sure about. For a moment you were sure his hand was trying to pull you closer. 

You had some common sense— you had no intention of getting him so riled up that Director Lee would walk around the desk to see you cramped underneath Jungkook’s desk playing with his cock. As much as you’d love to watch him squirm while he tried his best to remain composed, you also wanted to walk out of here with a job. You knew your limits.

You were subtle at first, You watched and listened intently as your thumb lightly traced over the tip. You got another instant reaction, his hand quickly tightening around your wrist, and you heard his voice waver slightly. 

Your efforts were slow and controlled. You didn’t want him to scream, but you did want him to feel it. Slow light touches grazed up his skin, so delicate, as you made sure he’d never forget you were here. It was nice, as he returned faint squeezes around your wrist. 

“You and your wife should come with us one day!” Director Lee bellowed out with a hearty laugh after Jungkook faintly wished he could have been there for that experience. The conversation had moved to Alaska and the Northern Lights now… you had no idea how they got on that topic. You were startled slightly by the sudden outburst. Your hand slipped and suddenly his fingers were laced in your hair and underneath the laughter, your ears instantly locked onto a subtle moan. 

Jungkook was quick to cover it with a cough that Director Lee seemingly didn’t notice. At this point, you feared you had gone a little too far accidently. You were going to call it quits until Director Lee left, but as your grip loosened, suddenly his hand was on your wrist again stopping you in your tracks. 

He didn’t want you to stop, and you wanted to please him. 

You pushed past your hesitation, instead deciding to get even more bold. You leaned forward enough to the point you were face to face with his weeping cock once again. You took it in your hand and lightly ran your tongue along the tip. You were instantly rewarded with his hand lacing into your hair, and you wished you could have seen his face. 

You listened to the way his breathing grew heavier with each swipe of your tongue. You also noticed the subtle way he’d try to keep your head down longer any time you came up. As wrong as it might be, it was hot, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, so was he. 

He was painfully hot, so hot you once again found yourself wondering how you didn’t notice sooner. You honestly probably didn’t want to, your hatred blinding you from both his suffering and anguish as well as his… nice composition. That wasn’t entirely true… you knew that he was conventionally attractive, maybe a little more so than most, but looks meant nothing when he was being petty to you. Now that you were exposed to the cracks in his façade, you could push past your turbulent history and acknowledge the fact you understood the stares he received when he’d walk around the office and the swooning no matter his questionable leadership. You got it more than anyone now that you’d gotten a glimpse behind his sad gaze. 

Unfortunately, you understood it too much. Watching him try not to fall apart in front of the director made the ache between your legs apparent, and you wanted nothing more than to take him right there in his office. But this wasn’t about you; it was about him. You wanted that sad look behind his eyes to disappear, even just for a second. But later tonight you just might need to revisit an old friend you kept in your bottom drawer. A reunion was more than necessary at this point.

Curse him.

•────•──────────•────•

Jungkook should have stopped you, he knew that. This was embarrassing, the highest level of inappropriate he could have achieved, but he felt like he’d reached such a breaking point that he simply didn’t care. All he could think about was the orgasm that he was on the verge of having before you were interrupted. The minute you had your hand on him he never wanted it to leave. 

At this point, he was this close to screaming at Director Lee to leave. But he rambled on and on about all the excursions he took his family on whenever he got some time off. Jungkook tried his best to smile and nod along whenever he made eye contact, but the minute you had your tongue running along him, he could barely keep it together. 

Jungkook wondered how Director Lee hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t doing a good job hiding that something was up. Jungkook was struggling to keep his eyes open as your lips wrapped around him with the subtle flicks of your hand. At this point, Director Lee probably thought he had some type of cold by how much he had to cough to stop himself from moaning out for you to make him cum. 

He felt delirious, like he was looking over the precipice of a high-rise and the world around him started to spin as he tried to make out the ground down below. He was so close. So close to finally getting the release he’d been craving for days. So close, but of fucking course Director Lee just had to come into his office now.

“I’m sure Ms. Han would love Barcelona!” For some reason, Director Lee had already started planning out a trip that Yuri and him were meant to join with his family. Jungkook practically had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying that the last thing he wanted to think about was Yuri when he had you underneath his desk pleasing him so well. He didn’t want to think of anything; no work, no business, he just wanted to cum… why was that so hard?!

“I’m sure she—she—she… would.” Your tongue had licked right over the slit and he was horrible at pretending he wasn’t on the verge of losing it. You felt so good.

Your efforts weren’t enough to get him to cum yet, something he felt was intentional. But the longer he had to stare at Director Lee’s face, the more he was starting to care less and less about the world around him. He just wanted—

Please.

“It’s honestly beautiful— I went there when I was fifteen. It was a high school trip I’m pretty sure, and—” Blah blah blah, if he wasn’t out of his face in the next two minutes…

He didn’t want to hear about this trip. Spending any time with Director Lee outside of a work context felt like a nightmare. Jungkook knew that he’d probably end up spending less time with Yuri than Director Lee, talking his head off about some random thing he’s convinced they have in common. It maybe wouldn’t be so bad if Jungkook didn’t know his type as well as he did. It was all an attempt at trying to fast-track a promotion. Director Lee probably didn’t care about him at all, or the things they had in common, and would actually hate for Yuri and him to be there on his family trip. This conversation was pointless.

“And we’d have to go hiking across the… sights are so beautiful… the pictures I took were—”

“O-oohhh-oh…” It was a quiet, hushed moan and Jungkook quickly had to blink away the tears that had started to settle in his eyes at the strain of keeping it together. You had finally taken the whole tip and Jungkook was just getting worse and worse at covering up his moans. The cough that followed was a little slow, and he probably sounded in as much pain as he felt.

He wanted to see you, wanted to touch you.

“Head Director Jeon, are you ok?” Director Lee feigned concerned. He always insisted on calling him his full title instead of the more casual “Director Jeon” that everyone else used and he preferred. He would even choose the awkward “Mr. Jeon,” despite it making him feel weird since he was younger than the majority of the staff he worked with, over the full title. He hated people using it for no other reason than it always just felt like just an attempt to get in his good graces.

“Fine— just…” deep breaths… “The cold’s started to get to me slightly…” Jungkook tried to laugh, but his eyes were getting watery. He probably looked like a mess. He wanted you to make him into an even bigger one than he already was. 

“Oh! If you’re sick, I know a great tea recipe that would—” Jungkook couldn’t pay attention any longer than two seconds. He couldn’t stop imagining what might happen the minute Director Lee left, what you might do, and the blissful release afterward. He just wanted you, please, please, please…

He couldn’t do this anymore.

“— Director Lee, I’m sorry to interrupt, but—” it hurts so much “but I’m pretty busy today…” Jungkook tried to be nice, but he really was worried what he might do if Director Lee wasn’t out the door in the next five seconds.

Director Lee looked shocked for a second. He wasn’t expecting that. Usually Jungkook would always put up with his bullshit even though he despised the mooching, but today any longer and Jungkook would seriously cause a scene. 

Jungkook attempted to put on the best, most apologetic smile he could muster as the Director processed his words. 

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. Your secretary mentioned you were busy before I came in.” Jungkook nearly jumped for joy when Director Lee finally got up from the chair in front of him. 

Director Lee bowed politely and Jungkook once again had to resist the urge to get up and bear him a respectful farewell, but that was out of the question right now. Instead, Jungkook bowed his head slightly, hoping the director wouldn’t think too much of it.

“I’ll be in contact about how things go at the US branch,” Director Lee mentioned and Jungkook had nearly forgotten that he had first come in with an actual reason. Aside from discussing some things about marketing, Director Lee had wanted to go over some information before he left for the US branch tomorrow, and that’s how they ended up talking about travel. It was then when Director Lee mentioned how his family just came back from London and he was flying out again.

Jungkook only nodded, nervous that if he spoke at this point the only thing that would come out was an embarrassing plea for you to make him cum. But to his delight, Jungkook watched Director Lee make his way to the door. You must have heard him leaving because the minute the sounds of his footsteps echoed off the marble floors, you quickly kicked it up five notches, finally putting Jungkook out of his misery and taking him down your throat again. 

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered closed as he took it all in. Your mouth brought so many new sensations, he was having trouble keeping up. It felt good, and deep down he selfishly relished in it all. 

“Have a good day, Head Director Jeon.” Director Lee bowed and Jungkook wanted to scream at him to leave, but instead he sent another pained smile and a slight wave his way. 

When he heard the door close, Jungkook let his head fall to his desk. Silent besides the now obvious sounds of you shifting underneath the desk. It hurt so much, he just wanted to—

“Please, please, please make me cum!” A hushed sob escaped as the tears finally spilled from his eyes. He was shameless and his ears felt hot with embarrassment, but for a moment he didn’t care, he just wanted to cum. 

He felt you gently tap his leg and he finally remembered that you were cramped down there. He quickly rolled his chair back, giving you the opportunity to climb out from under the desk. He watched with hungry eyes as you stretched your tense limbs. Even fully clothed, just watching your body move under your blouse was more than enough to make him lose his mind. 

Get it together, Jeon. But he couldn’t, he wanted you so badly— his watery eyes stared as you moved back into a comfortable position between his legs. 

“Please— please— I’m so close.” He cried. 

You looked at him with those kind eyes and gave him a warm smile that tingled more than just his heart. 

“I got you, just let go when you’re ready.” You didn’t even give him a chance to answer before you took him in completely. Jungkook couldn’t stop the moan that fell his lips at the warmth and wetness your mouth provided. It was amazing, you were amazing, you always were. Your pace was quick this time, sensing his urgency. It was probably only a few seconds before that growing feeling returned, this time with no plans of stopping. 

“C-close!” Jungkook hurried out, but he feared you couldn’t understand him with how mangled it came out.

Jungkook let one hand tangle in your hair, needing to grab ahold of something, while the other came over his mouth to stop himself from screaming. For a second, he worried if he was doing this right, was he embarrassing himself right now? Did you hate him? Did you resent him for pulling you into this? This was all so new, he didn’t want to mess things up, but he couldn’t think clearly and hardly had the capacity to care right now.

Jungkook finally found the strength to look down, the sight of you taking him so well caused sparks to run through his body, making it impossible to delay the inevitable.

“Your mouth!” It came out a little louder than he wanted it to, but it was meant to be a warning. He was close, and if you didn’t move away soon then… He thought you’d move off of him, maybe finish him off by hand, but instead you sped up your pace despite his warning. For a second, Yuri flashed in his head, and the sheer utter fear of disappointing you like he’d done to her so many times came crashing down like a wave in a storm. 

As he sped toward the edge, he tried his best to delay it until you could get off of him. Yuri would hate the mess and he feared your reaction— no, he had to last just a little longer—

“Y/n, I’m serious, I’m—” His efforts were fruitless. The tears in his eyes finally spilled over; the pleasure and the guilt grew overwhelming. His body was on fire, and the sheer relief of having you this close made the end come all too quickly.

Jungkook kept his hand clamped over his mouth, but his attempt was futile as moans still slipped from his lips. They were muffled, nonsensical, and sounded as pained as he felt, the blinding hot release spreading throughout his entire body and ultimately into your mouth. Tears ran down his cheeks, his grip in your hair growing tighter as you steadily worked him through his orgasm.

“Fu—oh—go—fuck.” There weren’t words to describe how good he felt.

He could feel his release paint your mouth, a horrible mix of shame and something else he didn’t want to admit bubbling in the depths of his mind. His whole body shook, even after what felt like an endless stream of his release filled your mouth. Wave after wave of tears just kept coming because finally… fucking finally.

He momentarily forgot where you both were and who he was. It just felt so good to forget. It was the freedom he craved when he was alone sometimes. But this was wrong, he knew it was.

As the wave started to die down, instead of a graceful landing, he practically crashed with how quickly new tears started spilling from his eyes. His muffled moans turned into sobs and he couldn’t bear to look down at you. He didn’t want to see your disappointment. You were already so kind, and he just had to go and ruin it because he couldn’t wait until you had moved off of him. 

“Jungkook, you ok?” Your voice was laced with concern as he felt your hand running along his thigh.

“I’m sorry!” Jungkook just sobbed. His face was wet, and his hair was soaked with tears and sweat. He knew he looked like a mess.

There was a moment of silence while you tried to rack your brain for what he was talking about. “Why are you sorry?” You were so gentle, hating how upset he seemed. 

“I tried to— I tried to wait— I’m so sorry!” He choked out, trying to be quiet as Secretary Yu was right outside, but the shame that crept over his body made it hard to stay in control.

You looked notably shocked.

“I told you that you could cum whenever you were ready,” you chuckled, rubbing his leg gently. 

“That’s not— your mouth… I came inside— I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally looked down and you could see just how distraught he seemed, the wetness around his eyes more than heartbreaking. Finding a little strength, you finally rose to your feet. Your knees were achy, but you persevered so you could face him a little better. 

You took the initiative and brought your finger up to his chin so he’d look at you. His eyes were shiny, red, and filled with a sadness you couldn’t quite comprehend. This wasn’t how this was meant to end.

“You don’t need to apologize for something I wanted.” You gently rubbed your thumb along his wet cheek. Your cheeks burned from the confession, but you were glad you said it when you saw the tension fall from his soft features. 

“H-huh?” 

“Maybe I should have asked, but I thought it was best to avoid any mess.” Might he have preferred it more if he painted your face? The image in your mind made your face even hotter, not exactly against the idea if you didn’t have to worry about walking out in front of your coworkers.

“I thought I messed up already… made you disappointed, that you— you’d hate me too.” Just the word hate made his eyes watery all over again. He’d heard it too many times from Yuri, and he was sure it wouldn’t be long before he heard it from you too.

It was then you realized what he was referring to, that he thought somehow cumming in your mouth was a mistake he made? It was crazy and reaffirmed that Jungkook was telling the truth when he said it was his first time having someone go down on him. But that was the least of your worries, instead, the harsh words he’d expected as retribution stood out to you more than anything. The truth of the reasoning behind his sad eyes, why his dimpled smile never appeared anymore, and the sense of what might be happening behind closed doors grew more terrifying the more he spoke to you. 

“Just wanted you to feel good— I can’t hate you for that.” You smiled, and you were a little shocked when you suddenly felt his hands on your waist pull you closer.

“Did it feel good?” You giggled at the affection, but your face was burning. This isn’t what you expected from him. 

Instead of answering, Jungkook tugged you down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

“Thank you…” He shakily sighed. You couldn’t truly understand the relief you brought him. It was his gratitude for everything— for being here with him, for putting up with his pathetic desperation, for making the thoughts that clouded his mind dissipate for only a second, and the list could go on really. You seriously were as amazing as he imagined. 

“I didn’t know… it just— it felt so good, thank you… thank you.” He sweetly mumbled into your blouse. You would have never pictured Jungkook as the affectionate type, and your body and mind were struggling to keep up. You tried your best to ignore the way your heart was nearly beating out of your chest, instead choosing to just be there for him. If this is what he wanted, you’d happily oblige, doing whatever it took to make him feel better— to fix him. 

“No need to thank me— if anything, thank you.” You laughed. You were just as guilty as Jungkook. All you could think about since Tuesday was Jungkook’s body pressed against yours in a heat of emotion. You thought giving him the cold shoulder would be enough to forget it all, but you were so easily pulled back in. You hated it, right now you wanted to avoid the consequences, but you couldn’t stop the growing warmth spreading through your body seeing him feel a little better. 

You expected him to laugh along with you, but Jungkook’s gaze just held onto yours before his eyes started traveling down to where your bodies met. You were a little confused at first, but once his eyes met yours again, you realized you knew that look all too well. 

Oh?

You watched with curious eyes as he started leaning in, curious what he might do considering how timid he was earlier. Maybe it was because he was still riding the high you gave him only minutes ago, but this time he easily pulled you in to meet his lips. 

He was so gentle, he always was. You quickly realized you liked the way his kisses felt, the way he held you close. You didn’t hate it; you couldn’t hate this at all. The soft moment was over quickly though, as his hands started running along your body, instantly making the simmering flame reignite inside you. Your hands quickly found a place running through his long, damp hair, pulling him closer because the last thing you wanted right now was to be away from him. 

All of a sudden, Jungkook wrapped his hands around you and hoisted you up onto the desk. He was standing between your legs, much like the position you found yourselves in a few days ago. Then his lips were on your neck, light, but more than enough for a soft moan to leave your lips before you could stop yourself. Your body was hot, and the urge to pull him closer was growing painful at this point.

“I want to make you feel good too,” Jungkook softly whispered against your skin. Dangerous, the words were so dangerous, and you wondered if he noticed the way your legs wrapped around his waist tighter, wanting to make that very wish come true.

“You’ve been so good to me— it feels so unfair, like I'm being too selfish. You’ve made me feel so good, you should too.” This is certainly not what you were expecting out of this interaction. You had imagined that since Jungkook was cheating on his wife with you, this was all going to be about the indulgence he couldn’t get from his wife.  You were just the method he’d use to get himself off. It’s not like you entirely hated the idea of him using you for relief, you were here to help him after all, though anytime you’d think about it as an affair it made you sick. But you never thought there was anything in it for you. 

Jungkook’s warm hands sliding up your thigh took you out of your thoughts, steadily pushing up your skirt in the process. When he held you like this, it was easy to forget where you were. 

You placed your hand on his, stopping him from pushing it any further. You noticed his eyes glance down, and suddenly panic spread across his features as he quickly grew noticeably flustered.

“Oh— was I being too pushy? I’m sor—” You quickly shushed him, not wanting him to overthink it.

“It’s just— we’re still in your office in the middle of a work day,” you pointed out. It was easy to forget that in the heat of emotions. Plus, Jungkook had the blinds closed, the lamp on his desk the only lighting for the room. But the glimmer of sunshine slipping in from underneath the blinds was the sole indication that it was, in fact, the middle of the afternoon on a perfect, cloudless, sunny day.

Jungkook looked over at the windows as well, and you noticed the way his face flushed. It seemed he had forgotten as well. 

“Ohhhh, right.” Jungkook shyly mumbled, clearly a little disappointed. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t apologize. I honestly want to take you up on the offer— just not here where someone might walk in again.” At the mere mention of Jungkook touching you, your body remembered how his fingers felt inside you that night. Despite his clear lack of experience being on the receiving end of pleasure, Jungkook somehow knew how to touch you in a way that made you see stars. 

Jungkook pulled you a little closer. “I know a place— uh, only if you’re interested.” He quickly added, always so polite. 

You gave him a look that told him to keep going. 

“It’s a storage closet for most of the cleaning supplies and sometimes additional things for the office. Only the janitors use the room, but they hardly go in there since it’s not really a janitor's closet. They mainly use it for restocks of their supplies. Plus, no one can come in without the required access,” Jungkook explained, and it sounded perfectly like what you needed. 

“I’m assuming that means you have access then?” You looked down at the lanyard he had sitting on his desk. 

“I’m the only one aside from the janitors.” He shyly smiled.

You thought about it for a second before hopping off the desk. “Alright then, sounds like a plan. I have a meeting to get to and some work to do— but are you free at four?” You asked, trying your best to smooth down your hair and clothes.

Jungkook moved out of the way slightly, and from the corner of your eye, you could feel his gaze scanning over your body. You couldn’t stop the smirk spreading across your face.

“Uhhhh…” For a second, you wondered if waiting until four was too big of an ask. 

“I can wait— yeah— four’s ok.” There was a shakiness to his words that made it seem like he didn’t entirely believe himself. He really was too cute.

You focused on trying to get yourself back to normal, working on your hair with only your hands as best you could. Jungkook helped you get the smeared lipstick off your face, and you helped him with a similar problem along with taming his hair and fixing his shirt so it didn’t look like you’d been tugging on it for the last half hour. 

In the end, you were able to get yourself to look somewhat decent. You realized way too late that Jungkook had a mirror in his office and you were able to address the details that he might not have seen. Jungkook looked good too. Well, he always did, but maybe you might say he looked even better than when you first walked in?

He had this cute, dopey grin on his face, and the way you had messed up his hair made the soft curls cascade around his face in a way that made him look incredibly ethereal. He had what some might call a ‘glow,’ and it didn’t take much speculation to figure out what it might have been from.

A swell of pride filled your chest, along with a bit of relief knowing you were able to make him feel better, even if only for a short amount of time. 

Your goodbye was brief. You knew your coworkers, Taehyung and Solmi especially, would be looking for you by now.

“See you at four,” you mentioned as you took one last look in the mirror. Jungkook had told you where the closet was, and he was sitting on his desk looking at you while you finished getting ready.

“Mhmmm” He lulled. “Can’t wait~” It was a shy admission that made this cute, boyish grin appear on his face.

You had to get out of here.

“Alright then, don't forget to eat lunch!” By the look on his face at your words, you knew he probably hadn’t even thought about it. 

“Don’t forget… you’re on your lunch break after all.” You reaffirmed, knowing there was a chance he’d still forget even after your reminder. 

“I won’t… see you later.” That same dopey smile appeared on his face and you had to physically tear yourself away so you could finally leave. Curse him and that face of his.

You were finally able to leave. You hastily sped past Secretary Yu, and in the corner of your eye, you caught her confusion at your sudden departure. You could only hope she hadn’t heard anything. You don’t know how long she was there…

•────•──────────•────•

Maybe you should have just taken Jungkook up on his offer to take you right there on his desk again. You had underestimated your own ability to wait. Jungkook had riled you up too much. Watching him lose himself from your mouth, with his eager need to reciprocate, made you excited. 

You hated it. You hated this. Just like that night, you had left his office feeling good, but once you made it back to your desk, those feelings of guilt and shame came back all over again. You had to remind yourself a couple of times that this was a married man you were messing with. He had a wife, and you were jeopardizing any chance of their relationship ever improving. The thought of being a homewrecker, the other woman, made your skin crawl. You hated it.

This was wrong, and that was all you should be feeling as the weight of your actions started to sink in. You hated it even more because you were excited, painfully so, as you watched the time tick down.

Jungkook certainly didn’t help either. It seemed his eyes were on you any chance they’d get. The strange thing was you saw more of him today than you usually do. Jungkook liked to spend his days holed up in his office, aside from the meetings he was required to attend and oversee, but today things were different. 

Jungkook was everywhere you turned, that same dopey look still on his face, and he always seemed to be staring at you. You wanted to scream at him because he couldn’t make it any more obvious, but you couldn’t because you liked his hungry gaze. It just fueled your thoughts about what might happen at four.

You were uncomfortably hot despite the freezing temperature outside. You were angry, you were way too horny, and as much as you should have been running away when the time finally struck four, you couldn’t have been happier. 

Jungkook had texted you about an hour ago (you both had quickly exchanged numbers right before you left) that he was going to go about five minutes or so early to let you in and asked for you to wait a little while just in case anyone saw anything. Just like a few hours prior, you walked through the halls looking over your shoulder, closely analyzing to make sure no one was following or even seeing you in the hallway. It was more stressful than it should have been, but eventually, you made it to where Jungkook had instructed. 

Storage Closet. Okay, this was it.

*Knock knock,* you paused for a second, and then followed it up with an additional two knocks. It had also been his idea to add a special, secret password just in case. You thought it was a little much, but he looked so cute while he came up with the code, so you let him have his fun. 

It took a second, and you were a little scared that for some reason this wasn’t the right door, or that maybe Jungkook might not be there yet and you came too early. But right as your anxiety soared through the roof, a small crack opened in the doorway. 

Lo and behold, peaking right through the door were the big, round, bewildered eyes of the man you were hoping for. You let out a sigh of relief as he opened the door further, revealing that it was just him in here like he promised. You looked around once more before going inside. 

Jungkook had kept the lights off, but as he shut the door behind you, he finally turned on the dim light and you were able to see the space a little better. It was pretty much exactly what you expected. There were mainly shelves lined with cleaning supplies and the occasional surplus of office supplies, like a huge stack of printer paper that you quickly made note of to ask Jungkook about later because you were always running out in the copy room. Besides that, there were a couple of tables you were confused what they were for, but some lined the space where the shelves ended, and there was also one that sat right in the center of the room. The room wasn’t that big, smaller than Jungkook’s office, but not by much. It definitely wasn’t cramped, and you let out a sigh of relief knowing it wasn’t grimy like you had feared. Instead, it matched the rest of the modern sleekness of the office outside. It really was perfect. 

You finally turned around to face Jungkook. He hadn’t said anything yet, but with the telling look in his eyes, he didn’t need to. You had only just noticed that Jungkook had gotten rid of his suit jacket, now just adorning his white button-up carefully tucked into his blue slacks with the sleeves rolled up. It all came together with a black belt with a shiny, gold buckle that glinted in the low light. You could only imagine how much it cost knowing the type of money he had. He looked good, too good. It’s like he had a long day at work, casting aside his jacket for a little more breathing room, and was now standing right in front of you. He looked casual, but classy in a way that made you squeeze your thighs together because, wow. With this look, you could even catch a glimpse of the tattoos that you had seen the other day. It was too much. You were too weak, and you just needed this man now. 

“Sooooo…” you began, the silence starting to grow a little awkward.  

Jungkook honestly didn’t know what to say. He was too busy drinking you in. The minute you left his office, he instantly regretted not asking if you had time to slip away to the storage room a little sooner. He was riding a high he didn’t know how to come down from. You had blown his mind. Sex had never felt that good, and you taking the initiative had been something he struggled to comprehend all day. It just made him even more eager to please you. You had been so nice, nicer than what he deserved, and he just wanted to make you feel even a sliver of what you gave him. He highly doubted it could compare, but anything to show you how grateful he was to have you here with him. 

Jungkook had struggled to keep it together since the moment you left. His eyes found you easily as he was pulled out of his office far more often than usual. It was nice to see you, but it just made this moment that much harder to wait for. Now that you were in front of him…

Jungkook barely noticed you had spoken. Instead, his gaze fixated on your long legs, your sheer black stockings coming up all the way to meet your short, black pencil skirt. Your outfit was completed nicely with a red blouse and pointed stilettos, making you even more alluring. You had also done a bit more fixing up since you left his office. Your red lipstick was back to perfection and your hair was neatly styled back the way it was when you initially walked into his office.

He didn’t have the confidence to say it earlier, and he was honestly a little ashamed that it was even a thought in his head, but he liked the way you looked after he was done with you. Something about ruining your neatness made his length ache in a way he didn’t quite understand. It was embarrassing, and he knew he should be ashamed, but for some reason today, he just didn’t know how to act. 

Jungkook’s feet acted faster than his mouth could. He was never the best with words anyway. Slowly, he approached you, and instinctively you moved back until your legs hit one of the tables that lined the walls. Jungkook was quick to close the gap, pulling you into another tight embrace that made it so easy to bury into your warmth. For a second he just took it in, loving how you felt in his arms, and you smelled so good too.

“Fuck.” He lightly moaned into your shirt, embarrassed at how easy it was to rile him up. It didn’t take much from Yuri, nor did it take a lot from you either. Maybe he was easy. Yuri has mentioned before how easy he was to please. Jungkook never knew exactly what that meant. He was just trying to be a good husband. It felt wrong to demand anything more than what Yuri offered… but maybe she was right.

However, he didn’t want to think about that now. You made it so easy to forget about his marriage when normally the only thing he could focus on was how much of a failure he was, how he was making Yuri miserable, and how he could make her happy only if he was a little better. Instead, it felt like the rest of the world melted away anytime he was in your presence. It might sound horrible, but he enjoyed the silence for once. 

“Jungkook?” You finally questioned after he held onto you a little too long.

“Oh right, I’m sorry.” His face burned, worried you might think he was weird. He separated from you and went back over towards the door, where he held up his hand to the light switch.

“Not a lot of people come down this hallway. No one should bother us, but just in case, it might be better to keep the lights off so no one suspects we’re in here,” Jungkook added. It was both a legitimate reason and also an excuse to turn the lights off again. The lights were dim, but not dim enough, and the thought of you seeing him, disappointing you like he had done to Yuri so many times… he couldn’t do that. It would be easier this way.

“Oh? Smart thinking, sir.” 

Jungkook quickly flipped the lights off, the only light now coming in was from underneath the door. Both of you could hardly see each other, but Jungkook was used to the dark. His eyes adjusted quickly to see a vague outline of your form standing by the desk.

“Mmmmm… What did I say about being so formal with me?” His tone was low, teasing almost, and when his hand grazed your arm, you practically jumped in surprise. It made you shiver when you realized he was so close.

“No Sir, no Mr. Jeon, no Director Jeon, no Head Director Jeon. It’s just Jungkook when we’re alone like this,” Jungkook mumbled slowly. He hated it, especially from you. It felt weird anytime anyone was formal with him, but he especially couldn’t stand the honorifics when you were both literally the same age. It felt wrong and fake, and that’s not what he wanted to be like with you.

“I got you. I’m sorry, Jungkook.” You made sure to emphasize his name since apparently he liked hearing it.

He did. He really did for some reason. Taking him out of the moment slightly, he had to stop himself from giggling at you trying to make him out in the dark, your squinting all too adorable. It made the horrible need to have you consume him in seconds.

Jungkook had his arms around you again, this time to lift you onto the table. He was gentle, like he always was, and he kept in close proximity. Having you this close again made his brain all fuzzy. Jungkook moved even closer and pulled you back into his arms. 

“I missed you…” he sighed, an embarrassing confession but one that was true nonetheless. He couldn’t stop thinking about you since you’d left, and it felt so good to have you here.

You didn’t want to admit it either, but it felt so good to have him here as well. You sighed in relief as you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

It was a moment of softness that neither of you were really prepared for. It was nice though; you couldn’t deny it. He gave great hugs, so warm and inviting. There was an unexpected sweet smell in the air around him. You could tell his cologne was expensive, it was soft and delicate, just like the wine he gifted you on Tuesday. You felt like you could get drunk from his very presence, and that just made the ache even worse.

“Jungkook, please—” you rushed out, and he was quick to respond. Jungkook pulled you close, finally closing the agonizing distance between you two. You both had run out of patience to be soft and you were too needy to take it slow, instead going straight in with hurried and desperate kisses.

Your lips chased after each other. Any moment apart felt like an eternity, and when his hands came up and gently tugged on your blouse, the room grew hot quickly. You both knew at the end of the day, as much as you wanted to savor this moment, you were still in the middle of the workday. This had to be quick. 

Jungkook let his hand roam down your sides, touching and squeezing anything he could grab. Your blouse came first. He anxiously toyed with the few buttons it had and you both made quick work of undoing them until you could feel the chill air of the storage room on your chest. It made you remember what you had on underneath, and you cursed to yourself slightly when you realized it wasn’t anything cute, just a regular, plain black bra. But you found some relief in the fact that it was dark in here. You could still barely see Jungkook even after a few minutes had passed. However, Jungkook must have superhuman eyes because you felt him pull back for a second, and you thought you could see him staring because of the faint outline cast onto him from the light underneath the door. 

And he was staring. How could he not? You took his breath away every time he saw you. You were too kind for doing this, and deep down he knew that it was likely because of how pitiful he looked. It was probably the only reason any of this was happening. You gave him the same look that everyone else did. Dr. Min, Jimin, Dae-Jung… he’d seen it too many times. He hated it. He hated the pity. They just didn’t understand, you didn’t either apparently, that he deserved everything he got. 

To try and rid himself of his darkening thoughts, he quickly kissed you once again as his hand trailed up your thigh to push your short skirt up. It pleased him more than anything when he felt your soft skin, letting him know you were wearing thigh-highs once again.

Jungkook groaned into the kiss, a burning desire returning all too quickly. No, no— this was about you. As much as he might want to have you, he was being too greedy. Even though Yuri wasn’t here, he could hear her words filled with disappointment at him for being so selfish. You already fucked him a few days ago, and despite his pathetic begging, you gave him his first blowjob. It had been all about him so far, and you’d given more than he ever deserved. If he could only stop thinking with his dick for five seconds, maybe he could make you feel even a quarter of what you gave him—

Tears pricked his eyes with just the feeling of having you so close as your hands ran over his shirt—

“Wanna make you feel good…” Jungkook said, far too shakily. His hand snaked in between your bodies, his eager fingers shocked to meet the wetness of your panties.

“Please, Jungkook, please,” you cried out as quietly as you could. You couldn’t take it anymore. He quickly learned he wasn’t like Yuri; begging worked far too well on him. 

Jungkook stepped out from between your legs to give himself a little more room. But right before you could complain at the distance, Jungkook put a reassuring grip on your waist and his other hand traced the expanse of your covered thighs ever so lightly. Your breath was shaky the closer he grew to where you wanted— no, needed him, as his fingers lightly ran over your stockings, your body going into overdrive anytime he’d inch a little closer. 

“Fuck—” you whined, enjoying the light teasing, but you wanted more. You had no idea what he was doing, but every touch felt so sensitive. He finally pushed past your skirt and played with the hem of your stockings, pulling them back and letting them snap lightly back into place. 

You both moaned. 

“You’re so hot, I—” Jungkook groaned, but didn’t finish what he was going to say because something about that seemed to have set him off. He buried his face in your neck, quickly planting desperate kisses along your skin as his hand finally made their way to your panties once more, rubbing the soaked fabric. 

The way you practically yelped when you felt his fingers running over your slit was a little embarrassing. The way he made you feel didn’t make any sense. Jungkook knew just the way to touch you that had you practically bucking into his hand as he finally settled his fingers on your clit. Despite his lack of experience in other subjects, Jungkook certainly knew how to touch the little bud the right way, though he already proved that to you the last time.

You gripped the table hard as waves of pleasure traversed your whole body, stimulating an eagerness you hadn’t felt in a while. It reminded you of college, being on your own for the first time in your life, and how that freedom came with a need to explore. It was good. You both didn’t know each other’s bodies yet, but you still found ways to make each other feel good and forget about the countless deadlines that loomed over you. 

Jungkook gave you that rush all over again. A youthful rush that you only thought was possible to feel before you hit your second decade. 

He must have noticed your growing frustration because his fingers finally pulled the soaked fabric to the side, and you were able to feel him without any barrier in the way. You were absolutely soaked, embarrassingly so. Over the buzzing of the AC in the background, the squelches of his fingers running through your drenched folds filled the room and made your cheeks burn.

In the dark all your senses were heightened. You felt Jungkook’s body on yours and his soft sighs of pleasure right in your ear as he rubbed himself lightly against your thigh. In the heat of it, you could tell he was holding himself back, how he wanted more but seemed keen on his promise to make you feel good this time. 

Your body grew hotter by the second and the moment his fingers settled on your clit once again, drawing fast, teasing circles, while you struggled not to scream out loud. You quickly had to wrap your hands around his shoulders to stop yourself from crying out for any unlucky coworker who happened to be walking by to hear.

Even though the closet was slightly secluded in a hallway not many usually walked through, it certainly wasn’t far from where they did. You could even hear them in the far distance, the sounds of murmured voices growing louder before fading off, or the hurried clicking of heels through the tiled halls. They would definitely hear if you weren’t quiet.

But Jungkook was making that almost an impossible task by the way he was touching you. And you only wanted more.

“Jungkook!” His name tumbled from your lips far too loudly, your mind a little fuzzy, but you just needed him.

Suddenly, you felt a soft kiss on your cheek and then another one on your neck, a little slower this time in pulling away. 

“Can I taste you?” Jungkook lightly moaned in your ear, so gentle and soft in the way he asked. Tingles spread through your whole body and a whole new wave of arousal soaked his fingers. 

It was criminal how pretty he sounded. 

“Please,” you whined as quietly as you could, tears pricking your eyes. You’d never been so turned on before. The shame at the realization that this was happening at your workplace filled you for a second, but Jungkook pulling his hand away and lightly running over your thigh quickly brought you back. 

You groaned as you watched his faint outline move back between your legs and drop down to his knees. You could see the faint glimmer of his eyes as he bent down, his eager, yet innocent expression a deadly combination in such a compromising position like this one. But his innocence proved to be merely a facade. Jungkook quickly placed your legs over his shoulders, wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold them in place, and tugged you closer to the edge of the table. He was close enough that you could feel his shaky breath against your soaked folds. A shudder ran through your body. Maybe it was good you couldn’t really see him. You already knew you enjoyed the sight of him on his knees too much.

Suddenly, you felt light kisses trailing up your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you wanted him. “Want to make you feel good,” Jungkook softly sighed. “Just want to make someone feel good.” It was quiet, and you only just picked it up before Jungkook buried himself between your thighs.

You were certainly unprepared. Your mind was too fuzzy, all you knew was you needed to feel him. But your assumption about his lack of experience was once again proved to be incorrect.

Jungkook instantly got to work pleasing your body, planting soft kisses along the expanse of your inner thighs, growing closer until you whined when he kissed between your soaked folds. You had to swallow back a moan when you felt his tongue licking run up your slit. He was eager and didn't hold back once he found your clit. You groaned, feeling the tentative patterns he drew around the bud, skilled, knowing exactly what to do to have you seeing stars already.

“Fuck.” You wanted to scream, cry out, do something. The fact you couldn’t, turned you on in a way that confused you, but also frustrated you to no end. 

Your hand raked through his hair, moving him closer and making sure he didn’t pull away anytime soon. You knew you could cum from this if he kept at it long enough. You never knew how much a little foreplay could rile you up, but for some reason you found yourself close to the edge already, even though he’d barely started. 

Jungkook really didn’t need to do too much to affect you, but he was such an eager boy, desperate to please, and he wanted to give you the full experience despite the dwindling time you had before someone would start questioning where you both were. 

Jungkook pulled away slightly and replaced his tongue with enthusiastic fingers, going back to pumping you with two, and tears pricked your eyes when he managed to fit in a third. 

“Oh! Fu-oh,” you cried, and Jungkook couldn’t help but think the sounds you made were the hottest thing he’d ever heard.

Yuri wasn’t loud— Jungkook never knew how to take it, whether that meant he was doing a good job or not or if she was just on the quieter side. The only reason why he didn’t go crazy thinking it must be because he was terrible was because it was the only regular aspect of their sex lives. But with you, he decided he preferred the cute way you tried your best to keep quiet, but occasionally when he’d touch you just right, you’d make these adorable squeaks.

Your hand had found its way into his hair again, and with the way you held him close, you were practically fucking yourself against his tongue. You were a little rough, your grip tight, but he liked the way it stung. Your desperation was affecting him and he just wanted to make you feel good. He liked the way you were using him. It felt good to be used, needed, wanted, even if it was just for a second. 

He was sloppy, not bothering to try and keep things classy. His mouth was practically covered in your arousal, but he loved it. You tasted amazing. Seeing you like this was amazing. Even though it was dark, he could see the way your eyebrows were furrowed by the faint glow coming through the cracks in the door. You were breathtaking. It made the strain in his slacks worsen, seeing you turn into a mess the longer he kept going. He was hardly keeping it together as it was. You probably felt it before he even dropped to his knees. He was hard, but he had to keep it together. This was about you, only you. 

What would Yuri say if she knew how riled up he was getting even after you already gave him so much? She would be disappointed and so would you. He’s been so selfish. He just had to make you feel good—

Jungkook hoped you wouldn’t notice, but he was crying again. One tear fell, then two, then they just wouldn’t stop. 

Jungkook groaned into your pussy, a mix of frustration and delight. You were so good, he had to be good for you too. And that seemed to be what it took to get you to start hurdling off the edge.

“Koo— Jungkook— fuck— fuck— close.” Your feeble attempts at being quiet were all in vain as your desperation grew for sweet release. 

Jungkook was somehow able to make sense of your whimpering and quickly picked up the pace. He hastily switched back to using his mouth and wanted more than anything for you to finish on his tongue. 

He was back with his skilled tongue, and your sensitivity brought you to the edge all too quickly. Jungkook focused on your bundle of nerves again, going from tracing to sucking to the point that you were a writhing mess in his arms. Your thighs tightened around his face, your grip in his hair growing tighter, making him groan out, the pleasure and pain a combination that made the ache somehow even worse. You were shaking in his grasp, your hushed whines growing more incoherent, and oh— he wanted to see you cum. 

He felt like he could cum all over again. Embarrassing.

It wasn’t long after that Jungkook watched with eager eyes as you fell apart on his tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure kept hitting you. Jungkook helped you ride it out, easing up a bit, but staying close. You felt like you were riding on cloud nine, and for a second you even forgot where you were. The little closet disappeared, the company building disappeared, maybe the whole world vanished, leaving your mind in a state of bliss. It was just you and Jungkook and the overwhelming blissful end he gave you.

It took more than a moment for you to recover, your ragged breathing filling the space as you tried to pull yourself together. Jungkook eventually pulled away when you started to whine from the overstimulation.

It had never felt like that before. You could only imagine what type of pleasure he’d bring you under better conditions. This was going to be a problem. This was going to have to end one day, and you couldn’t get too attached.

After some time, Jungkook shakily rose to his feet. His body felt like it was on fire. You had nearly made him cum as he watched you reach your peak, it was too hot seeing you like that. Normally someone who’s always so put together and neat, you looked like a complete mess, and it just reaffirmed his earlier concern that, in fact, he enjoyed seeing you like that.

Horrible, wasn’t it?

Jungkook could hardly look away, his body screaming out to have you. The thought of walking out when he felt like this was unbearable, but this was about you, this needed to be about you. He didn’t want to disapp—

Then all of a sudden, your hands were on his shoulders, pulling him closer in an instant. He was back between your legs, and before he could question it any further, you were pulling him in for a fervent kiss. 

You seemed not to care that he was still covered in your juices and Jungkook had to fight back the urge to buck into you like a wild animal at the thought. Yuri hated when he tried to kiss her afterward, she hated kissing him anyways.

He settled into it, one hand on your waist, the other lightly cupping your cheek. As much as he was trying to control himself, you made it impossible with the way your hands raked over his body, the thread of self-control he tried to maintain for your sake quickly withered away. With each second, he grew closer, to the point you were pressed right against each other. You could certainly feel it now, the way his body pleaded for yours. Jungkook had to quickly pull away, his eyes growing watery all over again. 

“Wait!” He cried. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to at all. He could see your confusion in the darkness.

“This was about you— I promised— I—” It hurt so badly. He wanted you so badly.

You relaxed at his words. 

“Well, I want you, so—” You started to rationalize, but Jungkook wasn’t having it.

“But—”

Instead of going back and forth and letting this turn into a long discussion, you decided to take action instead. Your hands found their way to his belt and quickly started to undo the strap. His breath was heavy as the buckle jingled when you finally managed to get it undone, and you didn’t give him any time to process before you went for his pants next and reached in to pull him out.

Jungkook groaned into your shoulder, feeling your hand wrap around his length. You lightly ran your hand down to the base and then back up, tracing your thumb along his leaky tip.

“Oh— oh— oh!” You were making it so hard for him. It was cruel. “I’ll wait, I’ll…I’ll…” The words were for himself more than you. He needed to keep himself in line, he had to.

“Mmmm, you certainly don’t feel like you want to wait,” you chuckled breathlessly. It was only meant to be a light tease, but you felt him shaking. His soft sniffles let you know he was actually crying.

“I’m sorry…” he sobbed. He felt like he had disappointed you. His body had betrayed him in a way that made Yuri scream at him anytime he tried to pull her close afterward. He wasn’t in control, he should be better than this, she’d always say. 

“Jungkook, didn't you hear me earlier? I said I wanted you.” Instead of the degradation he was expecting, the softness of your voice as you pulled him a little closer melted him in your grasp. You couldn’t even imagine the things he’d been told that would make him think this way.

You couldn’t really see it, but Jungkook was staring at you wide-eyed. For some reason, he was having issues processing your words. They just didn’t make sense. He had already taken too much, hadn’t he? But the simple thought of you wanting more had him subtly moving his cock within your grip.  

“Do you want to do this?” You asked when you noticed his movement. 

Despite your confession earlier, Jungkook found it hard to admit how much he wanted to fuck you. You took it upon yourself to help him, bringing his tip to your soaked folds and letting it run through your arousal. 

“Fuck— Y/n!” he whined. It instantly got a reaction from him, his need soaring beyond all reason. He couldn’t think straight anymore, and all he could focus on was the thought of finally slipping inside you again, just like he’d been imagining over the last few days.

“Do you want this?” You repeated, still so soft. Not a demand that he had to fulfill, but a genuine question asking if he wanted more from this. 

For a second, he didn’t answer, the sound of his breathing growing more labored as you ran his cock up and down your slick. He couldn’t answer. You felt so good and he was trying his best to get back in control, to not be so weak as Yuri would always say, but you made it so hard. 

He wanted to fuck you, and he probably would have pushed into you right then and there if suddenly he didn’t remember something.

“I— I still don’t have any condoms with me,” Jungkook cried, tears slipping down his cheeks as he fell into your shoulder. Fuck— how was he going to walk away from this?

“We don’t need one— I’m still on the pill, remember?” You pulled him away so you could look him in the eye. “If you’re ok with it, we could continue, but if you’re not comfortable doing that again, that’s completely fine.” You smiled, and there was genuine concern behind your gaze.

Jungkook normally wasn’t the risky type when it came to sex. He barely had sex enough for a habit like that to even be established, but with Yuri he was always so careful. She would never forgive him for even taking the chance of getting her pregnant, and he didn’t want it either. Not when he was like this, clinging to life by only a few short strands. With Yuri, he made sure things were right no matter his desperation, but with you… Once was risky enough, the heat of emotions causing protection to completely slip his mind. He had remembered this time, but after hearing your reassurance, his usual caution was thrown to the wind and all he could care about was feeling you.

In a haste, Jungkook took it upon himself to finally guide his cock into your warmth, moving your hand out of the way while he grabbed his length and finally slipped it into your slick hole. He watched your expression intently as it turned from surprise into bliss, pleasure overtaking your features, and you just looked so pretty. It made his desperation worse as your tight warmth enveloped him. You were so wet; he slipped in so easily, like you needed him just as badly as he needed you. 

Jungkook had to fight back the urge to sob. After so many days of playing your night together over and over in his head, his imagination could never compare to how good you felt in real life. Despite his earlier indulgence, Jungkook had to fight tooth and nail to deter himself from filling you up right away. You had had to deal with that once already, he couldn’t disappoint you— not again. The fact that you were even doing this with him was gracious enough. He couldn’t keep putting you through his failures.

Jungkook tried to slow his breathing down while he waited for you to get adjusted and for himself to calm down enough to move without instantly blowing his load. Even now, you were making it difficult in the way you were squeezing around him, and he already knew he wouldn’t last very long no matter how hard he tried.

You noticed he was tense and planted a few kisses across his cheeks, but Jungkook pushed your face so your lips would finally meet his again, engaging in another passionate kiss that only made you squeeze somehow even tighter around him.

Jungkook broke the kiss and let out something between a groan and a whine. “Fuck— fuck— I—” He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t just going to cum right then and there. Embarrassing.

“I’m sorry— so sorry.” He cried. “I don’t think I’ll make it very long…” You would probably want nothing to do with him after this.

You went back to kissing his cheeks. “Don’t stress, ok? Fuck me how you want to, don’t hold back for me.” Your warm smile could be seen even in the darkness. You looked like an angel…

Your words set a fire inside him. Fuck me how you want to— you were far too nice for someone as pathetic as he was. But as shameful as it was, he enjoyed your sympathy.

Jungkook didn’t hold back anymore and finally started moving his hips. You both moaned, but quickly realized the volume of your mistake, pulling each other into another kiss instead. You both swallowed each other's cries amidst the sounds of clothes ruffling, and the wet, slick sound of his quickening pace pumping into your heat. The table you were sitting on started to creak with his hurried struggle to properly feel you again.

Jungkook rolled his hips in a way that made your toes curl and had you struggling to keep quiet. He was good, settling into a nice, rhythmic roll after a few desperate thrusts in the beginning. His size filled you up in all the right places, a satisfying stretch that you could more than just grow used to. 

It wasn’t long before you both had turned into a tangled mess of limbs trying to feel each other. Jungkook had buried himself in your shoulder. Kissing you grew impossible. Instead, he cried out as silently as he could into your skin. 

He managed to delay his release for longer than he had expected, but the rush still came on quicker than he would have liked. 

“Close!” He whined as quietly as he could before picking up the pace. He couldn’t last much longer with the way you were squeezing around him. It was all too much, and before he could even try and hold it back any longer, his hips stilled and he filled you up with everything he could give.

Jungkook quickly pulled you into a kiss as his hand made its way between your bodies, and his fingers hastily found your clit again. He started making hurried motions around the bud until you were clinging onto his shoulders while your next orgasm surged through your body. You both were out of breath as the heat of the moment began to simmer down. It was the first moment he was finally able to think clearly again. There was one half of him that looked at you with the utmost admiration, someone far too kind to be messing with him. He never thought he could get enough of you. Then there was the other half…

The post-bliss clarity made him look at the situation as it truly was. He was cheating. This had truly turned into cheating. He’d betrayed Yuri’s trust, and there was nothing he could ever do to regain it. He didn't deserve to. But as horrible as it was, Jungkook found himself wanting to do it with you all over again, to have you in his arms so the world would melt away and he could just indulge. 

But unfortunately, the other half looked at you with the same shame and disgust he held for himself. All you were now was a reminder of how horrible of a person he’d become, and he couldn’t stand it.  

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[etheries1015]

The Demon brothers w/ MC who has arachnophobia

Arachnophobia: the irrational and extreme fear of spiders

TW: Arachnophobia, panic attacks, vomit

Overview: The brothers decide to make a bet on who can find your fear, and when one hits home and they don’t get the reaction they were truly hoping for, they comfort you in your time of panic. 

Featuring: Lucifer, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Mammon, Satan

WARNING: I wrote this almost two years ago and it’s been just sitting inside of my drafts wasting away until I could find the motivation to write for the last couple of brothers. I did not find that motivation lol. So this has not been proofread, and I decided to just throw it into the pit of fire and share it anyway! Hope you like it nonetheless, but it definitely is not the best of my works. Please keep this in mind while reading.

Otherwise, take a look at my master list to see other works I do! 

Authors note: Based my reaction to real things I personally feel regarding arachnophobia . I can't even look at pictures of them without feeling sick to my stomach, so the reaction is truly how I would feel in this situation... Hope I'm not the only one with this extreme fear, and hopefully its a little relatable.

Scenario:

There weren't many things the MC is afraid of, so it seems.

"So...MC, tell me," Solomon started, "If being surrounded by all of these demons and magic doesn't shake you up, what DOES scare you?" He smiled gently, that mysterious smile. Around the dinner table were all of the brothers during a community dinner at the House of Lamentation, staring intently at MC who only shrunk down into their seats. Chuckling nervously, MC rolled their eyes in slight annoyance.

"That...is something I'm not going to share with you," a cheerful smile planted upon their lips.

That was the very sentence that brought us to our...current situation.

A week passed, the brothers tried everything from ghost stories to walks in the woods late at night. Pretty tame, don't you think? They had a list of different possible fears a normal human may have, since the typical situations the MC found themselves in the devildom seem to not leave a dent in their confidence or bravery. One night, during meal preparation, came their next plan.

"Spiders? Really, Mammon? Levi?" Asmodeus sassily crossed his arms shaking his head in disapproval, leaning against the countertop.

"Hey, trust me. I read this thing -"

"You, Reading?" Satan interrupted Mammon, causing the brothers to snicker.

"Shut it!" Mammon growled, taking a small plastic spider and setting it in the bowl of food meant for MC, "I'm sure ima win this one," he proudly proclaimed, "I looked up a buncha different human fears and this seemed to be a popular one."

"You guys are such kids..." Belphie yawned, trudging to the dining room, "Let’s go eat, Beel."

The red-headed twin looked back at the bowl with a worried expression before turning back on his heel to follow his brother. Each of them entered the dining room where MC sat waiting, along with the group from purgatory hall. A smile was planted on their lips as they joked with the angels and fellow human, thanking Mammon as he set their food in front of them.

"Ah..." MC looked up at Mammon with a confused look, "Thank...you? I could have dished up myself-"

Mammon cut them off saying something rushed and embarrassed along the lines of "I can be nice when I want to, don't get the wrong idea, though!" Before taking his own seat.

The brothers stared in anticipation, watching MC lead the spoon up to their lips

Looking back down at the bowl, MC froze in shock for a moment.

That was when they saw it.

Your reaction

With a shaking hand, you drop the spoon and covered your mouth with your hand, ready to throw up. You quickly pushed the chair back causing it to fall, running to the nearest garbage to throw up what you had eaten. At this point, you were now a shaking, sobbing mess. Your heart was beating so fast, the reveal of the spider in your meal replaying in your head. You couldn't even bring yourself to close your eyes to try and collect yourself, all you could see was that...wretched creature every time you saw darkness.

Their reaction:

Lucifer:

He sensed the immense fear from you immediately and quickly took the initiative to remove the bowl from your grasp.

Though he had taken away the source, he could feel the buildup of fear continue.

He stared in shock for a moment, even though he took away the bowl, you still had reacted the way you did.

After getting over the moment of shock from your state, he had rushed to your side.

He had never seen you so shaken up, he wasn't sure if he should even touch you in fear of making it somehow worse.

Excused himself and you from the table to take you to the kitchen to breath, hugging you when he knew it was okay to do so. (We love consent here)

He thought it was silly, fearing something so small when you don't even struggle with CERBERUS, a literal giant demon dog.

"I don't fully understand the reasoning, but..." He cupped your cheeks with his long, slender fingers gently , looking you intently in the eyes, "I will not allow some little bug take away your smile from us. Or me."

Has the house deep cleaned for any cobwebs or reminders of spiders, he knows how it feels to be so afraid of something that any reminder of said fear is painful, no matter how little or big that fear may be.

Hung Mammon up for the entire idea

This man would protect you from anything, even from a small insect that he has no understanding the fear behind it.

Mammon:

Poor puppy had no idea what to do other than panic, color draining from his face the second he saw your shaking hand and the yelp of fear escape your lips.

Doesn't apologize at first with words, but with actions.

Runs to your side while you are doubled over in fear over the garbage can, wanted to pat your back but instead he just awkwardly waits for you to look at him once you're done throwing up.

Oh boy. He looks like a kicked puppy the second he saw the tears streaming down your face, shaking like crazy.

Wasn't sure what to say, so he just pulled you into his arms.

"I'm ....sorry," he mumbled, awkwardly patting your back in attempt to comfort you.

Will tease you after though, and brag that he won for finding out your fear.

Never did it again, and is secretly on the look out for any spiders around you or the house so he can rid of it before you see it.

He's weak for your tears <3

Leviathan:

He doesn't even know what to do, when you start running to the garbage can he only stares in surprise.

Honestly , he probably isn't the type to actively comfort you right away, he's trying to think of what he could do to help later on instead.

Walks up to you while you're calming down, before asking if you are okay 

Genuinely doesn't understand the fear behind such a small creature, there are millions of other things much scarier in the games you play together.

He would give behind the scenes comfort, making sure his brothers don't bring anything regarding spiders up, and will make sure to proof watch/read manga, anime, and games to make sure it doesn't have anything to trigger your arachnophobia

"I know you think I'm just a weird gross otaku but... I care about these things too! I'll make sure you can enjoy all of our anime and gameplay nights without worrying about something like that!"

Cuddles and anime night with a comfort anime of your choice.

Asmodeus:

He definitely doesn't understand the reasoning behind such a fear, but he too, is willing to ignore that fact when it comes to you.

He doesn't LIKE them because they are unsightly, but for sure isn't AFRAID of them, and thought at first you were the same.

That was...until he saw the genuine fear in your eyes after he ran after you and patted your back as you vomited.

He doesn't do anything directly to help you avoid spiders, but will do anything to comfort you. Head rubs, movie nights in his room, he is more of a .... "Distract yourself from your problems and fears instead of face them" kind of demon.

"Look at me , into my eyes. Forget those awful little things," he gently grabs your hand and sets his forehead against yours, "they can't hurt you, darling. It'll be okay. If you're still scared, shall we sleep together tonight?" He giggles.

He loves you and tries very hard to make you feel better, since your being is (almost) more important than his own. But he isn't always the best at this, since loving others more than him is a bit of a new concept.

He's trying for you xoxo

Satan:

He never thought he would ever see you break with something like this

But understands well enough, he had extended knowledge on different human fears, all the better for his class on manipulating humans...

The calm one, cleaning up the mess while the others panic to be by your side.

Angrily lectures all of the brothers on arachnophobia and the side effects and reactions you may have if this happened again.

Whispering sweet words of comfort as you sob and shake in his arms. Gently rubbing your back while glaring at the brothers. While they could sense your fear, Satan's anger was far greater.

Does blame himself a little bit, since he was aware of the plan but didn't particularly do anything to actively stop it. But makes up for it xoxo

"I know a good cat café near by, if you're up for it, I'll buy you whatever you want as an apology." He kissed your forehead gently.

Before suggesting any books to read, he proof reads them for any sign of spiders, pictures or in depth descriptions could be just as traumatizing! 

Since his room is always a constant mess of books, it’s bound to become dusty. Now, before you enter his room, he makes sure that even if his books are not cleaned up, that the cobwebs and dust is taken care of. 

[jennifer-jeong]

Angst + Fluff | Ryomen Sukuna x Reader Next time

hehehe see what I did with the header picture, they're leaning on each other (you'll get it if you read)

SUMMARY Sukuna promises you he’ll be better for you in your next lives.

CONTENT NOT SPOILER FREE, suggestive, angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, it’s supposed to be a happy ending if you pretend that things don’t go according to canon LOL, very OC Sukuna so he actually has emotions, near death experiences, injuries, blood, death, suicide, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOR NOTES I can’t write canon Sukuna because he doesn’t even like humans 💀 Basically this is pookie Sukuna LOL There’s a lot of deviation from canon in this fic. I'm probably going to make a smut portion to this in a separate fic so stay tuned hehe, I'll link it here if I finish it!

WORD COUNT: 2244 why did this turn out so long... maybe I actually do like him

Back in the Heian period (a millenia ago), Ryomen Sukuna, “the king of curses,” peaked in power. At the same time, you were just getting started with your adult life. Unfortunately at this moment, however, it seemed that it would be cut short. A strong, locust-like, curse manifested in your village and you’ve been trying your best to stop it but to no avail. In fact, it’s currently pinning your body to the ground, trying to bite your head off. You imagine that the curse came to be due to the fear of famine in your farms, but you didn’t think it’d be this strong. You struggle but the curse is much larger than you are. You don’t even know what your last words should be, your mind going blank in panic. Your life starting to flash before your eyes-

“I suggest you fuck off my turf,” says a dangerously domineering voice. The curse looks up down the road and sees something you can’t in your current position. You barely need to look to figure out who it is though. The curse above you freezes in pure fear and eases up on crushing your body in a jolt. You hear the same voice “tsk” at the curse’s “disrespectful” hesitation and suddenly the giant bug flies in a seemingly random direction before essentially exploding due to the force. You sit up slightly with shock evident on your face, you turn around to finally see your unfortunate savior. He takes your silent shock as confusion and explains “the area is mine… filthy curses have no right to do as they please around here.” Your body feels heavy from the sheer aura of power he gives off but you can’t help but still make a mildly disgusted face at him for what he’s saying. You’ve heard he treats humans like livestock and you have always despised him for having power like that and choosing to do this instead of something good. He makes an angered face back saying “hah?” and just when you start to regret your choice of facial expression, he rolls his eyes and walks away. You pause for a few seconds before taking a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You mutter a “thanks” that you don’t think he hears before heading back to your home to tend your wounds.

Sukuna had been watching you recently. It was no coincidence that he appeared in front of you that night. He first noticed you when you were able to kill any of the curses that attacked your village. He watched, quite amused, that you continued to struggle with no fear against these monsters while the rest of your idiotic village sat back and watched, some even calling you insane despite you saving their lives. Sukuna doesn’t understand why you don’t just beat up the humans that don’t listen. You let them take advantage of your kindness even though you could wipe them all out with an arm tied behind your back. You’re overly kind but you still have the guts to stand up to someone like him. He heard your small mutter of gratitude while he walked away and smiled slightly. He’s never met someone he actually felt bad for in this way. He’s found something he feels pity for, and it’s enough to make him want to protect it, treat it like it’s special.

So now you’re here, a few days later in his temple, bowing 90 degrees in front of him with an offering in your hand. You came here to show him respect for not killing you or the other villagers. He’s impressed you even found him and more impressed that you made the trek here. He walks towards you and reaches for your chin with his hand to make you look at him and stand up. His eyes inspect your slightly flustered face while his thumb very slightly caresses your chin. He releases his hold on your face and takes the offering. You stand there, still on guard and weary of the man. But you know he hasn’t done anything to your village in the time that you’ve been alive, you just know he’s the “disgraced one” and that it can’t be good.

For the next few weeks, your time is spent half at the village and half at Sukuna’s temple. He decided to help you with the journey by just teleporting you with a “simple” technique that you couldn’t comprehend. You slowly discover that Sukuna is actually just so strong he’s bored, no one really stands on equal ground with him. Even if all the sorcerers in the world fought him, he’s confident he’d win, and you don’t doubt it (canon).

He thinks it’s cute that you still go back to the village to help out here and there. He’s only okay with it now because he can watch over you and intervene if anyone wants to be rude. Many of the villagers are kind to you from a distance, only some actually approach you to thank you from time to time. A small group of the villagers unfortunately highly suspect you to be a curse of some sort though and don’t trust you because you’re so powerful. You’ve only ever done good with your power and you know that for a fact, so you ignore them. Sukuna, however, sits in his temple absolutely fuming whenever they interact with you, he’d maim them if you told him to, but you specifically told him he can’t hurt any humans unless they attack first.

Sukuna enjoys watching your little daily endeavors, smiling whenever you’re clumsy while cleaning or when you accomplish hunting down and killing some curses. It brings a sense of innocent joy to his life that he hasn’t ever really had. He’s had violent, murderous joy in his life, but nothing like this before. Some might say it made him soft, but really it made him stronger in a sense, he finally had something to protect.

As time goes on and seasons change, you and Sukuna only grow closer. You can’t explain why you’re still here with someone you used to hate with every fiber of your being. You think it might have something to do with how he actually sees you. He sees your struggle and your kindness and properly appreciates you for it. No one else in your life has done that for you. No one protects you and cares for you like he does. You also learned that he’s always been pretty good or at least neutral in using his power too. Only killing humans when attacked, beating up strong sorcerers but not killing them, and killing curses that bother him in his land. He was never actually as bad as the rumors made him out to be. Basically, Sukuna fell first and fell harder before you realized that you had fallen all the same.

Sukuna can’t help but be a little obsessive over you. You’re the only one he has eyes for afterall. He always checks in to make sure you’re safe when you aren’t at the temple and actually learns how to cook new dishes so he can feed you. His touches always linger on you: his hands on the small of your back, fingers brushing through your hair, lips ghosting over your skin. When you spend nights together, he’s essentially worshiping your body, telling you how beautiful you are and how he’s all yours. You make sure to return the favor and make him feel loved, it makes his heart feel so full and only deepens his love for you.

You’ve discovered overtime that Sukuna is actually human, he’s just so unbelievably strong and feared that people think he’s a curse. It was strange, you could almost draw a parallel between Sukuna and yourself. Both of you were feared by some because they just didn’t understand you or your intentions. It was an unfortunate part of this reality, but as long as you could live happily together, you didn’t really mind.

Another unfortunate part of this reality, though, was that things never go according to plan. Your plans of living happily together with Sukuna quickly fell apart soon after your 3 year anniversary. The sorcerers knew that they could use you to bait Sukuna and have a much better chance at defeating him. So that’s exactly what they did. They caught you when you were out in the village in the late summer. You were strong, but there were too many of them.

It was doomed before it even started.

In the end, Sukuna is out of energy, being forced to fight offensively instead of defensively if he wanted to save you. You managed to escape to return to him and help, but you were both quickly overwhelmed since the sorcerers decided to play dirty like this. You were both sitting outside of the temple, having teleported away to buy some time. You both just sit and talk. “Have we even killed anything other than curses recently?” you question. He chuckles at your seemingly lighthearted question in this situation, “not that I can think of… I think this was always coming for me though.” You look up at him with concern, he can only smile back even though you can see the clear sorrow in his eyes. “Humans are always scared of what they don’t understand. It’s just how it is” he says as he closes his eyes and enjoys the sun. The warmth drying the blood on both of you, some of it belonging to you both, most of it belonging to your attackers. You’re silent, not sure of what to say in what seems to be your last few moments. He leans on you and you turn your head to touch foreheads. He sighs and says “I’m glad I met you at all though… You showed me what being loved is like. It was something I never thought I’d find or deserve.” You start to tear up and reach a hand to caress his cheek. “You always deserved love, darling. I’m sorry the world was so horrible to you,” you say to him in a gentle voice. “Don’t apologize, love” he says as he kisses your forehead and wraps an arm around you.

“Maybe if we can get them to hate us enough, they’ll curse us together and we can live on like that” you say jokingly. He chuckles and says “wow you really do like me, huh?” You both laugh and hold each other.

A group of sorcerers are within view and are approaching fast. You give him one last kiss and speak your last words to him: “maybe we’ll reincarnate together someday. Maybe as curses, maybe as humans.” His eyes soften with sadness written all over his face “if that happens, I promise our lives won’t be like this one… I want to be a good man for you next time… I’d give all this power up if I could just live a long and happy life with you.” You close your eyes as tears fall. Your eyebrows scrunch as the pain washes over you, physically and emotionally. You see him tear up ever so slightly and whisper “I’m sorry for all the trouble, my love.” “Just make it up to me next time,” you giggle. He knows you never blamed him. He smiles.

You always knew what you were getting into when you approached Sukuna. It was dangerous, delusional, and stupid. But you know you would’ve never had it any other way.

You both still sat side by side, foreheads touching, holding each other. You quickly charged two shots of cursed energy. One piercing his skull, the other, yours.

You eventually become a small part mentioned by people when they retell the tale of the king of curses. Many described you as a traitor or as a curse. But some could see that you prevented Sukuna from spiraling deeper into his distaste for humans. Without you, he might have become a sadistic psychopath as time went on since no one would have any way to kill him. They praised you for that, thinking you did it on purpose to save the nearby villages. Both these ideas were lost in history though. In modern times it’s only written in some books at jujutsu high as hypotheses. No one truly knew what happened.

Sukuna’s powers sealed into his fingers upon death. A technique he used on himself before he met you and one he long forgot about. The sorcerers, out of fear, scattered his indestructible fingers to prevent anyone getting their hands on them and reincarnating the king of curses. Hoping to keep the man dead.

Again, reality makes sure things don’t go to plan, and it’s Yuji’s first day meeting some of his classmates. Sukuna has been wondering what to do since he’s been reincarnated into Yuji’s body. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet in Yuji’s mind and it makes everyone question if Sukuna is really the evil being they all thought he was.

Sukuna is barely paying attention until he feels a familiar warmth walk into the room, not even needing to see you to know who you were. He couldn’t believe it, he almost laughed, thinking that the universe really brought you two back together after more than a thousand years. But he paused, suddenly serious because he realized he had a chance to make things, not right, but different.

After class, Sukuna switches with Yuji, and lo and behold, you show him the exact same disgusted face you made to him centuries ago when he came to greet you in Yuji’s body. It made him smile as he let out a whisper,

“I missed you.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[ellewritesalright]

Nine Long Years - Part 7

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 6 --- Masterlist

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Well... long time no see. I'm happy to finally share this part. it's been several months in the works since I have been very busy with college. So thank you to all who have stuck around. This part takes place around the start of the Ruin and Rising book, and is a fair bit shorter than the last few parts have been (btw I can't believe I've written over 40k words for this series) but I hope you all like it. I went a bit easier with the angst than I expected by giving these two a slight break

Warnings: mentions of death, angst and fluff, mentions of sickness, injury, panic attacks, firepox. If I'm missing something pls lmk

Word Count: 3,570

……….

SIXTH YEAR

Genya's handiwork stung. Though she was fixing your injuries, the nature of her Corporalki abilities was that she had to undo your injuries in a similar process as their infliction. You tried not to complain as she treated your fractured and cut shoulder, but you were still swallowing back a scream. Tamar ran a soothing hand along your head as she and Tolya held you down.

"Hold still for me." You could vaguely hear Genya say.

You gave a slight nod, all you could manage at the moment. The pain was excruciating. There was fire all along your shoulder blade and up and over to the corner of your collarbone where the Darlking's nichevo'ya had clawed at you. Like sticking a red hot iron to flesh. You were biting down so hard on the handle of Tamar's axe that you thought you might break a tooth. The Tailor's hands hovered over your shoulder and your body jolted but Tolya tightened his grip.

Everything was dark. It never occurred to you how musty and dank an underground tunnel system would be. You'd never considered a place like this could even exist. But here you were, below ground, in the darkest, dankest little "room" you'd ever been in. And no amount of candles or incense trays staved your new fear of the dark.

When you closed your eyes, you could see Nikolai. The way his eyes frantically found yours across the room. How he screamed when his brother was torn apart by the Darkling's shadow creatures. The silent nod of understanding as you guarded Alina while he helped his parents escape.

You wondered where he was now. With any luck, Nikolai escaped on the Kingfisher. He was safe and sound and able to fight the war while Alina and the rest of you were all underground. He had to be safe. Saints above and below, by the grace of Ghezen, and on the holiness of even the Fjerdan god, he had to be safe.

Because if he wasn't, you simply wouldn't know what to do. 

You felt the pain end, and you glanced back at the trio of corporalki behind you.

"There," Genya spoke softly, easing her hands away from your shoulder. "This is about all I can do. The scarring doesn't go away completely."

Her eyes dropped in shame, one of the scars on her cheek pulling as she frowned slightly. Tamar and Tolya had released you, and you sat up. You gently took Genya's hand, giving her a grateful smile.

"You've healed me to full strength, and that's all that matters," you said kindly. "Thank you."

She smiled back at you.

……….

Time blurred together underground. You were still guarding Alina, and you'd constantly accompany her through the elaborate tunnels. You didn't trust the Apparat running this little underground cult. He had come to Alina's aid, that was true enough. But there was no doubt in your mind that the snivelly, power-hungry little man had some ulterior motive. Nikolai had told you about him many years ago while at sea.

"The religious counsel to my father is a weasel of a fellow. That man would bite the head off a live snake if it meant he would gain control of a single chapel, let alone the whole of Ravka," Nikolai said of the Apparat. 

You could only hope Alina wasn't the snake in this case.

You worried for your sun summoner. It was no wonder that you all looked worn after your fight with the Darkling, but most of you had healed up despite your weariness. Yet Alina didn't seem to recover. She had lost use of her summoning in the past few months. It was difficult to say if that was because you were so far away from the sun, or because of the strain from her last fight with the Darkling; either way, you'd never seen her look so pale and sickly. 

"It doesn't seem like anything helps her," Mal worriedly whispered to you one evening as you two ate off to the side of the usual huddle your group maintained. "Not water, or food, or any sort of activity."

"She probably just needs sun," you said, trying to ease his mind. "Once we figure out how to escape this place, we'll get her above ground and she'll be better."

"What if that's not all? When she fought the Darkling--"

"Don't think on it, Oretsev." You cut him off. "That's no way to be, with your worrying. We'll get her out, and she'll get better. That's it."

Mal let out a long sigh and went back to eating.

Your words had carried conviction. You had no idea how your group would escape, but you didn't mention that. It was all you could do to lift your friends' spirits, even though you were as unsettled as you'd felt since you were a girl in a Ketterdam harbour.

In the evenings, you roomed with Tamar and Tolya. Often sleeping between them, their breathing--and Tolya's snoring--reminded you that you were alive and somehow safe, no matter how temporary.

But even so, the dank underground smelled like death. It was like you were back on the cobbles of Ketterdam, seeing your brothers in every corner of every dark cavern in this place. They haunted you, even here. And, with no one to distract you from them, no one to hold you and reassure you that you weren't at fault for their sickness, their ghosts dogged you all hours of the day.

There were a few children underground, and sometimes when they'd cry you could just feel the sobs your baby brother cried against your shoulder when Da had passed away. You could taste the sick you emptied into the harbour after you lost your brothers. 

It occurred to you that maybe this was your lot in life; maybe you were just meant to be haunted. You were plagued, for lack of a better word.

You couldn't count how many times a day your mind strayed to Nikolai. Worries or memories would surface, and you were unable to stave them just as you couldn't stave thoughts of your family. Truthfully, you didn't want to keep them at bay anymore. If you could die tomorrow and join your brothers, you would rather die with Nikolai in your thoughts than with nothing but fear and grief dogging your brain.

The anger you'd harboured for Nikolai had vanished. Your grudge seemed so insignificant now that you were separated like this. Everything seemed insignificant when you were trapped in a tomb.

At night the only reprieve you had from all the ghosts was when you'd finally fall asleep, your fingers clutching Nikolai's ring on the chain around your neck. 

……….

When you and your friends finally surfaced again, it was a mad dash escape from that weasel and his cult. 

You were running through some forest with them. You had no idea where you surfaced, all you knew was that it wasn't just the Aparat's cult after you, but a sect of Vasily's old Grisha-hating First Army. The soldiers were hot on your tails as you dashed through the trees. Tolya and Tamar were on your right, Genya was to your left, and Alina and Mal were slightly ahead of you. Shots were being fired behind you, and you weaved and ducked to avoid bullets as you ran aimlessly. Some of the Grisha you were travelling with used their skills to take on those in pursuit of you, but there were too many of them. 

Just when it felt as though you would never make it out of this forest and away from the soldiers, you heard a familiar shouting of command. Repeat revolvers starting gunning from above, and you grabbed Genya and ducked to the side as the Kingfisher flew overhead, taking out your remaining foes. 

It was all a blur as the flying ship landed. Your mind was whirring as Genya helped you to your feet, guiding you to the ship. You watched the others climb aboard, then you took your turn as well. As you clutched the wooden rails, you remembered the last time you'd been on this vessel, how you fell asleep below deck, curled up against Nikolai.

Nikolai.

As soon as he reentered your mind, your head was whipping around to catch sight of him, for surely he was here. It didn't take you long to hone in on him. He was speaking with Mal, grim expressions on both of their faces. Alina was there too, guzzling down a water flask; she looked automatically healthier now that she was out of the dirt and into the sun, but still not at full strength. Your eyes went to Nikolai again, and he seemed to be glancing around as well. When his eyes locked on yours, you swore you almost started to cry. The tension in his brow loosened, his strong shoulders relaxing for a second before he quickly excused himself from Mal and Alina. He strode directly over to you, bracing you in a hug. You clutched him back, face bundled in his chest as he gripped you so tightly.

There was a long moment in his arms as you embraced, but you both needed it. You'd gone months without knowing if each other were alive, much less alright.

"Thank every Saint that ever was," Nikolai chuckled in relief as he held you. He leaned back, bracing your arms. He noticed the rip in your jacket where the nichevo’ya had cut up your shoulder in the chapel. While the cult was able to provide a new shirt and trousers for you, there'd been no replacement jacket for you underground. "That's no good. Here." 

He shed his military coat and slung it over you. He dusted off the sleeves as you just stood there watching him. You'd almost forgotten how warm his hazel eyes were.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, his hands still holding to your forearms almost as if reminding himself that you were really there in front of him.

There was no way to tell him about your time underground, about the scar on your shoulder and the feeling that maybe your whole life was just haunted. It took everything in you to reply with hope.

"Better now," you whispered back, nodding softly.

He smiled regretfully at you. You knew him well enough to know that he had something to say, but you weren't going to pressure it out of him. The last time you'd seen him you were still upset with him over his engagement–something that felt inconsequential now. Months away from him had turned your anger to dust, and now you just wanted to wipe clean and move on as best as you could--with or without him.

Nikolai looked at you for a moment, then hugged you again. He whispered something in Kerch, an old saying that you could remember your Ma and Da saying to one another when you were younger and your world was a farm and a family that was whole.

"My soul knows no richer than yours," he muttered into your ear, speaking your native tongue in his pretty lilt.

You teared up slightly. Your hand made a weak fist against his chest as you replied in Kerch. "You're infuriating."

"I know." 

He cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his palm, staring at his soft hazel eyes.

"Go below deck, and I'll join you in a moment, alright?" He whispered kindly.

You nodded and made your way below. It took Nikolai longer than expected to join. There were others below deck, a few injured Grisha and Nikolai's First Army soldiers being tended to. You watched bones being reset, blood being transferred, and breathing assisted. You flinched as one of the soldiers coughed up blood, making a hauntingly familiar noise. Just as you looked away for fear of nausea, a hand grabbed yours. Nikolai had sat down beside you, and he gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

He let you lean into his side as the two of you sat there in silence.

……….

The Kingfisher flew for nearly a half hour more, but Nikolai stayed with you below deck until they had to dock the flying ship. When you arrived at the Spinning Wheel, there were lots of Grisha-friendly First Army there to greet everyone. The rescued were all led to different rooms, and as someone approached you to get you settled, Nikolai murmured something to them. They nodded and helped you through the winding hallways. You were given a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, and you wondered what you'd done to earn a private space like this. Surely many people at the Spinning Wheel had to share rooms. 

Once you were alone, you shed your dank, dirt-covered cult clothes and discarded them in the bedroom while you ran a bath for yourself. 

As you sank into the warm water you let your mind settle. It felt odd to feel safe again. After your time below ground, you didn’t know when you’d feel this way again, but you were grateful it was now.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and you heard Nikolai's voice.

“I took your clothes to the washers and brought you clean trousers and a shirt. I'll leave them just outside the door here for when you're finished your bath," he said kindly.

"Thank you," you called out, your voice slightly unsteady. 

The thought of Nikolai on the other side of the door made your heart race. There was something about the moment that felt distinctly like your first trip to West Ravka back when you began to know him more as Nikolai than Sturmhond. The separation by only a door felt as excruciating as it used to feel watching him get into bed beside you without being able to reach for him. Prudence and politeness governed you both so strictly back them, and it had taken reign once again.

You shut your eyes and tried to relax some more in the bath, but your peace had shattered at the thought of Nikolai being so near yet so out of your reach.

You huffed to yourself as you got out of the bath and dried off. You took the clothes Nikolai had left for you and dressed yourself. The layers of soft white linen were slightly thin, but certainly not unappreciated. After months in the same clothes that you were rarely allowed to wash, you were overdue for something clean and fresh. 

Without realizing it, your feet carried you to your bedroom door. It wasn't as though you knew where anything was in this place, but you twisted the knob and stepped into the hallway anyways. You made it two steps before you realized he was there, leaning against the wall beside your door.

"Hi," he said, blushing slightly.

You nodded at him. "Hi."

"Can we talk?" He asked, his eyes earnest.

You nodded again, stepping back into your room and letting him follow.

There were no other chairs or seating in the room, so you sat on the edge of your bed.

Nikolai sat a respectable distance beside you. "I wanted to tell you that--what's this?" 

His eyes were on your shirt's wide collar, where the edge of your shoulder scar peeked out. You hooked a finger into your collar, pulling it to show a bit more of the scar as you angled your back to him too.

"Oh… it's from the nichevo’ya. One just barely nicked my shoulder as we first escaped into the tunnels." You felt a slight sting as he gently grazed his thumb along it. You relished his touch and the reminder that he was alive and with you so much so that you didn't even mind the sting. "Genya says it's permanent."

"I should have been there," he murmured.

You shook your head, turning back to look at him. "No, I'm glad you weren't. You needed to be above ground."

"I should have been with you." His eyes had that earnest look crossed with slight guilt.

"You had to get your parents to safety and rally what was left of the First Army, Nikolai."

"I wanted to be with you." He said as he held your hand, interlocking your fingers. "You're the woman I love, and I thought of you every second of every day I wasn't with you. Saints, I need you more than I need air."

You leaned closer to him, pressing your forehead against his collarbone. It wasn't meant in any romantic way, more just as a silent way to express that you loved him too, that you cared deeply for him. He brought his one arm around your shoulder as the other still held your hand.

"That's why I'm not going through with it," he said, and you could feel the rumble of his words against your head.

"With what?" You whispered.

"The engagement with Alina."

You leaned back slightly to look in his eyes. "What?"

He thumbed along your cheek. "Once the war is won, Alina and I will not be getting married. She and I have spoken already."

"But what about the unification of Ravka and the first and second army?"

"That can happen some other way." He looked deeply into your eyes. "But once we've won this war, I only want one thing."

You sighed and gave him a sad smile. "Niko–"

"Will you marry me?"

Your breath caught in your chest.

There was a time you thought he would ask you this, before you landed in Ravka more permanently, before you got launched into this war against the Darkling. But you knew he still had his ambitions.

"Is it because your brother's dead? Because you're guaranteed to be king now?" You asked.

He sighed and shook his head. It was hard to tell if he'd expected any apprehension from you. "It's because I love you. More than anything else I could ever think of. When I first arrived at the Spinning Wheel, everyone else whined about the cold of the mountains or the fact that they missed tea service and their evening kvas, but all I missed was you." He gently squeezed your hand. "Every day I spent not knowing if you were safe, if you were alive… I could barely sleep, barely eat… You're all I could ever want."

The look in his eyes was reminiscent of his soft yet resolute stare when he’d placed that crown on your head. It felt like a lifetime ago that he whispered honey in your ears and you listened without a shred of apprehension. But right now this wasn’t honey. This was raw. This was real. This was Nikolai in a state of total resolve. And you knew you wouldn’t be made a fool if you accepted him.

"I am all you want?" you whispered in response, your lips curling upwards slightly.

"You are. I want to spend my life with you," he smiled. "Will you marry me?"

“Yes." You nodded, a full smile forming on your lips. “I'll marry you. Of course I will.”

Nikolai broke into a grin. He cupped your cheeks and kept grinning at you, his eyes locked with yours. “Saints, I love you more than anything.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, then dipped down to capture your lips.

It was the first you’d kissed him in months and months. Truly, you hadn’t felt his lips on yours since before you’d crossed the fold. It ignited a forgotten hunger in you, and you kissed him back with a deep longing.

“I missed you,” he murmured as you pulled back for a moment. You noticed tears in his eyes. “I was so stupid, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. I never should have proposed to Alina, or made you feel like I only wanted you in secret. I want you, I’m proud to want you, and I never want my love for you to be a secret. I want you as my queen–my truest companion, as you have always been. I just… I want you.”

You kissed him again, wrapping your arms around him. You leaned so far against him that he rested his back against the headboard, bringing you with him. You missed the closeness with him, the intimacy of being pressed into his body as you kissed. Your fingers threaded into his golden hair as you sighed into his soft lips.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered and you took in a breath.

Your fingers idly traced the skin right above his shirt collar. “I’ll forgive you once you get me a ring and make it official.”

“I gave you a ring years ago, my dear.” His finger went to the chain around your neck, and he pulled it loose from under your shirt, making his old silver ring dangle between you. “One could argue that we’ve been engaged all this time.”

“Then one could also argue that you were most definitely cheating on your fiance when you proposed to someone else,” you smirked at him.

“Ouch. I deserved that,” he chuckled.

He cupped your face again, his palms warm against your skin.

“I’ll get you a new ring. Something regal and fit for the most beautiful queen Ravka will ever know, moi tsaritsa.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss him again. “Good.”

..........

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment on this new part--I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: I will reblog this part with the tags because there's too many of you to tag and tumblr won't let me do it all at once :)

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Hello,have you had any of classic sans centric? I want to find others book like "Sans Tumbles Through the Multiverse Headfirst" but any classic centric is okay! Preferably no romance and no reader

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Dorks in love by Emo_tastical (Not Rated, Incomplete)

9+1 Thing aka, 10 times Classic comforts someone and 1 time everyone comforts him (Nightmare, Dream, Ink, Error, Swap, Killer, Dust, Cross, Horror & Classic)

The Multiverse Solution Center by Scorpion_Factory (Not Rated, Incomplete)

When Classic Sans gets a call from Ink, the last thing he expects is to be teleported to a new multiverse. He sees people he knows well, and some he's never seen before. He wonders why no one seems to know about this place even though it helps everyone This is a completed and work from Wattpad and will be updated to Ao3 every other Wednesday

Papyrus Amazing Spaghetti by orphan_account (Not Rated, Complete)

Sans, who goes as Classic, has had to invite over some friends. His brother did after all find out about them.

it’s raining somewhere else. (hey, here’s an umbrella. i don’t need it right now.) by Cranes_at_Eventide (Mature, Incomplete)

Undertale was the first. Sans Serif may not be a saint with a heart of gold, but there’s an extra room in his shiny new house, and there’s nothing stopping him from lending a well-used umbrella to someone else in need. Especially since it wasn’t raining here anymore. The surface was good for him. Hopefully, it’ll be good for others too. OR Rule number one: Touch Undertale and everyone will be after your sorry, miserable, disgusting ass. Reinfored by a lot of people, and by that I mean everyone. Do your dirty politics wherever, no one will stop you. Involve Undertale, and your ass is done.

in the garden by rhyssands (General Audiences, Complete)

Dropped unceremoniously and without warning into Farmtale, Classic Sans is just trying to keep his mind busy so he doesn't panic. Sticks understands. -- OCT 12: Cornfields

Thanks for the recommendation! The fic being recommended is…

Sans Tumbles Through the Multiverse Headfirst by PapilioVolens (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Sans has finally managed to fix the reset issue. It only required the deletion of a vital character. The barrier is broken, and time finally begins to move again. Recovery is slow, but Sans finds solace in his dreams. By the time he realizes his dreams of other universes are real, he has already grown attached to their residents. And then he's attacked at home and is thrust into the multiverse proper. He finds things very different from how he expected. His old friends don't recognize him, and some of them appear suspiciously older. It doesn't take long before Sans starts to suspect that he may have a larger role in the multiverse than he predicted. I wanted more Classic adventures through the multiverse, so here's my contribution. And cause I'm me, I can't help but try to make a saga out of it. Features Classic being Classic, strange multiversal mechanics, and a sleep-deprived author who 100% knows what they are doing

[imawreck]

Ally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Original Character

Summary: Max follows Steve to meet with the other Avengers despite her concerns about a certain Red Witch.

Author's Note: This Chapter is mostly made of my Boyfriends genius ideas, so thank him for helping me actually keep my word and get a chapter out on the last day of this month.

Warnings: Cursing and MCU cannon violence, mentions of panic attacks.

Word Count: 2,600

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Max-

Steve was being very un-Steve-like.

At least in comparison to the memories I have from time at the tower. What I remembered of him was a stark contrast to the oddly understanding and awfully affectionate man seated beside me.

After a bit more talking in Carlos’s living room to make sure I was up to date in the events of the last four years I’d been gone, Steve had said that we needed to leave and get the others as soon as possible.

Now, we sat next to each other on a train headed from London to Scotland where we’d find Vision and a very unhappy— probably homicidal—Wanda. We’d flown from Madripoor to London twelve hours ago, leaving both of us sleep deprived and hungry. 

Snacks didn’t exactly satisfy the super-soldier metabolism. 

Still, Steve had managed to keep his good mood through the ride so far. He would check in on me occasionally, his eyes glancing up from a newspaper he read to ask if I needed anything. I always said no.

Twenty minutes after his last check in, he’d put down the paper. “What have you been up to all these years?”

The question startled me a bit. 

“I… Not a lot more than what I did back then, really.” I shrugged. “I took care of some things in the first couple of years and then I took up jobs as a Merc. That’s really it.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, “That's a little vague. Come on, you left straight out of a coma the last time I saw you. I was— what I saw—.”

I snapped my head towards him, a lick of horror and shame stirring in me. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

His mouth closed, but he turned himself in his seat to face me. “Max,” his head tilted and there was a softness about his face I felt unsure of. “I think that a little explanation is deserved.”

I twisted my lips at him, knowing he was probably right. I didn’t have to like it, though. “What do you want me to say? I woke up from a coma. I didn’t know I was even asleep, actually. I thought I was still stuck in that cell that whole time, and when you said it was two weeks—.” 

My heart was thundering in my ears, and a skittering jolt passed through my body as my adrenaline kicked in. I tried to breathe, tried to suck in air, but it was like I was being choked by some invisible enemy.

Steve’s steady hand snagged my arm and squeezed. “Hey, woah there. Are you alright?”

His blue eyes were in my face a moment later. They weren’t the same blue as Bucky’s, but they were close enough to pull the memory of a certain silver-armed soldier to the forefront of my mind. 

The guilt that flooded me at the thought of him fueled the oncoming attack I knew was on the horizon. My eyes screwed shut as I fought to take in a shuttering few breaths. Steve still remained kneeled in front of me. His large frame was thankfully angled enough to keep my breakdown hidden from the eyes of the other passengers. 

I felt his other hand come up to rest on my other arm, sending quick squeezes every so often as he talked quietly to me. “Max, I need you to talk to me. Tell me what you need me to do.”

It was strange to hear him talk so gently to me, but having him there soothed me just the slightest bit. Kept me anchored enough so that I could pull in a breath or two into my aching lungs. 

“Just give me a minute,” I breathed, subconsciously reaching for his arm to steady myself. 

Panic attacks were part of the ‘New Me.’ Not the best part, but it came with the package. After realizing how easily it was for me to lose chunks of time due to the nature of my new power, and how real everything seemed when I was trapped in it, I began to wonder if I would ever escape them at all. If the next time I saw the familiar four walls of my shabby apartment would be reality, or just another trick of my own mind.

It really screwed with my head.

Once I’d gotten my breathing even again, and my head cleared a bit, I shot Steve the best smile I could at the moment. “Sorry. I, uh… I have trouble knowing what’s real and what’s made up in here sometimes.” I tapped my head, “It happens less now than it did in the beginning but… sometimes my mind is something I can’t control. Not anymore.”

I hated the look of pity that crawled over his features. It made my insides writhe with shame and bitterness, and I pushed his hands from my arms. “You should get back in your seat. I can hear the engineer talking over the radio. We’re pulling into the station soon.”

Steve nodded slowly, looking like he wanted to say something but decided against it. He didn’t take his eyes off me for the rest of the ride.

-----

Steve-

We’d arrived at night. The streets were dark, and most of the people had vacated the streets. It would be easier to stay low and make finding Wanda and Vision less complicated.

Max followed closely behind me. Her steps were silent on the cobblestone streets, and I’d catch her eyes darting around the darkness as we went. 

She hadn’t spoken for the rest of the train ride here, but the bit she’d shared shed light on how she’d been living for the last four years. I wondered how many nights that first year she’d spent trying to figure out if she was really awake or not and how many years after she’d suffered. 

I wondered how often her mind played tricks on her even now.

Rounding the corner, I opened a storage room door and ushered her in. Max slipped around me and into the room, snagging the duffle in my hands on her way in. It carried a Kevlar vest, some combat boots and a few pairs of clothes she’d insisted on getting from the place she’d been staying before we made it here. 

I watched as she sifted through the bag and pulled out her belongings. I grabbed my suit when she was finished and retreated around a crowded case of cleaning chemicals and brooms to ensure I couldn’t see her.

There was a distinct clicking that echoed throughout the small space. It broke the silence in odd intervals, and I tried to figure out if it was a camera or an electrical issue somewhere in the vicinity. “Do you hear that?”

There was a shift, more clicking, and a sigh. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

I paused, confused as I finished suiting up. “It could be a camera. Not sure why they’d have it in here, but—.”

“It’s not a camera. There’s nothing to worry about.” Max rounded the corner as she said it, her fingers clicking the strap of knives into place across her chest. “Trust me.”

She looked like her old self, though the red suit was long gone. Instead, she’d suited herself in black leather and Kevlar. The design on her suit was strange, like it was Frankenstein stitched back together somehow. The hems were oddly placed, and the gadgets she carried were clearly either homemade or bought from a rather sketchy place. 

The strangest part about it though, was the diamond pattern of holes trailing down her spine. Metal glinted from under the suit, the silver catching in the dim lights as she turned to inspect the rest of her gear. 

I shoved my set of clothes into the bag and held my hand out for hers, shoving them in as well and zipping it shut. The atmosphere of the room was tense, like I’d said something wrong, but Max was quick to turn around and pin me with her blank eyes.

“So, what exactly is the plan?” Her fingers came up to undo her braid, tugging out the knots.

I shook my head and pulled out a device from the bag. “I have a tracking device on them. Should take us straight to their location.”

“Peachy, makes things much simpler. I’m still very concerned about our witchy friend.” 

I winced, “Yeah, you might have to wait outside while I handle that first.”

“Works for me.” Max swiftly tied her hair up in a braided knot near the base of her head, her features schooled into a face of indifference. “”Though I think she’ll be handling you.”

I shook my head, a ripple of anger slipping into my gut before I let it go. “It’ll be fine, let’s just get a move on. They’re downtown.”

She didn’t say much else as we made our way back out onto the quiet streets. I followed the beacon, leading us towards the pair of Avengers, while Max scanned the streets for any particular signs of trouble. 

And it wasn’t long before trouble showed face.

Max gripped the collar of my uniform and yanked me back with enough force to have me stumbling to catch myself. “What–”

“Shh!” She smacked a hand over my mouth, her ears trained on something even I couldn’t pick up on. Her eyes stared into mine, devoid of light and unnervingly still, “I hear fighting.”

I swallowed, tugging her hand back. “How far?”

“Couple streets,” She mumbled, her eyes snapping east, “that way.”

I take off in a jog, and Max leaps onto the nearest fire escape and disappears over the side of the building heading towards the noise. A few roads later, and I begin hearing the distinct clash of weaponry and pained voices calling to each other.

I took a breath, rounded the corner, and prepared for the worst.

-----

Max- 

Whatever those things were in the street, they were ugly as hell.

They were tall, dull skinned, and obviously not from around here. I crouched on the rooftop to stay out of sight, heeding Steve’s warning that I might need to sit this little reunion out. Instead, I watched the fight closely, taking in their movements and strange fluidity despite their larger stature. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, even with Steve rounding the corner below. 

I readied to intervene, but to my surprise, the familiar whir of a jet pack echoed overhead, and a blonde dropped into the fight with a killer right hook.

The worry I felt growing eased just slightly, but was quickly replaced by a simmering anger. 

Romanoff.

I tossed my legs over the rooftop and settled in, observing the fight much like one would a basketball game… mildly disinterested. 

The fight was rather quick after that, and I remained an onlooker as they watched the aliens descend into their little ship afterwards. A ship I hadn’t even heard approach, which unsettled me some.

The group of ex-Avengers huddled together, and Steve glanced up at me briefly before clearing his throat. “It’s good to see you all.”

Natasha was next, “You missed the last check in.” Her tone was biting.

Steve sighed, “I was following a lead for an asset and it couldn’t wait.”

“What asset, exactly?” She asked, that bite growing more offensive as the seconds ticked on.

“That would be me,” I cut in, swinging my feet carelessly from the rooftop. “Apparently I’m needed for something very, very big coming our way.”

Immediately, Wanda’s head snapped up. Her eyes glowed that stark red and bitterness leaked into her features. “You!”

-----

Wanda-

The sight of her filled me with burning hatred. Max was an evil that deserved to be eradicated. Her entire life was a plight, a disease. 

I didn’t feel the tiniest bit of remorse when I launched an iron rod at her head. I knew it wouldn’t connect, but it would cause her pain even if she blocked it and that brought me an inkling of peace knowing she’d feel even an ounce of what I had been feeling since Pietro’s death.

So much pain. It ate away at me.

I could hear the others shouting below, all trying to talk me down, to reason with me. They were the ones that couldn’t see reason. They were the ones who couldn’t see the evil right in front of them. It didn’t matter if she was brainwashed, controlled like a puppet, or had her mind to herself…Everything she did caused death. Everyone that came close to her suffered.

The Avengers were supposed to eliminate things that tormented this planet, and she was top of the list.

“You murdered my brother!” My voice shook with the volume of my scream, “You made his death slow and painful. You made him suffer!”

I tore bricks from the platform, benches from the ground, even signs from their posts to launch at her. Anything I could use. I would bury her in rubble, crush her with the force of it, and be done.

I watched as she hunkered down and took every piece of debris that rained down on her as I shouted and screamed over the sounds of tearing metal and the shouts of my teammates below. “Do you even remember it? Do you remember cutting the back of his legs to the bone? Stabbing him in the stomach so he’d die slowly?” 

My eyes stung as I grit my teeth, “You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Enjoyed it.”

Through the gap between her arms, she glared at me. Those silvery blue eyes glinting as her guard dropped away, the shrapnel flying in her direction disintegrating in mid air as the world around me warped before settling exactly as it had looked before I’d torn it apart.

Like… 

My eyes widened as the cold, sharp bite of a blade tilted my chin up. I found her face, cold and furious as she stared at me over the knife.

“I did not enjoy murdering your brother.” Max said calmly, “And I am truly sorry for what I have done to hurt you.” Her knife pressed harder against my skin, “But if you try and pull that again, I’ll put you down. I’m here to help because Rogers asked me to. I’ll do what I’m here for, and I’ll disappear when the job is done.”

The others, Steve, Sam, Vision, and Natasha all stood a few feet away with grim expressions. I was still reeling from what had happened. How it had happened.

But then I remembered that cobalt blue sludge that had attacked me all those years ago when I’d fought her. The way it had crawled across the floor towards me like a living thing, reaching and grabbing.

She’d used it on me again and I hadn’t even sensed it coming.

Max turned towards the others, that cold indifference making her expression unreadable. “If we’re done with the hugs and ‘how-are-you’s, I’d like to get a move on. I still need to be briefed on this whole thing.”

“Right,” Steve answered, his eyes flicking over me and back to her, “We need to board the Jet. Get back to the Tower.”

Sam frowned, “You serious? Stark Tower? With Stark?”

Steve gave him a look, “It’s time.”

There was a silence that settled over the group. I begrudgingly refrained from trying to kill Max. At least until whatever it was that was going on got handled. After that…

After that, I’d find a way to drag her to hell myself.

Tags<3

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