#im sorry this ended up so long I just. i like to explain my thought process since I lack comic making skills lol

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

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

[clickityweasel]

made and destroyed a friendship at work today

#significant time passes between each row of panels btw. this took place over 40 minutes #his dad was getting more and more upset that he was dragging me around instead #sorry bud im his dad now #not pictured: me trying to put the shapes on my head and him truly believing i didn't understand his instructions #and so patiently explaining again that i need to *hand* them to him #''so.... not on my head? just in your hands?'' #''YES'' [holds out lil baby hands] #''ohh okay i get it now'' [puts it on my head] #''NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!'' #this was a chill afternoon activity #after all of the fire related nonsense in the morning #my candle on a stick kept going out on the way to the hydrogen so i ended up standing waaaaaaay too close #when it detonated lol #THEN when i went to light the first rocket i discover somebody bought small matches! #short matches! like an inch long i swear. teeny tiny matches #and i had already fumbled several things i didn't have time to go get other matches mid show so i was lik #''everyone think fire resistant thoughts for me real quick!!'' and just ran my hands over the gas flame bc yknow #[aragorn voice] for the bit #AND THEN MY FIRE PISTON WOULDN'T IGNITE #i was making the little kid's face from this comic at that point i swear #coworker snuck in to watch the show and watched my soul leave my body instead #blease. a smidge of energy. god knows i put enough into these damn shows lol

[macroglossus]

being evaluated for adhd by having one of those full psych evals that last like two hours. scared frightened etc.... last time i took it i lied extensively bc i was 13 and thought they might tell my mommy if i said i had suicidal thoughts. and i still have a habit of lying to therapists bc i'm embarrassed......... AGH idk. what if i take it and they tell me that the reason im Like This is bc im genuinely just weird and shitty and not bc im mentally ill at all. SCARED

#which is dumb bc i have been formally diagnosed with multiple mental illnesses i dont think they can just take it back right????? #this is so stupid and cliche but what if i have been faking it........ all along........ Argh. #when i was in res i was put on adderall (bc the house psych just kind of experimented w meds LMFAO) and i had to go off them after like #two weeks bc it was affecting my appetite in a way i couldnt afford at the time lmao. but i do genuinely feel like it helped during that #time.... which is why i want to go on it again!!!! but im scared theyll just be like nah and i wont be able to take any of my meds anymore #is that crazy. am i being crazy rn. idk i truly do think most of my experiences w school and like. life could be explained by adhd and #when i was a kid they thought i had it but the two meds they tried didnt work for me so they just. kind of gave up #and i was really extremely unable to do school and graduated hs w an insanely low gpa and then dropped out of community college. LMAO. not #that people w adhd cant be good in school i just couldnt make myself do homework and couldnt listen in class bc i was too busy focusing on #listening. if that makes sense #IDK. idk. i know it's become like. a trend to have adhd is the issue and everything is being attributed to having it so im worried that ive #like. accidentally fallen in w that? even though ive thought i had it for forever and everyone has been like girl do you have this. IDK!!!! #idk. idkkkk im just like. genuinely scared. it's not the end of the world if im not diagnosed obviously but that means that #im just like this for no reason at all. and there's no way of helping it bc it's just the way i am. and i actually am just shitty n lazy. #epic. which incidentally is the proper name for how fucking long these tags are my bad. if you read this far sorry for being insane 👍

[m-kyunie]

Left waiting, left wanting; why can't you see me

just imagine Sins Fate or Prayer [Banana Fish] playing & the text boxes flickering. Alma's symbolism goes so hard.

I'm on my hands & knees begging you to read the Alma Arc instead.

#dgm #d.gray-man #alma karma #eyestrain #i wanted to try smtg completely different bc its how I see Alma n I wanted to interpret that thru other uh. effects I guess! #n share some of the songs i think suit Alma's scorn n fire #this was inspired by Dress [BUCK-TICK] thats Buns introduced me to god the lyrics n visuals! watch the MV #just the anger that Alma possess is very female but like. queer gendered thirst way idk how to explain myself I hope u guys can understand #like Alma is violence born from female energy but his grace/charm is masculine. does that make any sense at all....... #anger takes many forms right but that brand of anger in the manga is distinctly feminine. 'Hell Hath no fury like a woman scorned' #Mitski & Atushi get it. they understand me. #anyway the songs i cut from vaguely in order from top down left right: #I Hate You [SZA]. Dress [BUCK-TICK]. Less Than Zero [The Weeknd]. #Me & My Husband [Mitski] First Love/Late Spring[Mitski] #actually can i recommend another MV that fits what I'm talking about: No Party For Cao Dong - Wayfarer #im sorry this ended up so long I just. i like to explain my thought process since I lack comic making skills lol

[vazaez]

that’s not very cis of you

BYE🛌

It's complicated alright 😭💀

#a lil personal story about this now that the topic came up: #some time ago i started questioning my gender identity but i didnt like the spanish they/them pronouns on myself #they just didnt sit right lol #so i tried using gender neutral language (ig yall know spanish is one of the many languages that is VERY gendered #even fcking objects have their own 'gender' lmao) so yea if it pas possible i phrased what i said abt myself in a pronounless way #but when it was not possible to do that id use male pronouns to try how i felt with them. the thing is that every fucking time i did that #some dude in a gc i was in said 'dO u hAvE a D¡cK????' and it made me really uncomfy as if i needed it to be able to use those pronouns 🧍 #LITERALLY EVERY TIME so eventually i gave up because i thought what's the point of finding my identity if it wont be respected anyways? #so yea im resigned to be seen as the same I was born with the same i've always been and the same everyone knows me #dont get me wrong i dont always hate being a girl but sometimes it makes me curious how would it be if i wasnt #and i dont mind what pronouns ppl use with me most of the time as long as it's not with a bad intention #I've wondered if maybe i'm a she/they? idk i just gave up thinking about it #at least for now. i have my whole ass life to find out what or who i am so i don't feel there's a need to rush tbh #woah this rant got rlly long sorry lol idk if anyone will read this far 🏃 #btw it's not only about that guy but he made me constantly remember that most people at least here in latam are very closed minded #just like him so if i ended up finding an identity i was happy with it wouldnt be respected by most people irl anyways #i'm not in that gc anymore tho #i hope i was able to like explain well what i mean? i don't wanna seem like i gave up that easily just because some dude was being a jerk #it's just that i'm kind of an overthinker

[pupcuck]

PUPPY LOVE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x f!reader

tags. puppy hybrids, knotting, chris is the owner but he’s like not fucking, virginity loss, vendetta leon, age gap, lots of spit

notes. i write gn reader usually but this is super sickeningly self indulgent so it’s fem reader ughdhfh im so sorry this is crossposted on my ao3 :3 NOT BETA READ If u see a typo no you didn’t!!! I am so humiliated by this fic um this only makes sense with vendetta Leon so keep him in mind

“C’mon, buddy, ain’t it a cutie?” You’re being held up, some scary man's hands under your armpits, legs dangling in the air as he shows you off to an older dog.

It. How rude. You’re a lady for god's sake. An ill-tempered little lady in fact. This is growing tedious, so you let out a noise of warning, and clamp down on his forearm with your canines. They’re just in. Fresh and white. Had taken a while, you were a bit of a late bloomer, but they're here now, and that’s all that matters.

“Shit,” the man clicks his tongue, “you got some spunk, huh, pup?” He places you down on the ground, and you sink to your knees with a soft huff. “What’d you think, Leon?”

So that’s his name. The older dog, Leon. He looks worn out and mean. Brows furrowed, wrinkled forehead, dark hair that obscures most of his face. What a creep. You’ve been set up, the old lady at the pet shop told you this was going to be fun! She said you were gonna meet someone handsome, a stud who’d give you puppies. This dog looks like he doesn’t even go into rut anymore. His glory days are so over. Ten years past his prime. You stick your nose in the air and refuse to acknowledge him. He does the same.

“Leon, come on, buddy,” the man, well, you guess he’s your owner now, tries to coax him over, “don't be like this.”

Leon simply rolls onto his side, his ears flopping over so the pink underside is seen. Rude. You’re so pretty any normal mutt would be begging for it. But, you guess he’s just faulty. ‘Cause he’s an old man. Duh. This is so unfair, a pampered pooch like you deserves so much better. A two bedroom apartment with a single bathroom, and an open-plan kitchen is just not classy.

“Fuck, Leon, you always gotta be so damn difficult.” Your owner crouches down, fastens a collar around your neck. It’s pink so that's good at least. You’re a stupid pup, can’t quite make out what’s engraved on the doggy bone charm, but you assume it would be your name. “There you go, girl, you like it?”

You tilt your head to the side, but ultimately nod your head with a forced smile. Getting on your owner’s good side would be ideal. Maybe he’d spoil you a little extra. He’s awfully handsome when you take a moment to really look at him. Why couldn’t he have been the stud?

“That’s a good girl,” he presses a soft kiss to your head, “why don’t you go make yourself comfortable, pup?” He gives you a little smack on the bottom, makes you jump. Gosh. His hands are so big. He’s so big. You felt the way he flexed under your teeth earlier. So much meat to him.

With another huff, you walk around, sniff the couch cushions, press a dainty paw to the wall, admire all the framed photos. They’ve been together for a long time it seems. Your owner and Leon. He used to be perfectly pretty. Sunflower blonde, dopey smile on his slightly rounded face, puppy fat softening all his rough edges. Cute. You wish he still looked like that. His tail looks like more of a blur in the photos, towards the end he starts to mellow out, turning into what you’ve seen of him today. Moody.

“Leon was a military dog,” your owner explains. You don’t know what that means, but you think it’s important. Considering all the strange clothes with leather straps and that ugly green print, there’s even a gun in your owner’s hands. “He’s retired now though. I thought you’d cheer him up a little.”

You blink at your owner, pressing your nose into his hand when he offers it, pink tongue licking at his salty fingers. Yeah, you like him. He’s firm and sweet. Smiles at you in a way that’s kind. Leon is the only problem. Whatever. He’ll kick the bucket soon enough, or maybe your owner will get tired of him. After all, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you’ve got plenty up your sleeve to show off. Rolling over, batting your lashes, smiling, looking pretty. You’ve got it handled.

“You know how to speak, pup?” Owner cups your cheeks, “my name is Chris,” he says it slowly, waits till you repeat it back to him.

“Chris…” you’re hesitant to speak, unsure of if you did it right. He pats your head, offers you a paw-shaped treat, that must mean you did well.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Gosh. You like him lots ‘n lots. This place ain’t so bad after all.

“She’s settling in well,” Chris is on the phone with somebody, “no, course not, god, she’s a star.” He’s talking ‘bout you, and you like it. You’re the apple of his eye these days.

He scratches behind your ears as you sit beside him, chewing on a squeaky toy you gnawed at so bad it popped. Leon is laying on the floor as usual, sleeping soundly on a warm spot. You'd given him a shifty kick earlier, but he just grunted through a heavy snore.

It gets lonely when Chris leaves for the day, you often find yourself nesting in his bed, sniffing his pillow, chewing on one of his shirts for comfort. You get scolded for all the pin-sized holes left by your needle-sharp teeth, but you continue to do it. Leon is mean. He bares his teeth when you try to play, kicks you away when you try to curl into him at night, all sorts of things. He’s no fun, it’s why you cling to Chris’ leg, whine and scratch at the door, kick your legs and throw back your head to wail.

The door clicks shut after a short tussle between your teeth and the rough fabric of Chris’ jeans. You sniffle and curl up against the front door. This is so cruel of him. Why can’t he just stay and play all day? You have so many games planned that Leon never wants to partake in. Tug of war, fetch, tummy rubs, kisses, cuddles. It’ll be so much fun! And yet there’s nobody to do it with.

You nose at his cheek as he sleeps in his usual spot. Just by the window, bathed in the warmth of the yolky sunlight, chest rising and falling in tandem with his breaths. His nose scrunches ever so often, his tail mostly still, other than the little flick to the side it makes when you approach him carefully. He smells good. That’s the one thing you like about Leon. His scent. It’s thick and rich and has your gut bubbling with an unfamiliar feeling. However, you welcome it, it feels good to you. Makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“Leon,” your slurring speech makes his brows furrow, his lips downturned, “play with me.”

A low sound rumbles deep in his chest when you continue to prod at him, is he seriously growling at you? This dog has no manners whatsoever. Seriously, who raised him? It can’t have been Chris. “Leon,” you drag it out this time, whining as you clamber on top of him.

Sniffing his neck, you lick at his Adam’s apple, watch as it bobs when he swallows. He opens his eyes, glares at you through light lashes, swats at your face.

“Play with me, Leon,” your bottom lip juts out, giving him those eyes that no one is able to say no to. None of the pet shop workers could, and Chris certainly can’t, so Leon should surely fall for it.

Leon’s eye twitches, his lip curls upwards, flashing those big teeth of his. It’s a warning that you take with a grain of salt. “Leon, ‘m wanna play,” you say again, wriggling on top of him, your hands planted on that firm chest of his.

You’re a pest. A mutt at best. A bother, a hindrance, all of the above. Leon doesn’t know many other words. He has no clue on whose idea this was, couldn’t have been Chris on his own, must’ve been his sister. Or the lady with the pixie cut, one who brings him treats whenever she visits. ‘Cause Chris knows him well enough. Knows that Leon likes to be alone lately. That a new puppy is just an extra mouth to feed for Chris. He doesn’t need company, doesn’t appreciate a hyperactive pup kneeing him in the gut every hour in an attempt to play some kiddy games.

Total cutie. He’ll give you that. Soft and sweet like all puppies are. Floppy ears, fluffy tail, cute teeth that don’t do much damage. Droopy tits, layer of pudge that puppies tend to have, full hips, and a pert ass.

Now, Leon would never hurt you on purpose. It’s why he sticks to threats he never follows through with. Snarling, baring his teeth, the regular shit. Would get any normal pup scampering away from him, but you’re spoiled rotten. You get what you want at the drop of a hat. He blames that on Chris. Old age has made him sappy. Old age has only made Leon feel like shit. His bones ache on the daily, can’t even get up to bark at the mailman anymore, his walks have been cut down to half an hour once a day, finds it harder to chew on those dental bones Chris tosses him. Stressful times. And the cherry on top of his shit sandwich is you. The little nuisance who insists on bothering him no matter what.

“Leon,” you start again, talking in that high-pitched tone, an excessive amount of spit garbling your speech, “play!”

Christ, you don’t know when to give up. He gives you a light shove, hopes it’s enough to deter you, of course that's just wishful thinking. You bounce back fast. Pressing your forehead to his, you muster up your nastiest glare. Cute. You’re cute when you do that. “Play with me.” Each word is punctuated by your fists smacking down on his chest.

You’re hovering over him, bare bottom on his clothed lap, tits pressed flush to his chest. Every piece of clothing Chris tried to put on you was deemed itchy. Snipping off the labels never helped, you seem to only like cashmere, expensive taste. So he gave up. Lets you wander around in your birthday suit.

“I don’t want to play,” Leon gets out through gritted teeth, expression contorting into one of restraint when you rock your hips back and forth absentmindedly. You’re being playful. Trying to get him up, trying to get any sort of reaction from him. But he can feel you. Leon’s been out of business for a long time. He was so damn sure his dick had malfunctioned a couple years back. No seed left to spare. This old dog was dried out.

This is all it took to get him fixed up? Puppy cunt? God. What a sicko. He sits up, hands on your hips to still you. Your brow quirks in confusion, blinking at him dumbly. Poor puppy. Don’t even know how wet you are. How your heady scent is coating the walls, making it unbearable for Leon to even breathe. He’s going fuckin’ crazy.

Leon pins you down, hair hanging in your face as he hovers over you. “Playing?” You ask him, face lighting up at the prospect of getting him to join in on your games.

Oh, he’ll teach you a new game, alright. It’s cute how you act all haughty, get Chris running around like a headless chicken ‘cause you’ve got so many demands, when really you’re just a stupid pup. Can’t even take care of yourself. Walkin’ around with this drippy pussy, an itch so deep in your core you can’t scratch it. Leon can’t lie, he’s cracked open an eye to see you trying your best to get rid of it. The ache in your lower belly. Rubbing yourself all over that pink teddy Chris brought back after a trip. Pressing its wet snout deep into your cunt to get rid of that strange tingle, but to no avail. Leon found it a little funny. He remembers being that way.

The sound you let out when he spreads your fat pussy is adorable. A whine that borders on a yelp. You’re frightened and confused for a moment, until his fingertips find your swollen clit, pushing back the hood, swiping over it again and again. Then you melt into a puddle of goop. That’s right. Must feel so damn good. You’ve got a chubby cunt, pillowy lips that hide your bud from his view, fluffy fur all over your tummy and crotch that’ll shed in a few months time and grow back in a darker shade. Cute little thing. He’s gonna eat you up.

He bullies his way between your thighs. Your scent is so much thicker now. Clinging to his skin in a way he’ll be unable to wash off. The first swipe of his tongue through your folds has your hips bucking up, pelvis mashing into his nose a little painfully. Leon makes sure to hold you down. You’re sugary sweet in his mouth, like he’s bitten into a ripe fruit. Your pussy sure is the sweetest peach he’s ever seen.

“Leon…” you grab at his ears, tug on them to combat the immense pleasure that tears through you. Ouch. He’s gotta get Chris to trim those claws of yours down.

His hand is splayed across your tummy, holding you down as he buries his face in your cunt. Leon nips at your inner thighs then goes back to making those obnoxious noises that any lady with dignity would be mortified by. But you’re a stupid puppy that can’t tell left from right. Eyes rolling back into your skull as he slurps away, lips smacking noisily, his tongue fucking in and out of that tight hole.

Your toes curl in your fluffy socks, hips arching up despite his hold on them, pussy gushing like a burst pipe all over him. “There you go, atta girl,” Leon hums, flicking your clit one last time for good measure. He smiles at the sound you let out, a pitchy yap of irritation.

More where that came from. You got him all worked up. That hasn’t happened in years. His cock is dripping, a wet patch forms in the front of his sweats that he’s quick to lower. Your mouth waters at the sight, smiling at him all dopey. It’s instinct, it seems, for you to be a greedy, cock-hungry little pup. Leon’s all for enthusiasm, so he’ll give it to you, reward the spoiled little pup.

He’s sheathed inside of you in no time. You’re made for this sorta thing. Made to be a breeding bitch if he wants to get crude about it. So he doesn’t worry too much ‘bout how you’re adjusting. Just moves his hips forward sharply, fat tip jabbing at your cervix, and watching as you tremble.

“Mmm, Leon,” your nails scratch down his chest, ears flattening against your head as you gaze up at him with starry eyes. This all it takes to calm you down? Some dick? Leon’s willing to give it whenever you get rowdy. Spit pools in your mouth, dribbles down your chin, and he’s quick to lick it up. You don’t know how to kiss him. But you try. It’s clumsy and open-mouthed, your tiny hands cupping his stubbly cheeks as you just kinda slobber all over the lower half of his face. That’s alright. Leon got the hang of it after about five years. He can teach you.

You’re sucking his dick in, pussy tight around him like a vice, his balls slap against your ass. It’s so good. Fuck. He should’ve done this sooner. Should’ve jumped you the moment Chris brought you home. What an idiot. He was basically gifting Leon a living fuckdoll and he missed out on it for a good month or so. You’re so easy, kicking your legs, and digging your nails into his biceps as you cream on his fat cock, leaving a ring of milky white around the base.

He’s old now, can’t help the way his breath is a little ragged as he nears his high, can’t last as long as he used to. Don’t matter anyway. ‘Cause you’re satisfied. He fills you up like a creampuff. There’s a little surprise on your face when his knot begins to swell, stretching your cute hole till it’s gaping.

“Fun.” You tell him with a sleepy smile. Leon’s tongue smooths over your fluffy ears, he remembers his fur being this soft. They’re wet with perspiration, but he likes the taste of you. He grooms you to his heart's content. It’s been a while since he’s done any of that. Makes him feel rather happy actually. Like a weight has lifted from his chest. You’re falling asleep so he manages to roll over, careful not to move too fast and tear you in half while he’s knotted. He has you on top of him, face in his neck as you snore lightly. The warmth is putting him to sleep too.

Leon only stirs when he hears the jingle of keys and a few voices from down the hall. You’re still knocked out and drooling. The front door opens, Chris is talking to someone he tries to pick up on through smell.

“Jesus, buddy, what’d you do to her?” Chris kneels down beside them, pats Leon’s head then yours.

“They do get along well, Chris,” it’s Rebecca, she’s smiling down at Leon, he can sniff out those expensive treats in the pocket of her winter coat. “Guess it’s just when you’re around.”

“No, no, I swear,” he holds his hands up in defence, “Leon’s always being a fuckin’ bastard when it comes to her.”

“You’re just being mean to him,” Rebecca says, cooing as she pinches Leon’s cheek, “hey, there, good boy.”

“Yeah,” Chris lets out an exasperated laugh, “sure, whatever, glad you like your new pal, buddy.”

#resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #my fics

[demonpiratehuntress]

recently read your baby!name x op characters and i was thinking what abt name x baby!op characters-

they somehow turned into babies for 24 hrs (like in your fic)

just randomly thought of this while scrolling thru baby op characters on pinterest lmao

anyways have a great day/ night~~

love this idea!! I just wanted to do baby (name) first since i've seen a few baby OP characters but im more than happy to do it!

i finally got my laptop back, but im actually so upset it took so long to be fixed, and that i couldn't get all your requests out sooner! im so sorry this took ages, and to everyone else who requested before i closed requests - yours will be out soon enough! once again, so so sorry everyone :(

taglist - @kabloswrld

baby OP Men! (Straw Hats, Law, Ace, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader

summary - the OP men get turned into babies for 24 hours and naturally, you're the babysitter.

warnings - none except that i haven't watched far enough to know what Law and Ace were like as kids so them and Kaku will just be wild guesses. and there is no longer yellow font so i will just be making Law's colour blue.

ZORO

Waking up to the sounds of things breaking and crashing against other things wasn't uncommon on the Sunny. It has been something you'd all become accustomed to on the Merry, which just carried over to the Sunny. More often than not, the source was Zoro and Sanji, so you just rolled over and went back to bed.

Until the cry of an infant woke you right back up.

You looked down at yourself, sighing in relief when you realised it wasn't you this time. However, if not you then who?

You got your answer when you walked into the kitchen and spotted a green-haired baby fussing and throwing pots at a scowling blonde cook.

"Devil child!" Sanji yelled, earning him another pot to the face.

You laughed at the sight, and both of them turned to look at you. Sanji breathed a sigh of relief, while baby Zoro crawled across the countertop to get to you.

"What happened to him?" You asked the cook as you lifted the moody infant up into your arms, where he relaxed and cooed happily.

"That idiot got too cocky and tried to take on a devil fruit user without knowing what the devil fruit actually was," Sanji explained, throwing another hateful glare at the baby swordsman in your arms. "Now he's stuck like this for a whole day."

You volunteered to care for him, something that no one else seemed willing or able to do. You supposed it was fitting, since Zoro threw a tantrum every time he was with someone who wasn't you. It was funny really, how he would scream and throw things when you set him down or handed him to someone else and then immediately fall silent when you picked him up again. Zoro was not a clingy adult, but he was certainly a very clingy baby.

But you didn't mind.

He was calmest when you sat and watched the ocean with him perched on your lap, bouncing a little on your thighs as he tried to see over the railing. You laughed and lifted him up, setting the green-haired infant on your shoulders.

"That better, baby?"

He cooed and clapped his tiny hands, indicating he was much more satisfied now. Then his fingers found your hair, and be busied himself pulling and playing with it as you chuckled and let him be. His attention span was short, but even shorter now that he was barely a year old.

"Not too hard now," you reminded him, laughing when he just pulled harder. "Even as a baby you're a bully." That only earned you a whine and a harder tug on your strands, but you only laughed more because it didn't really hurt.

He ended up falling asleep on your chest that night, small hand fisting your shirt. You were humming and singing softly to get him to sleep, so it was a bit of a relief when you saw his eyes closed.

In the morning, he hovered over you with a teasing smirk on his face.

"So I'm a bully huh?"

ACE

After your encounter with the de-aging devil fruit user, you would think Ace would have been more inclined to avoiding him. But no, your boyfriend was super confident that he could take this guy on and not get hit with the de-aging beam, which is why you were now back on the Moby Dick with a very pouty infant Ace on your lap. He only wore a diaper, and had thrown a tantrum when you tried to put something else on. The crew was laughing and teasing him, which only made him poutier.

And also shoot little balls of fire at their shoes. He looked at you innocently, but you knew he did it on purpose.

Ace is just as naughty as you would think he'd be as a baby. If you lose sight of him for one second, he's gone and you're running around panicking and trying to find this troublemaker, which is much harder now that he's so small. You end up finding him under a table or crawling towards any set of stairs on the ship. And he'll giggle and smile innocently, instantly earning your forgiveness.

"You're a handful, you know that?" You huff as you pick him up right before he tumbles down some steps. "Stop trying to hurt yourself!"

Ace just cooed and reached for your face, patting your cheek affectionately before nuzzling his face against it. He becomes so clingy when you try to do work while babysitting him, always pulling your hair or squeezing your nose hard when you paid more attention to a chore than him.

"Ace! I'm trying to work, I'll play with you just now."

Ace babbles nonsense and starts to cry, making you sigh as you turn your attention back to him. Then he immediately stops crying and is happily giving you sloppy kisses all over your face, his mood changing in that split second.

You don't get any work done.

Ace also has a tendency to disappear when you set him down for one second, only to reappear by a screaming crewmate who's trying to put out a fire on their pants. The little 2nd division commander would howl with laughter and fall onto his back, before pouting when he realises he can't get up and then cries for you. Little Ace is a menace.

"You need to go sleep!" You sighed in exasperation as you rocked Ace back and forth gently, later that evening in your room. "Please?"

Ace just giggled and sucked in his tiny fingers, a very blatant 'no'. You sighed and sat on the bed, setting him on your lap. Trying to bounce him didn't work because he just got excited and more energetic. Then you finally remembered the one time he never fails to sleep, and you were almost mad at him for making you so tired and worn out that you'd forgotten.

You got him the softest food you can find in the kitchen, and watch in amusement as he falls face-first onto the bed next to the bowl. You quickly turn him over, laughing softly as you tucked him in.

LAW

Law doesn't make mistakes often, but when he does they have extreme consequences. Like now, when you'd warned him about something but he overlooked it, claiming it wasn't important. Which ended up with him sitting on your lap, looking at you with big, innocent eyes - an infant.

You weren't sure what to do with this tiny version of your pale boyfriend. So for a while you just sat there and kind of...stared at each other. He was looking into your soul - you were sure of it, because no baby has a look that intense.

"So..." You started, "What do you want to do?"

Blank stare. That's all you got. Law was not so different as a baby, he was extremely quiet and reserved, he didn't move much and he just stared. It was almost like talking to a baby doll.

"Right, um...are you hungry?" You tried again.

He blinked. Then he crawled off your lap, attempting to jump off the bed but being caught by you since he would very obviously hurt himself. He tried to glare, but he was so small and cute it became a very adorable pout.

"You're tiny remember!" You groaned. "I know you don't like asking for help but come on, you're going to hurt yourself."

He rolled his eyes.

"HEY!"

Then he giggled, something you didn't expect. Your jaw dropped, eyes going wide as he flat out giggled at your response to his little display of attitude. He was so cute giggling that you didn't want him to stop, but once he realised you were grinning at him he immediately went quiet and pouted again.

"You're impossible."

Another giggle, and you side-eyed him. He only giggled more before pointing to the bookshelf in his room. You sighed and took him over to it, letting him reach for whatever book he seemingly wanted you to read to him. Of course, it was a medical book.

You laid him against your chest as you leaned back against the headboard, opening the book and going to its contents section to decide which section to read to him. But he grew impatient, and reached out to grab a tiny fistful of pages and turn them over.

"Alright then."

As you began to read, Law listened intently and focused on the picutres, his eyes wide with interest. You smiled softly at the sight, marvelling at how cute he was when he was curious at this size. But he was still a baby, so after a few minutes of reading his eyes started to droop and he turned his body a little so he could grasp your shirt in his small fist. And then he was out, and you smiled and kisses the top of his head as you set the book aside and cuddled him.

Baby Law was so sweet and cute, even if his attitude was just like adult Law's.

KAKU

"And what have we learned?"

Of course, you couldn't expect a response from the man you were asking that question. That would be because he was now less than a year old, laying flat on his back across your legs and gazing up at you with big, innocent eyes. He just cooed softly and kicked his small legs lazily, reaching for you.

You sighed. The idiot had gone head-first into a fight he didn't properly think through. It was his most reckless move yet, and now he was paying the price as a baby. Simply because Jabra had pissed him off.

Kaku was a relatively calm and quiet baby. He didn't fuss much, and he wasn't too noisy. Adorably, he was also a shy and easily flustered little infant. But one thing he did want was your attention, and he wanted it the whole day.

So you carried him around the whole day, much like he'd done when you'd been babified. You rarely left him alone, and if you did it was only for bathroom breaks or like five seconds. You were afraid of leaving him around alone, because the other CP9 members could be mean and careless and some of them would definitely be rough with and bully him.

You had to admit, his little long nose was the cutest thing ever, apart from when he accidentally bumped it against you and then giggled. He was so sweet, rubbing the spot he bumped with his small hand and then giving you a sloppy kiss.

Baby Kaku is also very playful. Once he gets comfortable in his state. He tries to make funny noises with his long nose and then erupts into the cutest baby laughter right after. He will also curiously pull on his nose, only to have it wobble like a springboard when he's done, causing more giggles.

"Come onnnnn it'll be good!"

Unfortunately, he was very fussy with his food. You were trying to feed him some mashed potatoes, because that was the only appropriate thing you could find, but he just stared at you like 'really?' and kept his little mouth closed. After that, you were forced to go out and buy baby food.

Like Law, baby Kaku wants to be read to. But he won't be satisfied with the usual infant storytime books, because even as a baby he is much smarter than that. He prefers something historical, which may be boring for you but absolutely thrills him. He gets excited and bounces on your lap, tapping the book with his small hands while you're struggling to keep your eyes open.

When he's finally ready to sleep, he tries to fight it because he likes having you baby him like this. But eventually he drifts off when placed on your chest, because you're so warm and comfortable it lulls him into slumber.

When he wakes up an adult, he looks sheepish.

"We learned not to rush into a fight recklessly."

LUFFY

If you thought Luffy was a menace as a teenager, you were really in for it when he got turned into an infant by the same devil fruit user who'd done it to you. Of course, Luffy being Luffy, he forgot about that and charged straight into the fight without even considering your plan. And that's what now led to you having to carry a very fussy, very tiny Monkey D. Luffy back to the Thousand Sunny.

As expected, he is an active infant.

"Luffy no!"

But not only is he baby Luffy, he is baby Luffy with stretchy abilities. As seen now when he giggles loudly and grabs the mast, before propelling himself halfway across the ship. If Robin hadn't been around to catch him using her own devil fruit ability, you're pretty sure you'd be facing a sobbing, snotty-nosed little captain.

You have to chase this baby around the ship to actually change him or do any of the basic baby care things. He is so quick to crawl away when it comes to diaper-changing, but he is even quicker to crawl back with the promise of food, as usual. You cannot take your eyes off him though, because if you do for even one second he's gone and a ship-wide hunt for the naughty infant has to be conducted.

Infant Luffy is VERY good at hide and seek.

"Now where could Luffy be?" You say out loud as you walk around the ship, amused when a little giggle follows your words. "Maybe he's in the kitchen." Another giggle. "Or maybe he's right...here!"

And when you uncover his hiding spot and grab him, he squeals and tries to wriggle out of yours arms. But ultimately starts giggling and laughing uncontrollably as you tickle his little sides and smother his tiny face in kisses. He loves having all your attention on him, and will not hesitate to trip someone from the ground or reach around you to pull on their hair if they take your attention away from him for even a second. Baby Luffy is a lot clingier than grown up Luffy.

But if you sit him down in the aquarium or in the crow's nest and let him watch the fish or the water while you tell him stories about Shanks that he's told you before, he'll calm down a little bit and relax. His eyes will go big and he'll stare at you in awe as you tell him all of these stories, even if he doesn't really understand. And when you make big gestures to try and show him, he cutely tries to mimic you and make those same gestures with his little arms. Which always has you cooing at him and him giggling at how cute you found it.

He was so hyper that you almost couldn't put him to sleep, and you didn't think he would ever fall asleep. But after a while of you - once again - chasing him around the ship, you finally caught him and managed (somehow) to rock him to sleep.

When he woke up a grown boy, there really wasn't much difference in his behaviour, even after you told him about his infant self.

SANJI

Honestly you don't even know how it happened. One minute you're engaging the enemy, the next your old friend with the de-aging devil fruit appears and this time targets your boyfriend. Which is why now you're sitting in the kitchen with a pouty baby cook on the table, the two of you just staring at each other.

When he realises he can't cook like this, the poor blonde bursts into tears, looking so upset it breaks your heart. You quickly pull him into your arms and cradle him, and he slowly calms down and looks up at you with his big, round eyes.

"There we go," you smiled at him, kissing his little cheek. "It's okay."

If you think Sanji is clingy as a grown up, his clinginess soars to new heights as a baby. He will absolutely not let go of you if you're holding him, not for any reason other than you needing the bathroom. He wants your attention on him for the full 24 hours, which of course is nothing new but still makes you laugh every time he gets pouty when you're not looking at him.

He's also a very sly baby. He uses his cuteness to his advantage to get Zoro in trouble, because every time he cries and points to Zoro, you glare at the swordsman or chuck something at him, much to Sanji's amusement.

"You're ugly and annoying even as a baby!" You heard Zoro shouting when you'd left them alone for one second to fetch some food for Sanji. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"ZORO!" You chided as you walked back into the room, coincidentally as soon as Sanji decided to start bawling to exaggerate the situation. He pointed at the green-haired swordsman as he cried, making you sigh and smack him upside his head. This caused Sanji to stop crying and giggle, earning a glare from Zoro.

"Why, you-!"

"Zoro, he's just a baby," you sighed, "He's going to annoy you."

"He annoys me regardless," the swordsman huffed, walking away. "Just keep that little demon away from me."

Sanji stuck his tiny tongue out at the bulky man's figure as he retreated, making you laugh and scoop the cook up into your arms. He immediately relaxed and cooed happily, playing with your shirt as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Sanji is a fussy eater, which you kind of figured. He doesn't settle for just any soft food, he specifically likes pureed apple. So every time you have to feed him, you have to either feed him some you got from an island you had to stop at when you first found out about his preference, or you have to puree the apples yourself.

Changing Sanji's diaper is also easy, because he's very calm and he lets you do it without much fuss. You have no issues putting him to sleep, either, because once you've changed him for the last time at night, he's out like a light. And you smile and bring him to your bed to sleep, laying him in between your pillows.

When he wakes up, he's back to being a smug little mf because he woke up in your bed.

USOPP

Honestly you didn't even know what had happened while you had stayed on the ship to keep watch. The others all returned looking weary but otherwise okay, so you just assumed Usopp was too, and you didn't think to ask why Brook and Sanji looked so suspicious, passing something between them behind their backs. That is, of course, until you heard the unmistakable sound of an infant crying.

"What was that?" You looked at them, raising an eyebrow.

"What was what?" Sanji asked, laughing nervously.

The infant cried again, and you stalked over and pushed them aside to reveal your boyfriend...only smaller. Baby Usopp stared up at you with wide, terrified eyes, tears streaming down his adorably chubby cheeks.

"What the-How did this happen??"

You looked up, but everyone avoided your gaze and made excuses to leave. So you just sighed and picked the baby up, wiping his tears away and gently rocking him to calm him down. He did eventually, but the terror never left his eyes as he got hold of your shirt collar and never let go.

"Hey, hey," you cooed softly. "It's okay, I'm here."

When he calmed down, you realised he had been so scared that he'd messed himself, so you changed him. Poor Usopp was already so nervous and frightened as a grown up, that as a baby he was almost always shaking. But you put him at ease, and whenever he was in your arms he was calm, relaxed and very playful. He liked your hair, liked to play with it and also, apparently, eat it.

"Usopp no!" You laughed as you once again had to pull your hair out of his tiny mouth. His bottom lip trembled, and you quickly amended it by kissing his cheeks and giving him something else to play with.

He liked to tinker even as a baby. You gave him the safest things he could play with, and he would try to arrange it in a certain way that wasn't just a jumbled mess. You were very impressed when he managed to stack all the gold coins you'd given him to play with - under Nami's strict supervision, of course.

However, he was naughty when it came to being fed. It wasn't that he was a fussy eater, he just liked to play with his food. And he had incredible aim, so every bunch of food he threw landed on its intended target. Which was you. Sanji had tried to feed him, but the stress of wasted food got to him and you had to replace him before he yelled at poor baby Usopp.

Putting him to sleep is relatively easier than putting anyone else on this list to sleep. As soon as you noticed his eyes drooping while you told him a story - one of his own made-up adventures - you picked him up and placed him on his bed, and he was out.

When he woke up in the morning, all grown up, he groaned.

"That was the scariest experience of my life."

A/N: I'm so sorry if this seems rushed or isn't as good as you expected, it's been a busy few weeks and i'm so mentally exhausted but i really wanted to get this out for you! Again, requests that were in my inbox before i closed them will be posted as soon as possible! Please just be patient with me, 2024 is turning out to be a weird year for me.

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas d ace #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #usopp x reader #usopp x you #one piece usopp #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x you #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x you #kaku x reader #kaku x you #one piece kaku

[taintedcigs]

— if you're feeling lucky

pairing: fwb!eddie munson x f!reader

summary: friends with benefit never ends well... or does it? based on this prompt by @dumplingsjinson (wc: 1.2k+)

warnings: just absolute fluff, maybe tiny angst, and a kiss, and thats it, oh and my shitty writing.

author's note: ignore the corny summary im lazy. the title has no meaning i just luv that song omfg. not proofread. based on this lovely request i got from angel @voyeurmunson i hope i did it justice i am so very rusty!!!! and the ending is rushed i AM SORRY

pleaseeee reblog to support me. ty!! mwah.

Y​​ou knew this would eventually happen. You agreed to this stupid "arrangement" knowing that this would be the outcome.

Just because you couldn't keep your feelings in check. Just because the two of you kissed hazily one night, minds filled with each other and the cheap weed Eddie provided. Like a knot that had been waiting to be undone, unraveling, so quickly, fading just as much—if not more quicker.

You should've seen it coming.

From the way your last rendezvous ended, when you accidentally kissed him goodbye on his way home. It was a simple, honest mistake.

Or was it?

The two of you had a set of rules; fucking with no feelings attached, make sure none of it got in the way of your friendship. It was supposed to be simple.

But that goodbye kiss was intimate, more than just fucking, and much more than your stupid friendship.

His cheeks burned a salmon pink, your plushy lips tainting his with something he had never experienced before; pure affection. Making him splutter, almost tripping on his way out of your house.

You barely registered what you did when he finally left, too enamored to even notice. Your son-of-a-bitch subconscious playing its tricks on you, feelings acting out before your logic can even kick in.

Stress ate away at you, but you assumed he wouldn't make a big deal of it. That this wouldn't ruin anything. He would forget this by Monday.

By the time he ignores your fifth call, and even goes as far as to avoid you in town, you start to blame your poor assumption skills. Try to ignore the insecure feelings that churn in your stomach.

Anger replaces those thoughts in an instant, because how could he just fucking end things without even talking to you?

Did he not even like you as a friend anymore?

Did one kiss really disgust him this much?

A lump sits in your throat at the unanswered questions, anxiety seeping through your skin, eating away at your organs, consuming you.

And after hours of endless anxious thoughts rummaging through your mind—and a long talk with your girlfriends where they urged you to talk to him, you end up at his door, arms crossed against your chest, wearing a scowl.

He opens the door with a bewildered gaze, your name falling softly from his lips, like a prayer, devoid of the lewdness it held than the last time you saw him. Much more affectionate, shattering your heart in every way possible.

"What is your problem?" You don't mean to go all out on him, especially when looks this good, bittersweet gaze meeting yours, tousled curly hair framing his face just in the way that has your heart skipping a beat.

"W—what?" He splutters.

You brush past him in a fury, "do you hate me now or something?" Your anger doesn't hold the same weight anymore, tone now laced with insecurity, a sadness that finds its way into your skin.

You don't let him talk, "do you realize how fucking childish this is? Ignoring my calls? Avoiding me?" He watches the way your brows quirk when you explain yourself, teeth pulling on your bottom lip worry, he wants to kiss it, your thoughts, worries away.

"That's not—"

"You could've just talked to me if—if you had any problem, ignoring me is fucked up."

Plushy lips open to speak, to explain himself, but you don't let him, fluttering your thick lashes at him, rambling on and getting more and more upset each time you spoke, tugging at his heartstrings, making him want to slap himself for being the source of your worries.

"We could've just talked this out, you know? W—we could've set up clearer boundaries and uh—" You were growing more and more frustrated, words getting mashed together with how emotional you were being.

"Will you let me—"

Again, you didn't let him speak, wanting to get it all out, knowing that this might've been the last time you spoke to him. Ever.

Your lip wobbled at the thought. "I—I just... 'm sorry, I broke the rules, okay? I—I swear it won't happen again, I don't want our friendship to be—"

"I can't be friends with you anymore!" He breathed, tone loud enough to startle you, the weight of his words taking a while to sink in.

You gulped, physically, mind too hazy to register what he said, that horrible feeling caging your chest, eating up the words that are unable to leave your lips. "Oh... uh—uhm, o—okay." You nervously nip at your nails, not knowing what to do.

"I can't do this anymore, either." He adds, pointing toward the space between the two of you, and you're unable to meet his gaze, too scared. The tears begging to be let out.

"Why—" You take a deep breath before you continue, prying your gaze from his stupid wooden floors, and back into those swirly caramel hues, now big enough to hypnotize you. Softening you in seconds. "Why not?"

"Fuck..." He mumbles, this time he's the nervous one, cheeks flushed with the prettiest pink all over. Fingertips trace against your features, settling on your cheekbones, and you let him. "Because I'm starting to get greedy, sweetheart."

Hope gnaws at your insides, the way something flashes in his gaze has you healing all over, the hold both of you have over each other is strong enough to gravitate you, yet both of you are too dumb to see it, notice it.

Until now.

"I can't just have that and be okay with it... I want—fuck that, I need more," He grumbles, desperate, a silent plea. Your mouth grows dry, lashes fluttering heavily to process it, the world stops spinning on its axis at the implication of his words.

"I need you." You can't help the way your gaze turns mellow, melting into his touch, everything you craved, and more, right in front of you.

A little taste of heaven.

Rolling your eyes playfully, plushy lips stretching into the prettiest smile, followed by a giggle—a heavenly sound he decides he can't fucking live without. "You absolute idiot," you breathe with a shake of your head.

"You didn't think to tell me that? Were you just gonna pull away? Bury your feelings away?"

He mocks a thinking face, "I'd write a few songs about it too, probably." Grin growing wider the more he looks at you, barely registering what the fuck is going on. That you even showed up at his door. That you're even entertaining the idea of being with him.

He's at the palm of your hand, and you don't even know it.

"Idiot."

Pushing a palm over his chest dramatically, he tilts his head in a manner that has you wanting to squeeze his cheeks. "An idiot you like back?"

"Unfortunately." His lips downturn, an exaggerated pout that has your smile stretching.

"An idiot I like too much that it's embarrassing," you add with a scrunch of your nose, a gesture Eddie wants to worship, want to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your face.

"I'll take embarrassing," he whispers, licking his lips before leaning in. You stare at his parted lips a millisecond longer, before pulling him by his stupid Hellfire shirt, pressing your lips hotly against his. 

Eddie only freezes for a second before his instincts take over, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat, deepening the kiss, lips parting to taste you, fully, completely. 

Only breaking the kiss once you consumed him, lazy smirk sitting on his lips, “Told ya we couldn’t be friends anymore,” he teases, that pretty dimple sitting on his cheeks. “Shut up,” you reply with a giggle, interrupting him before he can observe your features and try to drown you in compliments, fisting his shirt once again and pressing your plushy lips against his.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson drabbles #eddie munson fluff

[jellitchi]

vat7k designs in my head...

i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.

i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,

i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist

Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist

yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist

miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist

uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy

#vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian vat7k #hugo vat7k #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k #varian tangled #fanart #lizzysart

[norrizzandpia]

Let Me Be Happy. Don’t Be Mean. (LN4)

Summary: Y/n is not experienced in the realm of dating. For years, she has convinced herself that no man sees her as lovable. So, when a guy steps into the picture who checks off all the boxes, making her feel secure in his feelings towards her, she’s elated. However, when she goes to share in the excitement with her best friend, he ruins it all, along with it her happiness, by uttering three small words.

Warnings: language, mentions of grinding

Note: this is very very little women coded but nobody is related. You’ll see. Once again, this is a sad ending, but a happy one will be up soon. I just wanted to get something out to you guys because it’s been so long since i posted and im finally feeling up to returning to you all. Genuinely, i feel like this isn’t my greatest greatest work, nothing quite worthy of a comeback fic, but i hope that doesn’t deter you all <3 ill be back with some of my regular abilities soon just a bit rusty so forgive me lol

Y/n had never had a boyfriend. There were failed talking stages and men who stole longer-than-preferred glances at her, but there was never an official, labeled and definite boyfriend. A part of her life which her friends always teased her for, a part of her life which she was secretly so deeply insecure about. Throughout her twenty-two years spent on Earth, she had been told that she was intimidating, that she was “too pretty” to be approached, but, as high school passed and she graduated college without anyone putting in effort, the passing thoughts of “something is wrong with me” took hold. Maybe it was the way she dressed, or the fact she liked musicals; maybe it was the friends she hung out with, or the jokes she made; maybe it was her looks, or her smile; maybe her laugh was obnoxious, or she didn’t seem like girlfriend material. She could never escape the feeling that she was inadequate, that somehow, over the years, she had molded herself into a person that no one else would stick around for romantically. Somehow, she wound up unloveable.

Lando, in the beginning, was a maybe. Becoming friends with him was, if you asked her, one of the scariest things she had ever embarked on in her life. Famous, rich, and successful Lando Norris loved her company, even adding in a few questionable and suggestive comments in the midst of it all. Her friends, however relentless, had continuously talked about the possibility of Lando liking her, but she shut it down every time. With the way she had forced her brain to be wired, Lando would never see her as more than a friend. The comments about how beautiful he thought she was, though, she could never explain.

“Are you going to answer me or what?” Y/n’s eyes focused back to the man in her mind, sitting before her at his kitchen table and staring at her as if she had died and came back to life.

She leaned her body against the counter, “Yeah, sorry. What’d you say?”

He scoffed and laughed all at once, “You didn’t hear anything I just said? Are you okay?”

His eyes flitting over her face made her chuckle and shake her head, “Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking about the upcoming projects I have for work.”

He nodded, though his slightly furrowed eyebrows portrayed confusion, “Okay… Well, Max invited us to go out tonight. There’s a new club a few blocks down that he got on the VIP list for. You in?”

Deciding that maybe going out would somehow remedy the strong belief that no man wanted her, Y/n nodded.

—

“Can you hear me?!” Lando screamed into Max’s ear. His best friend looked at him, a drink in both their hands, and laughed.

“Yes, I can hear you, dumbass! When you yell right in my eardrum, it’s hard not to! What’s up?”

Lando was hesitant before leaning in once more, his tone lowered an octave, “Who is that dancing with Y/n?”

Max followed Lando’s eyeline, finding his good friend grinding up against a man he couldn’t even recognize.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. At least, she’s having fun!” His laughter at his comment died down when he turned his head to see Lando pouting.

Max scoffed, “Mate, you can’t be upset with her venturing out. She doesn’t even know you think of her that way!”

Lando shook his head, “I don’t see her that way.”

Max shoved his shoulder, “All I hear is denial, denial, and fucking denial. When you wake up one morning and find out you loved her all along, don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re too late because she’s with someone else.”

Lando laughed it off, though the pit in his stomach made him want to puke up the alcohol he had consumed for the night. Maybe he had just had one too many, he told himself.

Yeah, it was the alcohol consumption.

Max’s piercing gaze leveled with Lando’s, liquor coursing through the Brit’s veins as he said lowly, “I’m sick and tired of that bullshit.”

Lando rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Max nodded feverishly, “Yes, you do! You know I can’t fucking stand the way you shun your feelings for her! I know it’s probably a dick move on my part to tell you how you feel, but if you keep dancing around her, you’re gonna lose her. I don’t want to see that for you.”

Lando shook his head briefly, coolness flowing from him as if Max’s words didn’t strike panic within his blood, “I’m not going to lose her, Max. I think alcohol makes you overdramatic.”

Max groaned and stomped away, liquid sloshing out of his glass as he retreated into the crowd. Lando’s eyes were left to fall back on his Y/n. The man’s hands were on her hips, swaying hers against his as he kissed her neck. He hated the sight and he didn’t know why.

Truthfully, he did know why.

—

“If a guy visits you at work with your favorite coffee order, does that mean he’s interested in you?” Y/n waltzed into the sunlit living room of Max’s apartment, Lando sprawled out on the couch as Max scrolled through his phone on a big chair in the corner.

“Uh, yes.” Max replied quickly, before Lando had the opportunity of selfishly saying no.

Holding her phone in one hand and the other balled in a fist, Y/n blurted, “Are you sure?”

Max pulled himself from his slouched position, looking at her intently and not daring to see the way Lando was eyeing him. He could feel the fiery gaze on his shoulder, “No man is going out of his way to buy you your favorite coffee and come see you at a corporate office for .2 seconds. Trust me, Y/n, the man likes you.”

She nodded her head side to side, “Mmm, maybe.”

”He’s right.” Lando murmured, a heavy heart as he watched her gaze snap to his, as if his thoughts on the subject convinced her more of what was right in front of her.

Max side-glanced him, a war in his head as he tried to decipher Lando and whatever he was trying to accomplish.

“You think?” She whispered, looking down at her phone when it buzzed. A blush across her cheeks made Lando’s heart squeeze.

Did she smile that way when he texted her?

Lando cleared his throat, “What’s this guy’s name? Is this the same guy you were dancing with at the club?”

She nodded, “Yeah, it is. His name is Chris.”

“Last name?” He continued, listening intently for the information.

Y/n laughed, “What? Are you going to Instagram-stalk him or something?”

Yes.

”No. Just curious.” He smiled lightly. All the while, Max was rolling his eyes.

”Chris Greenberg.” She smiled back, a moment between the two where Lando seemingly couldn’t tear his eyes off the grin displayed in front of him.

He sat back, “Alright, most generic name I’ve ever heard, but okay.”

She shook her head at Lando, the smile still on her face as she plopped on the couch beside him.

His arm instinctively draped around her shoulders, his hand toying with the ruffled fabric of her shirt. Lando tried not to fall into the mess of her in his mind yet the soft skin under his fingertips made his mind get away from him. He didn’t want it to be real. He didn’t want the morning where he woke up and he found out he was in love with his best friend to come.

But, he also couldn’t bear the thought of Chris touching her in the way he does. He willed himself not to think about Chris seeing her naked or taking care of her in the way Lando always had. Maybe he had never kissed her, but he had held her hand in moments of pain and he had been there for her when no boyfriends had the privilege of being able to show up. Lando had always been something to her and she had always been something to him, they both knew that.

He wanted her to stay single and he wanted her to stay his precious girl.

And suddenly, he couldn’t deny what he felt for her.

On the couch, with Max a few feet away from them and his fingers only lightly grazing her warmth, Lando’s eyes turned to her and he gave into the pull that he had been fighting for years.

A minute away from begging her to see him for what he needed her to, her phone lit up between them. One singular notification lit up the screen, her lock screen a picture of them two after he had gotten his Silverstone podium. A notification which was from Chris, a blushing emoji next to his name.

His mouth opened from the words he so recklessly wanted to say, he realized what he was about to do: confessing feelings he found out about five seconds ago while Max was sitting next to them. So embarrassed and slowly reaching a state of distraught, Lando retracted his arm from her body.

Y/n grabbed her phone from the space between their legs, opened her phone, and giggled at whatever stared back at her.

Lando knew his face said it all. He was always facially expressive. If she had turned her head, or Max, they would’ve seen it written all over his face. The sickening realization that he was in love with the girl sitting beside him.

Part of him loved that they weren’t paying attention to him, but another part wished she would move her head a few centimeters, catch his eyes, and let him study the way she took his breath away.

—

“Where are you going?” Lando stumbled over his feet as he ran to the door. Y/n in a black, tight dress looking stunning had alarms going off in his head.

Her hand on the door knob, “A date.”

“Why?”

She laughed slowly, “Um, because? Chris asked me? I said yes?”

Lando’s hands rested on his hips, gray sweatpants slugging low on his waist as he stared at her, “Where’s he taking you?”

She mirrored his stance, “Why?”

He scoffed, “Because! I should know where you are! What if he tries to kill you and nobody knows your location?”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and opened the door. In the crack, Lando could see Chris standing against his car with flowers in his hand, looking like everything Y/n deserves and more. Chilling as he realized he’s trying to fight something that is not meant for him. Y/n doesn’t deserve him. She deserves someone who will sleep next to her every night, who won’t leave her every weekend for their job. She deserves someone who is available and dependable. He isn’t that. He will never be that. Chris already is that.

“I will be fine, Lan. Thank you for worrying, but Chris is a nice guy.” She smiled, not giving him room to argue as she slipped out and closed the door.

He stared at the wood for a moment or two, hearing her giggles from outside and knowing how taken she sounded. He wanted her to turn around, to open the door back up and say something that would give him confirmation that Max wasn’t right; that he didn’t realize too late the things he felt for her.

She would never come to the door and Lando would, after fifteen minutes of waiting and hearing the tires drive away, slink back to his bed.

—

She came to the door. Knocking frantically and rambling the moment Lando opened it, Y/n burst into his apartment.

Lando’s hands raised in the air, “Woah, woah, woah, slow down. I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

He watched her face light up before she took a deep breath and withheld his favorite smile, “The date went so amazing, Lan! He is so considerate and… and he listens! Lando, he sat there and listened to me ramble about my family, my friends, and everything else about my life and then asked me questions about the things I was mentioning! He likes the same things I do and he’s so cute and I can genuinely feel like he really likes me this time! He puts in the effort! He! Puts! In! The! Effort! Lando! Seriously, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy!”

Even though he knew it before answering the door, her bursting summary of this perfect guy solidified it for him.

She came to the door, but she didn’t come for him.

He stared at her, his heart emptied out of hope as he watched her big smile dwindle down.

”Why don’t you look happy for me?” She cocked her head as he stared back at her, a dead expression adorning his usually calm face.

”I love you.”

Lando watched her face drop, a hopeful smile morphing into a void. Her bag dropped to her feet and she leaned her head forward, “Stop.”

He blinked at her, “What?”

She looked back up at him, “Stop, Lando. Don’t say that.”

He scoffed, “It’s true!”

Glistening tears pooled in her eyes, “Lando, stop. Don’t be mean.”

He shook his head, “Y/n, I’m not being mean. I’m being honest.”

She roughly wiped the wetness that had fallen to her cheeks before looking at him with such a deadly gaze, “No, you aren’t! This is so fucking selfish of you! For once, I’ve found someone that will put in the effort and that I can genuinely trust in making the right decisions when it comes to me! And, now, here you fucking are, telling me you love me! It’s fucking cruel! Can you just let me be happy just this once? Why can’t I get my chance to be in love? You’ve experienced it! Why can’t you just let me do it?!”

He took a step closer to her and she took one back, “I do want you to be happy! I want you to be with me!”

She crossed her arms, “Oh, and you’re going to make me happy?”

“I will try.” He whispered.

She memorized the heels strapped around her feet, “Not good enough.”

He reared back, “What?”

She willed her eyes to meet his, “Not. Good. Enough. Chris will be good to me, I know that. I can’t trust that you’ll be good to me or be good to me until you get bored and find someone else to have fun with.”

”Is that what you think you are to me?” He asked, his heart reaching out for her, but breaking into pieces for how she views herself in his life before he can get there.

She looked up at him, eyes reddening under the tears, “If I meant something to you, if you loved me, you’d want me to be with the safe option.”

His hand trailed up her arm as tears fell from his cheeks similarly to hers, “I can be the safe option.”

”No, Lando. No, you can’t. I want Chris. I can’t deal with whatever life crisis you’re in the midst of right now.”

He groaned, “It’s not a life crisis. It’s me realizing what you truly mean to me.”

She waved her hand, “Sure, Lando.”

She moved away from his cornering, taking steps toward the door before Lando stopped her, “Don’t tell me I don’t love you.”

”I’m going to. I won’t give up the first guy to genuinely show me I mean something deeply to him for someone else who just apparently figured out they loved me after years of spending time together.” She continued by confirming his deepest fears, “You’re not reliable. You can't always be there when I need you to. That’s fine. I understand, but I’m not going to put myself in a spot to get hurt for you.”

He pleaded with her, “Why can’t you just give me a chance?”

”It’s not worth it, Lando.” She stared at him, “Let me be happy.”

”You can be happy with me.”

She shook her head, “Everything looks clearer in the morning, including your feelings for me.”

”What does that even mean?” He questioned, her form retreating to the door and practically screaming at him to let her go.

She sighed, “I’m sure you’re just tired. I’m sure you don’t mean any of this. How could you? Lando, you could get anyone. I’m not the girl you choose.”

Tears falling harder, he exhaled a quick breath, “You are the girl I choose!”

”And how long until I’m not?”

A silence followed, one that gave her enough time to open the door and leave. What was supposed to be the start of a new chapter for her turned into a reference to a past one.

The past chapter in her life where she loved Lando just as he described to her seconds before and a chapter where she convinced herself he would never feel the same. Still, she believed he never would. That what he had said to her was an episode, some dream he was sleep-talking in.

Lando would never pick her in the long run.

Even when he said he would.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris fic #lando smut #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris edit #lando norris fanfiction

[savannahsdeath]

hi i love your writing SO MUCH and idk if i requested this already but… do you think we can get a brothers best friend ellie?? readers brother DOES NOT want them together but they end up fucking when he’s asleep/not home. or reader goes to ellies house and eats her out while shes on call with reader’s brother?? either one is fine i would just love to see you write it

i think you requested that but i made it likee the brother didnt care so heres a second one🤭ill post the first one too tho!!

BBF!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, almost getting caught

writers note: im sorry its so short whateva💔

You couldn't decide whether you like it or not.

Well, of course you did. Ellie never failed to make you feel good, her strap hitting all the right places while her hands caressed your thighs. She was rough, but not too rough. Degrading, but also praising. Basically, she was all you could ever ask for and more. What was there to hate?

But at some point, there was this little voice in your head telling you you're pathetic. Pathetic for liking this, agreeing to this and... just admiring her overall.

Because, jesus, 'she's my brother's friend. Best friend. What am I going to tell him?'

You, as the little sister, always let him insult you. Your opinion didn't matter, you gave up on trying to be important long time ago. You didn't hate him, he wasn't that bad. It was just sibling love language. He just couldn't be nice. If he knew about you and Ellie...

You were good at hiding it, though. When you first met her, you didn't believe she's really friends with your brother. Not to be mean, but you didn't thought he'll get along with someone who seems so... perfect.

'She probably has a shitty personality.'

That's how you explained their friendship. And you were terribly wrong.

After she visited your house once, she kept coming almost every day. At this point, you got used to that.

Oh, well, not exactly... There was some awkward situations, like when you exited the bathroom in only a towel wrapped around your bare skin and you saw her leaning against the handrail in the hallway. She only ruffled your hair and laughed at your embarrassment, seeing you blush and holding onto the fabric like your life depended on it. Maybe it did, actually?

It wasn't long after that before you began to wonder -'She can't be friends with my brother... can she?'- You started to notice more things - her kindness towards you, a tender touch here and there, and the way she looked at you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So what if she was his best friend? Would he really mind?

But what if he did? What if he found out?

Suddenly that little voice in your head was screaming louder than ever, and that feeling of shame and guilt crept up on you again.

But no matter how much of the guilt you felt, and despite the small voice in your head telling you you're pathetic, it felt right. You felt accepted. Accepted by someone who was perfect in every way. The thought of telling your brother filled you with dread, but it seemed so far away. You could figure out that little problem later, right? Just for now, you could feel a rush of emotions - mostly guilt, but also a rush of lust that made you want more.

More and more.

And she gave you more.

A quiet -'fuck'- escaped her lips as she saw your cunt throbbing against her strap. Her hands continued firmly holding you down as you didn't even bother to stay quiet. You felt so good... and so ashamed... You wanted it to stop but at the same time, you knew you'd beg for more if she would even simply slow down.

It was really your own fault.

This was the first time in ages you were left home alone, so you immediately invited Ellie over. First time you won't have to bury your face in the pillows. First time she won't have to shush you. First time you could actually do everything.

You were fighting your own thoughts, not knowing which one are the bad ones. You had no idea if you're doing the right thing. And you most definitely weren't but you were too fucked up to realize that.

Ellie chuckled, hearing your not-muffled this time sounds. "Were you always this loud? Jesus, how did we manage to keep this a secret for so long?"

The truth is, she wasn't silent herself. Fine, she wasn't a whining mess, unlike you, but still - the little 'fuck's and praises escaping her mouth weren't too quiet.

You continued squirming and whimpering about how big she is and how much it hurts, hoping it'll magically change, though you didn't really wanted it to. Or maybe you did? You weren't sure. Your mind continued the fight wether it's good or pathetic, none of the sides prevailing.

She clicked her tongue in disappointment, but her smirk told you how proud she really is. "I know, I know, so stop moving so fucking much." She said.

Her raspy, tired voice was enough to make you squirm again. You weren't used to hear it in these circumstances before, since it's obviously the first time she could speak loudly and clearly, without worrying about your brother.

"I said something, doll." Her grip on your hips hardened, almost aggressively pinning you to bed.

You heard the ring hanging near the door, meaning someone opened them. Just by footsteps you could tell it was your brother.

"Should I stop?" She asked with mock-concern and interest. You realized your answer won't change anything - maybe just the intensity of her moves, so you didn't waste your energy answering. That was a sign of your obedience and helplessness Ellie waited for. "Good girl."

She rolled you on your stomach and tangled her fingers in your hair, pressing your head into the pillow. She shoved it down with every thrust - every hit of your climax - to stop you from moaning. And of course it didn't work completely, but they faded enough to be inaudible outside the room.

She was intentionally going faster and faster. She loved playing with you, feeling the thrill of it, even though you didn't find it so amusing. You digged your nails into the tattoo on her forearm, hoping to slow her down.

"Ya know what will happen if he hears?" She didn't seem to care that your fingers were literally drawing blood from her body. "You'll handle it. Unless you want him to find out?" She whispered.

You immediately shook your head, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut.

Then, your moment of focus broke as you heard knocking, on the door to your room this time.

"I'm back!" Your brother announced.

You asked him to tell you whenever he goes out or cames back, mostly so you knew if Ellie's free, since he only goes out with her. Today was the first time he went outside on his own and the poor guy had no idea she found a reason to visit your house anyway, just like he had no idea she did so even when he was home, in his room, right above yours.

The lack of response surprised him, so he knocked once more before shouting confused -'You there?'

Ellie looked down at you, daring you to answer, mouthing silent 'go on' in the most taunting voice she could.

"Yes! That's good!" Your voice was shaky and you knew he will notice.

He wasn't really caring, just curious, so he had to know everything. His first sentence sounded cute, like he really cared, but you figured out he's making fun of you as soon as you heard the other questions. "Are you crying? What, you weren't invited to some lame party? Or a boy you know for a week broke up with you?"

And what were you supposed to say? -'No, your best friend is fucking me for... probably more than an hour now, and her dick is probably bigger than yours, so I can't control my tears'

"Yeah, something lik- Oh, fuck off!" You screamed back, succeeding to pretend you're really hurt because of one of the pathetic things he accused you for.

He laughed. "Mhm- Whatever!"

The footsteps climbed up stairs and got silent. Ellie bit her bottom lip, holding back a chuckle.

"Does he really think of you so low?" Her hips slowed down again, but became more precise. "You did good, don't worry. It'll be over soon."

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #reqs open #wlw smut #ellie the last of us #bbf!ellie #bbf!ellie williams #bbf!ellie x reader #bbf!ellie williams x reader #brother's best friend #thank you nonnie #i love you nonnie #send anons

[haarrrys]

bo peep 🦢

wc - 1.1K

🏷️ tags - boyfriend!harry, fem!reader, long distance relationship, fluff, slight angst if you squint.

pairings - boyfriend!harry & fem!reader 🕰️🎧

summary - y/n is hiding something, or someone, from harry, who is on the other side of the world.

(a/n) no spellcheck, so i apologize in advance! i wrote this in like five mins so it’s kinda.. blah but I wanted to share it :)

“so.. I did a thing.” is the first thing y/n says to him after accepting his facetime.

“oh no..” harry chuckles, his eyes furrowing in confusion, and a little worry.

“please don’t be mad.”

“well.. love, that depends on what it is..” harry says, his once playful mood beginning to diminish. what if it’s something serious?

“it’s something that could change our relationship forever.” y/n says, a blank face staring back at harry through the screen. uncomfortable chills run down his body, and he wishes he wasn’t miles away from her.

“is this something we should be discussing over facetime then..?” harry sighs, a frown taking over his features. he was excited to call y/n after his show, having missed her the whole day, but now this uncertainty is fucking up his day.

“i better just show you now..i think it would be better this way.” y/n explains, shuffling heard from her end. from the background, he can tell y/n is still in their “shared” bedroom in england. (it’s harry’s, but he likes to call it’s theirs) for some reason, this eases his anxiety slightly.

“come here, it’s okay.” he hears y/n whisper.

“did you adopt a baby or summat? why are you cooing..” harry starts, but his words become quiet as the smallest little white kitten enters the frame.

it’s silent for a moment, until the little thing meows, and harry barks out a laugh that startles the kitten.

“oh god, love— i thought— I thought this was something serious!” he says in between laughs, attempting to catch his breath.

y/n pretends to be offended, but the smile she fights off her face says otherwise. “oi! this is very serious. could make or break our relationship, because im not returning her.” she explains, making harry smile at her cuteness.

“i thought we agreed no pets? for now atleast..” harry says. since he’s always touring, traveling, moving, adopting a pet just wouldn’t fit into that lifestyle. they’d have to get pet sitters, who more often than not would be spending more time with the kitten than them.

“i know but.. it’s so lonely here. i need a companion. when me and y’mum visited the animal shelter and i saw this sweet little angel.. I couldn’t leave her there. anne said she kinda looks like you too.”

harry chuckles, “should’ve known my mum had something to do with this. crazy cat lady.”

“don’t call your mother that.” she hisses, although knowing, there is some truth to his words.

harry ignores her comment, “im sorry that you feel lonely. long distance is..hard. but are you sure about this? when you join me on tour it’s gonna be difficult with a kitten.”

“im sure. ill take her everywhere if i have to, she’s the sweetest, calmest girlie ever.”

“and it’s okay, i knew what i was getting myself into when we started dating.”

harry frowns at that. “i feel like a shit boyfriend.” he admits, sighing. y/n frowns back, setting the kitten down on harry’s side of the bed, which he envy’s for a split second.

“your an amazing boyfriend harry. so don’t say that.”

“i feel like i’m neglecting you— i should be with you.”

y/n shakes her head,”y’not. long distance isn’t rare y’know? you love touring, it makes you happy, I’m not upset. sure it gets..lonely, but that’s just part of being miles apart right? would be weird if I didn’t get lonely.. the love of my life is across the world!” she laughs.

harry smiles, making no attempt to cover the blush that tints his cheeks. for the first time in a relationship, he feels theirs a mutual bond of just..love, and needing eachother.

“you make me happy too, more than touring i reckon.” he says, making her pout dramatically through the screen. “don’t make me cry in front of bo peep haz.” she sniffs.

“bo peep? as in… from toy story? you named the kitten bo peep?” harry says, a serious look on his face before he breaks into laughter.

“wha? it’s a good name! i call her bo for short. don’t laugh at it! and also, not just from toy story..it’s a nursery rhyme too.” she says, acting offended.

“sorry love, it’s not a bad name. i kinda love it. bo.” he tries.

y/n smiles, nodding, before she yawns.

“tired babe?” harry asks, remembering it’s pretty early for her right now. it’s ‘twelve am’ for him.. so it’s like, five or six am for her.

“mhmh..couldn’t fall asleep with this little one.. feel like a new parent. im scared something will happen to her. also, wanted to hear your voice.” she says, yawning again at the end of her sentence.

harry coos, “imagine when we have babies, you’re gonna be a wreck.” he laughs. the topic isn’t foreign, or uncomfortable for them. in the two years they’ve been together, talking about babies and marriage is something that always comes up in their conversations, especially late night ones.

in past relationships, talking about children so early on would frighten harry, but with her.. it just seems so normal. he can talk about their nonexistent babies and actually picture their family; curly brown haired babies with harrys green eyes but their mothers face.

“me? y’know your gonna be much worse. i can already see you freaking out.” she tiredly laughs, images of harry frightened when her water breaks, or when their baby takes a small little tumble that wouldn’t leave more than just a tiny scratch.

harry laughs, “your not completely wrong.”

“is bo asleep?” harry asks, watching y/n’s eyes shoot awake. he feels bad, she almost succumbed to her much needed slumber, but harry wasn’t done talking to her.

“umm,” she says, sitting up to look a bo, who is nuzzled comfortably into harrys pillow, soft meows involuntarily leaving her.

“look at her.” y/n coos, moving the camera so harry can see bo.

“awhh, she’s adorable. i can’t wait to meet her. will you send me photos?” harry says. as soon as he’s up tomorrow, he’s gonna show all the crew members their newest addition.

“mhmm.. i already have a photo album for her.”

her words are lazier, indicating harry should let her sleep now, much to his dissatisfaction.

“alright baby, it’s been good talking to you, but I think you need to sleep now.” harry smiles, causing y/n to groan, “m’sorry i couldn’t talk long..will you stay on the phone?”

harry shakes his head, “think we both know that only ends with me talking off y’ear love. you can call me when you wake up.” he says.

y/n frowns, but nods. “g’night harry, i love you. bo loves you.”

“night, love you both, sending my kisses.” he says, finally signing off when y/n blows him a kiss.

thank you so much for reading! ☕️ 🤍

requests are always open!

-fic rec masterlist-

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #boyfriend!harry #harry kitten #harry fanfiction #harry x reader #harrys house #harrystylesfluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles fic #one direction fanfiction #harry styles concept #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fanfic

[boyfhee]

FAIR AND SQUARE › lhs

SYNOPSIS › one thing about life— it's unpredictable. for example, you made a note to yourself about not associating too much with heeseung for your own peace of mind, letting him stay as the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, except one thing leads to another and you find yourself face to face with the said man with your feelings all over the place. a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition, let the game begin.

WORD COUNT › 20.2k

GENRE › academic rivals / friends to lovers, mutual pinning because they're just competitive and oblivious ft in denial, fem reader, quite the 'he fell first but she fell harder' thing eye guess . . .

WARNINGS › mentions drinking, sheds light on family issues ( mostly on the reader's side ) bruise and injury, slightest of angst, arguments, suggestive ( fourth section, towards the end ) profanities, let me know if you spot more

PLAYLIST › tune in for a better experience

NOTE › i love this fic with all my heart and lungs, even more. anyway, i'm sorry to academic rivals fans, this doesn't have academic blood and gore, as quoted by my dear mai. SPEAKING OF MAI EVERYONE THANK @maiverie FOR BETAREADING THIS FIC!!!!!! im not lying when i say i wouldn't have finished writing this yesterday if it wasn't for her, like thank u for ur super helpful review that got my brain juices flowing :< luv u fr. ALSO both heeseung and reader are taking post grad course so of course, they're aged up ( no ages specified ) have fun reading.

I. BANE OF EXISTENCE

one thing about life— it’s unpredictable. 

for example, you’re in the library writing and reading papers on the topic you love, the one that you’re supposed to enjoy and the one that will become the reason behind your earnings in the near future, but here you are, sitting with a headache and a cup of coffee on the side. who knew the subject you've liked since grade one will betray you and become the potential bane of your existence? not you, surely enough. wednesday noons are for basketball matches, which explains why the library and hallways are quieter and emptier than usual. even the teachers make time for the tournaments off their busy schedules, it’s understandable— your university is known for having one of the best sports teams in the league, and the basketball team being the defending champions does nothing but fuel the pride of students and staffs as if they’re the ones on the court, trying to get the ball in the basket.

you wouldn’t say you don’t like being a part of the crowd because you’ve been to the badminton tournaments and know that watching matches is as interesting as playing, if not more. you just don’t have the time to attend any. with assignments piling up and exams ‘round the corner, you’d rather spend your last two months of the semester studying instead of yelling at the bleachers. you can always get the recordings if you ever feel like watching one, as for the results, the word goes around faster in your department than anywhere else, all because of one of the students being on the team. 

you try focusing, you really do, but your cup is just as empty as your brain and your phone is going up with notifications. you don’t see the point of miyeon spamming the gc with updates on the match when everyone in the group, except you, is with her, watching and cheering alongside. muting is a choice which you choose not to do, and the reason is between you and god, to be honest. long story short, it’s the lack of motivation clogging your thought process and the realisation that your friends are out there enjoying themselves unlike you is blocking any means of logical thinking. a day or two spent not studying wouldn’t make you fail the classes, and even if the guilt is pooling inside, you pack your stuff and walk out of the library, making your way to the indoor basketball court. 

the screams grow louder as you approach, each step reminding you that you still can go back as you choose to ignore it. exams can wait, you tell yourself, a day to myself can’t. your mother would tell you to take breaks and go out instead of studying all day, but being on top is an addiction. it’s no good, you wish other students would believe you, it’s a struggle, on the top, at the bottom, everywhere. you expect to turn a few heads as soon as you walk inside, which doesn’t happen, but you expected it. you don’t watch matches, this could easily be your third or fourth one, and the first basketball match, to be more specific. once you realise that everyone is busy watching the plays instead of noticing who comes and goes from the court, you make your way up to the one friend you manage to spot amidst the crowd— sung hanbin. indoor bleachers feel more compact than the outdoor ones. you've been to the football match last semester, courtesy of miyeon, and everything being outdoors really helps with the crowd and noise. 

“didn’t expect to see you here,” hanbin stands next to you, offering you a sip or two from his drink, which you politely refuse, eyes fixed on the court as if it was the home they’ve been searching for. “i thought you hate heeseung,” it isn’t until he takes his name that your gaze averts to heeseung. you don’t even know why hanbin would outright assume you’re here for heeseung. in fact, that man’s name didn’t even cross your mind until he was mentioned.

“hate is a big word, ‘bin,” your words are more of a whisper laced with hesitation, as if you aren’t sure of what you’re saying. hate, actually, is a very big and heavy word. despite its constant usage with your friends, you realise the weight it holds and the impact it has. hate and dislike— they’re different and yet similar enough to be used synonymously at times. not by you, of course, you have a clear distinction between the two, and as of now, you don’t know if what you feel for heeseung is a mere dislike or pure hatred. “i just don’t like him,” 

when he successfully shoots a three-pointer, you come to the decision that you definitely don’t hate him. heeseung is, more or less, the typical all-rounder straight-A student, the jack of all trades and fortunately enough, the master of all as well. he's the student teachers use as an example, the son parents wish for, the boyfriend people wished they had. lee heeseung is many things, and one of those is being the reason why you have the second highest score in your department instead of the first position, unlike how it used to be two semesters ago. 

heeseung transferred departments about thirty weeks ago, from chemistry to bioinformatics. it had been surprising on your side because not many opted for bioinformatics until they were certain of their goal. the course in itself is vast, like an ocean of several different fields and each and every one of them opens a door to a different outcome. bioinformatics isn’t something students picked overnight just because it had the vacancy and they didn’t like their initially chosen courses. as fun as the subject sounds, it demands consistency and time, something that heeseung lacks. you had seen him attend classes the first few weeks regularly, and then the ghost of him started sitting on the empty seat that belongs to him. skipping classes, arriving late, delayed submission of a couple of projects— you knew he wasn’t here to stay. it was to pass time, or whatever, you couldn’t care, didn’t care, not until he started acing the tests, practically dethroning you from your infamous ‘perfect all kill’ title that you had for getting nothing less than a perfect score, most of the time, give and take a few here and there. 

you still get good scores, amazing even, full score in theory and the same in practicals. it’s going well in lab manuals and project works but heeseung seems to get a perfect score in those too, something you started missing ever since he came into the picture. perhaps, it was something in the way he phrased his essays— you hoped it was. rumour has it that heeseung used to be a literature student, which could explain his outstanding english skills and his eloquent way of speaking. you even looked up his debate videos on youtube only to find more evidence on how skilled he is in public speaking. 

but above all, heeseung is, actually, just a really damn annoying student, quite literally the bane of your existence. he’s always set on stealing people’s spotlight during lessons, with you being the people, obviously, always answering questions with information that’s unrelated and probably even unnecessary. and for the shortest time, you even considered taking him off your ‘things i hate’ list because you were no different in highschool. when you’re the top student, it becomes a habit to talk about things as if you know them in your bones and impress teachers. hell, you even had rivals in highschool, although none of them got on your nerves the way heeseung does. basically, he has no reason to call you by weird names everytime you both pass each other in the hallways, or remind you that he’s the top student. ‘this is the vice-captain of the basketball team and the best student of the biotechnology department, lee heeseung, informing you on the up—’ seriously, no one wants to hear him introduce himself like that when you’re around. you’re pretty sure it’s engraved inside your brain with the amount of times he repeats it everyday. minjeong even says that heeseung is becoming more and more like sunghoon, and you would not know how or why because you didn’t attend highschool with sunghoon, unlike her. 

the court flares up with cheers when heeseung goes for a dunk which ultimately leads to their team winning the match, and you reach the conclusion that maybe you don’t hate heeseung but actually want to bang his head against the walls. your eyes follow him around the court, analysing his conduct during the match, the way he communicates so effortlessly with teammates using hand signs or quick phrases, the way he holds the team together when the ball is with him, despite not being the captain. heeseung might be the most unbearable person you’ve met so far, he’s actually just fine when his target is not you. you’re sure any other player is doing just as good but nothing comes close to how you see heeseung. it’s different, the light he is in, it’s unique, incredible, and inexplicably addictive. heeseung juggles between classes and basketball, you remember sunghoon talking about his part-time job when you passed by their lockers the other day. he doesn’t have it easy, you don’t either, but you had those all perfect kills by spending hours in your study while heeseung does better than you while winning matches, making money. 

it doesn’t take you long to realise that what you have for him could be dislike with a hint of jealousy, and you wonder if all the people would react the same way once they know who heeseung really is— a devil behind an angelic face, one who deliberately likes ruining things for you, as if his life depends on it. you still remember the day he personally texted you the wrong syllabus for a test, claiming that it had been updated and the professor had asked him to notify everyone. ‘and as you know, i have not been added in the group chat yet so i’m texting everyone personally,’ he had lied ever so smoothly as if his words consist of nothing but truth, as if lies are something he hasn’t even heard of. kudos to you for studying the original and correct syllabi beforehand, you still aced the test, if heeseung scoring the first rank is overlooked. 

you’re dragged back from your thoughts to the reality when a boy bumps into you while hurrying down to the players, hoping to get noticed. half of the students act like the team is actually a boy-band, you can see them on the front page of every single edition of university magazine. usually, you prefer waiting for the crowd to disperse before taking your leave from wherever you are, but a sudden reminder about the tests over text from your professor gives you a reason to leave early, all to make sure you could catch up to heeseung. you rush your way out of the bleachers once the teams start leaving the court, eyes fixed on heeseung to take a note of the direction he leaves. hanbin gives you a confused look before the words find their way out of his mouth. “where are you going?” 

“basketball shower room,” and your words could give him, and the other people who might’ve heard you, a wrong idea but you couldn’t care less. the goal was to see heeseung before he leaves the campus, which was highly likely because no one has it in them to attend four hours of classes after an exhausting match, not even heeseung, no matter how amazing he is. 

you make your way through the ocean of people, bumping into a few in the process as you make your way to the club room. a silent profanity leaves your mouth once you realise that the club room entrance might be filled with fangirls and boys, left and right, and the thought of shuffling your way out of the crowd to meet heeseung makes you reconsider your actions. heeseung might be a star student but isn’t amazing enough for you to step out of your comfort zone and do things to see him. 

“well, this is surprising,” your voice manages to turn his head towards the door. “thought you’d be busy with your fangirls, lee,” and it is surprising indeed because the hallways are unexpectedly empty with only a few people around. you would say they learnt to give the players their space after a game but that would be a lie considering the embarrassing history of students when it comes to people on the sports team. 

“they’re probably busy with jake,” heeseung responds with a smile, and even though he turns to his locker just as quickly, you could see the smile dancing on the corner of his lips. 

jake is rather a new player, a junior to be specific, and jay personally spent days waiting outside the physics department to get the guy on the basketball team. explains why he’s popular amidst students, he’s talented, good at studies— seriously, you wouldn’t understand how these people manage academics with sports. you couldn’t, and even if you managed to, you would end up passing out every few days. “does it suck to lose your fan-following to a newbie?” 

“not really. i still have you here,” heeseung wouldn’t call it ‘losing’ his fan-following because he’s using jake as bait to escape the crowd of students as quickly as possible. a junior has to make sacrifices, in this case it’s to save heeseung by sacrificing himself to the public. although, saying that he still has you looking for him even though a hundred others aren’t makes him feel better about himself. “no but seriously, what did you come here for?” 

“oh, it’s for the test on friday,” you pull out your phone, opening the group chat with the professor and the students who took the same course. it’s laughable how the universe put you in the exact same situation twice, although with the tables turned this time, and it takes everything in you to not tell him a made-up, wrong syllabi, and do what is rational. “the syllabi was extended up to chapter fourteen, till page three-ninety-seven. they sent it in the group chat this morning but i’m sure you hardly have time even to think about something else except basketball,” 

you’ve known heeseung for two semesters but that’s for the people to say. the truth is, you don’t know him outside what he shows to everyone else. you see him come and go, spot him around the bar with his friends on weekends you pass by it. you know he skips classes and asks students for notes. it’s not necessarily from you, though you’d prefer if he would ask you since you’re the best student in the whole department, after him, as much as you hate to admit it. on some days, you see him in the library, earphones plugged in. if you manage to sneak a glance or two, you’d catch him watching the match recordings and taking notes, you wouldn’t know what notes someone could take from matches. in short, you don’t know heeseung more than how everyone knows him. coming to the shower rooms and notifying him about the test might just be a discreet attempt at striking up more conversations with him, but also, you’re just fine with him being the academic rival slash classmate that he is. 

“yeah, semi-finals,” heeseung shuts his locker close, a sigh falling off his lips just like the water drops falling on his shoulder from the tips of his hair, after a shower. “doesn’t help that they’re at the same time as the quarterly assessments. thank you for telling me even though it means you’ll end up losing the first position to me once again,” and of course, the heeseung you know wouldn’t waste an opportunity to strike up a competition. it would be a lie if you claim to hate it because despite the sour look on your face, a part of you loves these little academic races with him. heeseung makes you strive to do better, he’s like the driving force you lacked which made college a whole lot better. after all, where’s the fun in getting a perfect score with the bare minimum effort, without some challenges knocking at your door? 

“what can i do, i’m all about fair play,” there’s a subtle shade behind your words, reckoning to the multiple incidents of him ruining things for you. this could take a really nasty turn if you were to resort to his ways, except you won’t because you’re better than him. “good luck, and we’ll see who loses the first position to whom,” 

heeseung wipes his hair before switching to texting on his phone, the smile still adorning his face like a jewel. you assume it’s the delight from winning a match, it’s obvious. his eyes couldn’t help but sparkle at every little achievement, always looking forward to something more, something challenging, that’s lee heeseung for you— someone who knows he has an easier way around things but would deliberately walk down another path and test his limits. shocking how it took you one basketball match to see the passion he has for things he’s interested in, that he’s more than a sport jock or a straight nerd, he’s more than someone who takes courses to pass time, more than someone who is just a show-off.

“heeseung,” the dislike, the hatred, the envy, it might all be a lie. “well played today,” because in the end, there’s a minimal possibility that you’re leaving the room with nothing but the slightest of admiration for the guy who is nothing but an obstacle between you and that first position in upcoming finals in two months. 

and it would be a lie too to claim that your words didn’t catch heeseung by surprise.

II. RIVALRY, FEELINGS, ETCETERA. 

it has been a little over one day since heeseung’s conversation with you outside the shower rooms, twenty-seven hours to be exact. twenty-seven hours of him hearing the same last words over and over again, twenty-seven hours of him failing all and any attempts at straight thinking and twenty-seven hours of him not thinking about anything except you. all of it ends up in three hours of practice and not one good shot from heeseung. the sighs and snickers from teammates fill the court every few seconds— truthfully, they never leave. heeseung is simply too lost to pay attention to them. 

“heeseung, you good?” a pat on shoulder from jake and the words following soon after manage to pull him out of his spiral of thought, even if it’s for a brief second. 

“he’s not, won’t be anytime soon,” sunghoon replies as if the answer was on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be revealed. “yn came to watch the last match, after all,” there’s a smirk on sunghoon’s face, heeseung can tell it in the intonation of his words. 

jay pauses just seconds before going for a layup, joining the conversation. “wait, she did?” 

“yep, saw her standing next to that hanbin guy or something,” 

“mate, you cannot be acting like this over a girl and that too, four days before finals,” this conversation, as a whole, is beyond jake’s comprehension. a part of the reason could be because he joined the team late, thus missing out on a huge chunk of internal jokes and gossip and goes amidst the players. and no amount of reasons can convince him into thinking that it’s fine to act out-of-character before important matches just because your crush showed up at one of your matches. 

“she’s not just some random girl. she never attends matches, but she came to watch my match,” heeseung clarifies as if the reasons behind his antics are valid and acceptable. “you wouldn’t know how i feel right now,” 

“you’re on cloud nine, we know, your crush gave you the attention you’ve been lacking but trust me, she would ignore you just as efficiently if she sees you perform like this,” 

“she’s not a crush,” and despite it being a well known fact amongst the basketball team that heeseung has a thing or two for you, he always refuses to accept it. one can say it’s the pride thing. you barely even talk to him unless it’s about studies, and your conversations are mostly along the lines of who outdoes whom in tests and assessments. moreover, everyone knows heeseung is the reason why you’re the second best student in the department— as much as you hate to admit it, again— because he transferred and flipped your world, probably even dribbled around with it like a basketball. a word goes around every few days about you glaring at him in class, which is not true, you’re instead focusing your eyes on something in an attempt to think. he just happens to sit right in front of you and be the object of focus. heeseung might as well believe that you hate him, even though yesterday’s conversation was far from how people talk when they hate each other, and his assumptions could account for the constant words of denial that fall off his lips. 

jay snickers before landing a hook successfully. “yeah, and i’m a pigeon,” 

“oh, shut it, jay,” heeseung turns to look at the other boy. “she’s just someone i admire. have you read her essays? her papers? god, we’re a year away from graduation but she’s already writing mind-blowing papers, one of them was even published in the monthly issue of some magazine. she’s already on her best performance and still tries to do better, always down to guide juniors with lab work and also is on the research team for the paediatrics department at asan medical centre. all this, and she studies all day. if i were her, i’d pass out. i can’t go a day without entering the court,” 

“and he says he doesn’t have a crush oh her,” sunghoon rolls his eyes, it’s like if he heard another line of excuses from heeseung, he could see the back of his skull and have a look at hs big, fat brain. 

“because i don’t? you guys never had someone you admired so much that they practically became your role model despite being in the same year?” unlike other things that heeseung does, calling you his role model has a reason. first, it can give him a reason to talk to you. heeseung is almost convinced that you hate him, and if this persists, it would get harder and harder for him to approach you, but with the lie— half lie— of you being his role model and so wonderful that he couldn’t help but admire you from afar while trying to overcome his social anxiety gives him a reason to talk to you. plus, it sounds plausible, he doesn’t understand why his brother says it’s bound to fail. 

the second reason and more to do with his friend group. no one in his friend circle is capable of keeping a secret— jay ends up spilling tea unconsciously, jake tells one person who he trust and that person turns out to be the most untrustworthy person ever, beomgyu, well he’s on the team but telling him would be like standing on a stage and announcing to the whole campus, and sunghoon, he’s the mother, he cannot digest food without disclosing secrets. even if it’s common knowledge that heeseung has a tiny crush on you, denying it in front of the whole campus everytime one of them brings it up helps him with his reputation and fortunately, ends up keeping it a secret. besides, he’d rather have people tease him for calling you his role model than having a crush on you. 

“i surely don’t have someone i admire to the point i read all their papers and know each and everything they’ve volunteered for,” jay argues back, set on proving his point. “tell me what am i gonna do knowing that she’s on the paediatrics research team?” 

“i think this is the most i’ve known about yn ever since classes started and that too, because of heeseung,” beomgyu chuckles, earning a side eye from heeseung in the process. 

“enough, let’s get back to practice,” heeseung intervenes in an attempt to change the topic. he does not want his closest friends making fun of him for liking someone— it’s supposed to be human nature to have a crush. 

“you get back to practice because you’re the only one fucking up because of your silly little crush. i’m done, jay, call me when we’re having a practice match because i need to attend theology or my professor would write me up,” taehyun passes the ball to sunghoon, the latter yelping in surprise at the sudden yet successful catch. 

“i don’t have a crush—”

“of course, let’s get you back to practice,” jake cuts heeseung off mid sentence, moving back to take his position as sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung, who, as expected, misses the catch due to lack of concentration.

it’s going to be a long day for the team. 

. 

. 

.

“a little birdie told me you went to see heeseung in the shower rooms?” are the words you hear as soon as your classes are dismissed, miyeon walking up to you and hanbin discussing the set of questions your professor distributed just a few minutes ago. 

“i didn’t go into the shower rooms, i was outside, near the lockers,” and there’s a difference. to be in the shower room implies you were there in the shower, which definitely gives rise to several wrong ideas of different levels. specifically, you didn’t even enter the locker room. you were outside, leaning against the door, watching heeseung as he walked freshly out of the shower, a towel around his neck, you both strike up a small talk. yeah, that was the scene, not with you in the shower and whatever miyeon’s imagination leads to after that. 

“so you did go!” she claps her hands together as if it’s a celebratory occasion, turning her head to look at the boy next to you. “what were you saying about yn not having a crush, habin?”

“it’s not a crush, miyeon,” and it’s true— heeseung is not a crush. he’s a classmate, a rival, an over-qualified and impossibly competitive student, someone you would want to take your time to study. “what, i can’t even go to tell a classmate about the updated syllabus for a test now? i would’ve done that for anyone, not just heeseung,” 

hanbin sighs, packing his bag. “sure, but he’s in the groupchat. he could’ve checked it himself,” 

“um, i doubt that,” you’re preparing a powerpoint in your head, multiple slides on why you needed to do what you did. “he’s busy with basketball and i know how he gets when the matches are around the corner. don’t you remember how he skipped two weeks of classes straight because of matches last semester? and it’s the finals this time, i don’t think he even opens texts about anything that’s not basketball. i mean, he responded to my messages six days later because he was busy with practice,” 

you say it like you’ve known heeseung for a decade and have been through the ups and downs with him. you wouldn’t care about who does what in the classes, if it’s a paper plane flying right over you, landing just second to the first row of seats or if it’s someone being brave enough and playing music during lectures. biology, in your opinion, is a subject for those who are serious about doing something unique while staying in the academic field. you don’t encounter troublemakers often, once a blue moon if the heavens make a mistake. on other days, it’s quieter than a library, emptier than cemeteries at night. 

to think your life as a biotechnology major got interesting after heeseung switched majors is astonishing and equally debatable. 

“i don’t see why i should remember all that about ‘just a classmate’ but thanks for telling,” and before you know it, hanbin and miyeon are out of the class, on their way to wherever their next stop is. seriously, they’re having it easier than you. they go to games, movies, drink on weekends— something you haven’t had a taste on ever since the year started. somewhere, you could be blamed for your hectic schedules. studies, lab work, and thesis, they suffice for all the stress a student in post graduation studies can handle. volunteering and writing papers is on you, things wouldn’t have been arduous if you had decided to move slowly, one step at a time. sometimes, the hunger for more leaves you starving— quite literally. 

you spend an hour or so in the classroom along with a few other students, going through the same old routine of yours— watch videos, take notes, transfer them to your document in your own words and make it sound as innovative and convincing as possible. heeseung would be better at this than you. you’re exhausted to the point that accepting your defeat to him doesn’t even faze you anymore. he used to be a literature student, had english as a side course as an undergrad, he’s bound to be better than making essays sound they came right out of shakespeare's drafts, phrases and metaphors that would put fitzgerald to shame. 

you didn’t care about what went down in your classes until heeseung came along. call it craziness or the weird impression you have of students in your field, heeseung is far from the typical biotechnology student aiming for a postgraduate degree. he skips classes, plays basketball as if studies are a side business, and yet still manages to ace every test like an all-rounder. he shouldn’t even be in classroom, he should be in the labs, being the most important subject of studies. there are days you think of him as a social experiment— how quickly can a robot piss off a straight-A student with its impeccable skills— of course, the subjects wouldn’t know it’s a robot but you do, you’re almost convinced he is one. there’s no way he’s the top student with the amount of effort he puts in. one would claim that he studies after classes, at home slash dorms, but you can bet your life he doesn’t. there have been numerous instances when you’ve spotted him in the background of someone’s picture at a bar. he’s always with people, he has a humongous friend group, god knows how someone can live like that. at first, you were convinced he isn’t real, as worrisome as it sounds, and if he is real then he needs to be studied. 

which leads to what you’re doing right now— making your way to the basketball court. you don’t know how or why you’re doing it. you started with your studies, ended up thinking about heeseung, and now you’re on your way to the basketball court. although, it’s not half a bad idea, now that you think about it once again. 

your mind goes all the way back to when you watched him play for the first time, which was just a day ago actually. you don’t know anything about basketball, you don’t know much about heeseung either, but there’s one thing you’re sure of— heeseung is class and heeseung on the court, they’re different. you’ve noticed the way he clicks his pen relentlessly out of nervousness when he can’t solve a question, the way his back tenses up for a fraction of a second as soon as he’s asked to explain something. you’ve seen the hints of fear in his eyes when he asked you for notes last semester just three days before exams, scared that he would fail. heeseung isn’t sure of a lot of things and basketball isn’t one of those. 

“you’re not practising?” you ask him when you swim out of your thoughts, watching him climb up the bleachers and sit next to you. the court seems much better when it’s empty, free from the loud cheers of spectators, but that could be just you. 

“i was, as you see, but i saw you up here and thought it was time for a break,” you could see his teammates shake heads at him in disappointment, proceeding to continue with their practice. “what’s up?” 

you don’t respond to him and instead, take your time watching the others practise their shots. you watch the way one of them, who you think is taehyun, goes for a dunk, credits to hanbin for telling you names for a few shots. next to you, heeseung shouts out a tip or two for the boy for him to have an easier and effective approach at the said move. heeseung is good at dunks, you’ve heard it from students, you’ve seen it in the last match as well. just one shot was enough to tell you how good he is at it, it’s like basketball flows in his veins, like he can close his eyes and still manage to get a basket. 

your eyes ghost up the court and shift to him— there’s a content smile on his face, a relaxed posture as if there’s nothing for him to worry about. he takes a sip from his energy drink, you wonder if he, or anyone from the team, even gets time to have their meals. the expression on his face, it’s something you’ve never seen on him during lessons. it takes you back to the match, how he looked on court a day before, certain of every move he made, every step, every breath, without doubts, no second thoughts. you’ve done enough lab projects with heeseung to know how his hands shake when he’s preparing a slide or extracting a sample from a centrifuge, afraid that one wrong move and he would mess up the efforts of everyone in the group. that hesitation is nowhere to be seen on the court, gone like it has never existed. as if lee heeseung, the star student and player, has never had an encounter with nervousness and hesitation in his life. there’s a thin line between studies and sport for him, you finally realise it after much consideration. maybe, you’re going beyond your boundaries and making assumptions about a guy you barely know, even if you would never voice all these thoughts to him, you think you know the reason why there’s a different him on the stage when the ball is in hands.  

“how did you realise that you like basketball? you know, like it enough to devote so much of your time and have it alongside studies?” because even if biotech is something he’s studying and wants to make a career in, you guess that it’s just a source of satisfaction. in your eyes, through your perception, basketball is what makes him truly happy. 

you don’t know why someone wouldn’t pick satisfaction over happiness, especially when it’s coming with its hands full of opportunities to grab that bag.

“eh, i don’t have a sob story about it, if that is what you’re hoping for,” he chugs down the contents of the can before crushing it to the slightest, eyes squinting at the opposite wall before they move back to meet yours. “i never had to sit and think about basketball and studies, you know, as in how am i going to manage both of them. it just happened. i started playing basketball in middle school and it has been with me ever since,” 

heeseung’s side of the story is simple— a mediocre guy who was introduced to sports by his older brother and now, it’s one of the most important things in his life. middle school heeseung preferred staying in and playing video games instead of going out. in fact, middle school heeseung resembles you in all the ways that make him different from you right now. he has been good at learning and remembering things, he takes liking to things quicker than others do. basketball was like for him— easy, quick, fun, like a way to release all the stress after a long day at school. in heeseung’s story, there isn’t a main character who helped him choose the path he’s walking right now. instead, all he had was his family who introduced him to the various aspects and opportunities, and he simply ended up joining hands with the ones he liked, deciding to not let it go before the dead end. 

“i want to have that passion for things,” a soft laughter falls off your lips, it’s an attempt to make your sob story look less pitiful. “i used to paint and play piano— but painting, mostly, was really good at it. i learnt how to draw before i learnt how to tie my shoelaces. i couldn’t go a day without painting, but then highschool happened, i had pressure to do well, expectations from friends and family, had a dream outside painting, and now, i haven’t painted in years,” 

unlike heeseung, art started as more than just a side business to you. it’s not something you were introduced to in the middle of your life but rather is something you grew up with. you can blame or credit your mother for making paintings and having them in almost every corner of your house. it’s one of the reasons why at five years old you were beyond fascinated at all the patterns and colours. no one would’ve guessed that science would manage to sweep you off your feet right from the first grade, given the way your hands danced a duet to their own melody along with a paintbrush, as if each stroke has a conscious life of its own. no one would’ve guessed that your mother would tell you to stop painting and focus on studies, neither would they have known that she would become the reason why you no longer feel the same way about art. as stated before, life is unpredictable— because no one would’ve guessed that sitting here on the bleachers with heeseung and sharing a piece of your life would water the seeds of doubts in your heart, the ones that bloom at the sight of him.

he thinks your story is sad— with all due respect, without sarcasm, of course. it’s the best he can say. “i think it’s more of a ‘connection’ thing. you think you’ve lost the connection but you simply need to pickup a canvas and some colours to relink, if you get me,” because heeseung has had somewhat of a same experience, with music, and sitting front of a piano to play one of sibelius’ symphonies after senior year highschool finals was all it took him to find his lost interest in music. even though it’s nothing more than just a hobby, even if it's just something he considers as a way to pass time, heeseung knows how it feels to let go of something that is an integral part of one’s life. 

“it has always been about timing, heeseung,” you shake your head, trying to prove him wrong using your own arguments. “you think i haven’t tried painting again? i still have art supplies stacked up in my cupboard. it’s all about timing. when you like something, you only get a few chances to make sure it stays with you for a lifetime. how many people do you know who have given up on their hobbies because they claim to have lost interest? the thing is, the interest is still there, it’s the inability and fear of not being able to do it again. if you timing is off, no matter how much you try, things won’t work, and what you love will end up becoming a closed chapter of your life,” 

a pause. he sits still, eyes admiring your face while his mind is busy replaying your words in the back of his head. heeseung wonders how valid they are when it comes to people. he likes you, despite the constant denial which is only for show, by the way. it doesn’t take a scientist to read him. reading him isn’t even close to rocket science, he doesn’t understand how you haven’t caught up even after being incredibly smart. he has seen you hang out with hanbin— heeseung hates that guy, by the way. there’s no solid logic, it’s just that hanbin seems to be around you all the time and heeseung thinks of him as a leech sucking blood off its host. heeseung would never admit but it’s just his jealousy playing tricks on him, and even though it doesn’t look like you have any romantic feelings towards that guy, it would be fucking embarrassing for heeseung lose you to a guy who isn’t even half as qualified as him. ( yes, he is judging characters based on academic qualifications, no heeseung wouldn’t explain why )

“i like you,” and so, he lets his feelings win for once, deciding to let his heart take control instead, closing doors to any room for rational thinking like it never existed. “you said it was about timing, about trying hard enough and having only a few chances, perhaps, just one bullet, and i’m shooting my shot right now. i don’t want to remember you as a closed chapter of my life,” 

it would be such a waste of chemistry if you end up becoming just a closed chapter of his life. heeseung has done his research, more like reading tons of books and watching hundreds of movies to understand the potential that two academic rivals have. no one knows this, not even his closest friends, but heeseung’s favourite genre might simply be enemies to lovers and living that trope doesn’t sound as bad when it’s with you. he has spent hours thinking about the number of productive library dates you could have, working on projects together and brainstorming about the next biggest revolution in the RDT world, changing the public’s outlook at genetics forever. it sounds stupid and makes him sound even stupider, even as a lost cause, but heeseung doesn’t care. in his mind, it’s the best date someone could have. to live and become successful together, it sounds like a perfect plan to him.   

truthfully, you have always been a part of heeseung’s future, near or distant. he always always pictures you in his life, standing next to him during graduation, bidding goodbyes at farewell, exchanging shy greetings at reunions ten years later while reminiscing about everything he did to irritate you, that would sound embarrassing a decade later. your presence will always be significant to him, he just hopes to remember you as something more than just a rival, just a classmate he never really got to know, just a person he spent his two years hating upon, just a crush he didn’t get to confess to. 

the catch— heeseung has already started picturing his future and you are not even sure of your present— and while he is looking at you for an answer, you’re lost inside your head, looking for words to articulate. 

heeseung is someone you planned to stay away from for the rest of your university life. him stepping into your life already costs you a lot, namely: dropping in ranks and losing your infamous title. his actions cost you the time you could use to study, which is actually upon you because you can simply ignore him instead of spending hours on thinking about his hows, whens and whats. heeseung was supposed to be the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, but beyond rivalry, feelings, etcetera. you knew the way you felt about him, even though you couldn’t be as certain as him, or even to claim you see him the same way he feels about you.

turns out, heeseung has always been sure of certain things in his life. 

“heeseung, i’m—”

“not sure? busy? stressed? i know you have a lot of things going on right now. take your time, study for the finals, finish your papers, sort out your own issues and then come back to me. i’ll be waiting,” it’s like he’s not only good at studying but also at reading minds, because heeseung seems to have guessed a part of exactly what you’ve been thinking. call it timing, jay calls him to get back to practice just a few seconds later— a perfect excuse to leave. “looks like my break is over,” 

you sit speechless, watching him walk away like an opportunity that just walked out of your hand. it feels like a slight defeat, like a test you failed when you could've scored better, if not a full score. it's funny because this wasn't a competition, you weren't rejected, more like you rejected him, but it still feels like he has the upper hand. it's funny and equally annoying because heeseung is supposed to be nothing more than just a nobody, somebody you aren't even supposed to spare two thoughts on, but here you are sitting with the guy with your feelings all over the place. 

“heeseung,” you stand up, your voice making him turn to look at you, both of you ignoring the sight of his teammates standing motionless in their positions, too stunned at your voice reverberating in the almost empty court. “let’s do this: if you manage to stand first in the finals, i’ll date you,”

a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition. his lips morph into a smirk, the ones he'd pass you before tests, an open challenge offered directly to you. “and if i don’t?”

and you mirror the same smirk back at him, you weren't going to back off simply because it's about the person you possibly have a crush on. “i become just a closed chapter of your life,” 

let the game begin. 

III. LIAR AND THE LOVER

despite heeseung’s sudden confession, you’re doing quite well, taking it better than expected. you had your moment of confusion back when the words of proposal fell off his lips— anyone would. after all, it’s lee heeseung we’re talking about. you can only imagine the saddened faces of his fangirls once they hear about him confessing to you.  

“jay told me you made a bet with heeseung?” hanbin’s question catches your attention as soon as he steps into the cafe, managing to turn a few heads towards you in the process. 

“you know jay?” 

he sits next to you, pulling out his laptop in a hurry. you can guess it’s because of his essay that’s due before six in the evening, one he could’ve written last night instead of getting wasted at his friend’s birthday gathering. “we share history, also, that’s not the answer to my question,” 

“it’s not a bet, ‘bin,” your words aren’t half wrong. “just a silly game, y’know? i didn’t even expect him to agree,” frankly, even you don’t know why or how you came up with such a bizarre idea in broad daylight. usually, people get bouts of excitement or embarrassment while confessing or being confessed to, but in your case, you jumped over the fence and made a proposal that you have only seen in fiction. 

“nah, no way you’re setting up your whole love life for failure and calling it a silly game,” the disappointment is evident in hanbin’s voice as his fingers danced over his keyboard, typing with a speed that could leave the trains behind. well, people tend to get like that when you have an assignment due and the deadline is just a few hours to go. you guess that he’s too busy to even listen to your reasoning, which is appreciated considering you have no reasoning as for why you did what you did. 

“you made a bet with heeseung,” you turn your head around, making the boy next to you do the same in the process. it’s miyeon— you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. your actions have consequences, as always, and one of them is dealing with her non-stop interrogation as if you’re the prime suspect for some gruesome crime and every question answered wrong opens gates to capital punishment. sometimes, you wonder why she didn’t go with studying law instead. 

“how do you know?”

“everyone knows, yn. it’s all they’ve been talking about,” she sighs, sitting opposite to you while taking a look at hanbin’s laptop. “even the football fanatics are talking about attending the game, god, hanbin we better hurry that day or we’re not getting a seat,” you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. miyeon might not be the most social person, but she definitely is the most updated. nothing escapes her, every tiny incident reaches her ears one way or another, and if not, then she just finds out about it using her sources, given you don’t know about her sources. it’s one of the reasons why you’re almost convinced that she runs a shady side business alongside her career in bioengineering. 

you take a sharp breath, going through the bunch of papers arranged in your file. “it’s not that serious. he confessed to me and i said i’d date him if he manages to secure the first position in the finals as well,” 

“you did that knowing he hasn’t been studying because of games while you’re studying like your life depends on it? there’s no way he’s going to be first, and everything aside, it was a wrong fucking move to play with his feelings,” play with his feelings— a pause, you don’t like how it sounds. you’re not playing with his feelings, that’s far from what you’re doing. it’s a game, a competition, new to your friends but you and heeseung have always been familiar with it. there’s an unspoken rule to test each other’s limits. the last time you and heeseung did something like this, it resulted with you writing ‘lee heeseung is smarter than ln yn,’ in bold on a sheet of paper and putting it on the notice board for the whole campus to see. in your eyes, it's history repeating itself yet again. sure, there is something else at stake, but the rules are the same, and you don’t know why your friends are acting like you’ve done something terribly unethical. 

“no one’s playing with his feelings, miyeon, and i know for a fact he’s making time to study for finals,” you clarify your side, slight annoyance evident in your voice. “besides, it doesn’t matter. it’s not like this is serious, i only did this to buy time to figure out my feelings while the game gives me a reason to study and not get distracted. you know how i get when i lose focus,” 

that could be the reasoning behind your actions, of course. even while sitting in a cafe with your friends and having a conversation that is about to make your blood boil, you’re thinking of heeseung in the back of your head. his words play over and over again like a broken record player, the image of him on court or studying pops up in your mind every now and then. obsession is a disease and you have it bad. it’s crazy to be thinking about someone so much without being absolutely floored for them. 

“so you’ll date him despite the outcome?” hanbin drags you out of the well of your thoughts, a question that leaves miyeon flabbergasted. 

“if i manage to figure out my feelings then of course,” a chuckle falls off your lips. “i’m telling you guys, it’s not that serious. i’m sure he knows it too,” and you’re really confident about this— it usually never ends on a good note. 

“and if he doesn’t? what if it’s serious for him? yn, you never know how one thing might affect someone, and feelings are not something to gamble on. you should’ve told him you need some time to think instead of giving him a false hope or whatsoever,” it’s now that you start having second thoughts. the next two hours go by amidst silence, a few small talks blooming here and there, but dissolving just as quickly within the ticking clock of deadlines for assignments and exams. 

it doesn’t take a scientist to know when miyeon is upset, for she isn’t the best at masking her emotions. through the sneaky glances at her that you’ve stolen over time, you can tell she’d rather spend the evening in silence than talk to you, which is a challenge with herself because she’s really talkative. it takes two to sing a duet, two to play and game, two people to make a relationship work. heeseung and you— the two of you are enough to make decisions for yourselves, decide what’s right and wrong and, something about miyeon questioning your choices doesn’t sit right with you. 

too many cooks spoil the broth, it’s the principle of your life, the words you’ve been following to this date. it was your decision to have a few friends instead of a fifty— quality over quantity, as one might call it— and there has never been a moment when you regretted having a handful of people to call friends. instead of consulting too many people about your major in university, you simply went with what your parents and homeroom teacher suggested. life has been good so far. the more the better is something that isn’t applicable in your case. instead of telling everyone about your dilemma regarding heeseung, you decided to keep it to yourself, eventually opening up to heeseung when the time comes. you’re doing just fine on your own, it doesn’t make sense to you why a third person’s opinion is making you doubt your decision making abilities that you’ve been so proud of. 

this is not a gamble, you tell yourself, it’s a fair play. you gave him options, he made the choice, it’s consensual. you didn’t force him into this game, he didn’t pressure you to respond, it’s a harmless competition that’s bound to have a positive outcome. you even spend a good fifteen minutes wondering if you should go back to heeseung and take it all back in case he finds it insensitive to put his feelings on the line. doing it in person seemed impossible so you resorted to texts, typing and deleting your message before giving up altogether. in your head, this was an okay decision. a sweet confession, a person with unsure feelings, a harmless competition. 

you hope it doesn’t backfire ten times worse. 

. 

. 

.

three days later, you find yourself on the way to basketball club rooms once again. you checked the court, it was empty, and your only option was to check the club slash locker rooms if you wanted to see heeseung. okay, first things first, you don’t miss him— maybe a little, but it’s because you miss hearing his weird ass answers in class even though they’re right. heeseung just has an unique approach to things, in other words he simply knows how to buy time and go in detail about things he’s an expert at to impress the professors. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case for him because he has approached you six times in the past three days, asking if you’re free to hangout. 

you like to think he misses you or that his requests were because he wanted to make sure you don’t study and lose to him, either could be true. knowing heeseung, he’s capable of going both ways. whatever may be the reason, you turned him down all six times, and it’s not because you have something against him— of course, you don’t. that’s common knowledge by now— your reason for not hanging out with him is studies, as expected of you honestly. the bet aside, you had way too many chapters to learn before exams and all heeseung ever does is take up your headspace everytime you sit down with your books spread open. avoiding him in thoughts wasn’t possible so avoiding him in person was your last straw. 

which leads to the present : you rushing to heeseung, again,  not because you miss him but because you need his help, though one of the reasons could be that you feel bad for turning him down six times. you can hear muffled laughter from a distance as you approach the club rooms, a bang against one of the lockers, a loud profanity that follows afterwards. their humour is beyond your level of understanding. 

“heese— oh, um—” you greet and turn away just as quickly when you realise that one of them is shirtless. it’s obviously heeseung, you can’t mistake his face for someone else. and you’re guessing he’s the last one to come out of shower because everyone else is dressed, maybe he’s someone who likes to take his time showering— you seriously need to stop thinking before your imagination goes bonkers. “sorry, can you come outside for a second when you’re ready?”

another round of laughter follows, more like teasing remarks because you can swear you heard a few of them refer to you as his girlfriend, and it gets you a little flustered, you won’t lie. you even hear one of them yell ‘ooh, get it, heeseung,’ as heeseung walks out, fixing his t-shirt, responding back with his middle finger up at whoever made the comment. 

“hi,” his voice isn’t much louder than a whisper, eyes fluttering between you, the floor, and his teammates who pretend to not look when you peek inside. there’s a soft smile on his face— it’s cute, you think, and then rethink what you just thought. heeseung is, well, not cute— usually. he’s good-looking, handsome, hot, sexy, even, since you’re on the topic of finding adverbs that suit heeseung. cute is rarely one of them, you don’t think you’ve seen him as flustered as he is right now— rubbing his nape, a tint of pink on his cheeks, avoiding eye-contact— that’s far from the heeseung you’ve been seeing for past two semesters. 

“hi, can you send me the pdf of the extra set of questions that prof sent last week? i think i accidentally deleted it while clearing up my storage,” you get straight to the point, trying not to waste much of your precious time. “i could’ve texted you but figured you’d be too busy with practice to check messages,” you remember what happened last time; he took six days to reply to your texts. you’re quite a patient person otherwise but in this case, you’re in dire need of questions to practise for tomorrow’s mock. 

“ah, sure, give me a minute,” and he pulls out his phone, scrolling through an ocean of files and documents to look for the one you need. you do think he’s gorgeous though, it’s a well known fact that he’s stunning, but you think this look of heeseung surpasses the other ones quite easily— hairs wet after shower, partially covering his forehead, a white t-shirt that’s slightly wet near the shoulders because of the water dripping down— you wish he’d at least dry his hair before catching a cold. “actually, i would have replied to your texts if you had— oh, yes, there you go. do you want me to email it to you or…?”

“oh, just texts would be fine, thank you,” 

“done,” a pause, you feel his eyes on you as you go through the pdf to take a brief look at the contents. “do you want to go for a walk? or are you getting back to studies?” at this point, you’re sure that question is a way to tease you about your obsession with studies. heeseung may think you’re overdoing it because you want to win, but it’s no more than the normal amount of hours you spend studying. he never paid you any attention to care about that. 

“no, i’m done for today, actually,” and that’s a big fat lie considering you were planning to solve some questions and revise two chapters before leaving the campus, but it’s fine. you feel bad for rejecting him six times either way. 

never in your life did you imagine that you’d be going on a walk with heeseung. it’s nothing serious, you just didn’t think there would be a day where you two would have normal people conversation while doing normal people activities instead of trying to disparage each other based on grades and academic performances. to think about it now, heeseung isn’t half bad, it was all in your head. it’s not like you had vile assumptions about him, you did find him annoying and way too prideful— anyone like him would be, actually, and heeseung is still quite humble about his achievements because if it was someone else, they sure would have made it everyone’s problem. 

actually, heeseung is insufferable as well. you remember your first encounter with him, first and so far, the worst— in the laboratory. you and heeseung sat next to each other and when the professor asked him to briefly explain his experiment, you realised it’s oddly similar to yours. you had accused him of cheating, like any sane person would, which led to him getting two scores less than a perfect. he only lost one score because of you, actually, and that too because you were professor’s favourite and heeseung was new to the department. the other score, you don’t know where he missed, but that incident led to heeseung deleting your powerpoint thirty minutes before your presentation, which led you stealing his notes and selling it some junior through an undercover twitter account, which led to the professor asking you to help him with notes before exams, and everything ultimately led to the realisation that heeseung is actually quite decent if you behave with decency as well. the give and take is serious for him, because he gave you notes and so, you had to take his offer of going on a walk. even though it seemed like you had a choice, a part of you knew it was a mirage. you would’ve ended up on a walk with heeseung one way or another. 

“i come here whenever i’m tired or just not feeling well,” he says and you wake up from your daydream of memories you shared with heeseung. the way he phrases his words makes it sound like he has brought you to one of his most secret locations, one that no one knows except taehyun, probably, considering they’re close friends, but in reality, it’s the playground you pass by every single day on your way from your apartment to university. 

“oh, are you okay? are you nervous for tomorrow’s match?” you continue, deciding you shouldn’t ruin his favourite place for him. honestly, no one would’ve guessed that lee heeseung would come to a children’s park on bad days. 

“actually, this walk was for you, you looked like you’d pass out if you spent another hour in front of books,” and you’re done, standing speechless with your eyes wide open at his words that he says with a victorious smile on his face. “you should start taking breaks, yn. it’s not a bad thing to go home earlier when you’re tired,” 

he’s right, oh, you know he’s absolutely right about everything he just said, from passing out to going home. a part of him probably even feels glad to have you out on his little walk with him, you’re getting your well deserved rest, thanks to him. heeseung might even ask if he can walk you home considering you’re ‘done for today,’ which is very thoughtful of him— but what does this make you? a liar? miyeon was right, you’re gambling, even though it’s not that serious. so far, you’ve lied about being done with your studies and the bet you made with heeseung because at this point, it’s more like a prank, except it’s not funny and that it might end up with him getting upset with you because tomorrow is basketball tournament’s finals and you’re here wasting his time, all because you lied. 

a liar and a lover, on a date at children’s park— match made in theatre club, you’d say. 

“are you sure this is not your way to manipulate into not studying and losing to you, just so you can date me?” you try to play it cool, knowing very well that it can be one of his tricks or whatsoever. after all, it’s the same heeseung who made you trip in front of your class just three days after being transferred. 

“i was being genuine but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” of course, it doesn’t. he gets to win, after all. “can i walk you home?” just as you had guessed. 

“i would love to go home but my bag is still in the library,” you had considered taking it with you, actually, but dismissed the thought once you realised you had to come back to the library and continue with your studies. albeit, you’re not studying, that’s on you for lying into oblivion and giving into his requests.  

once again, you two are back to walking, this time back to the university campus. it’s nice, having a walk with heeseung, it’s sweet, slow, comforting, like slow music flowing around and engulfing you in its arms. the unsaid words are weighing on your shoulders, you can feel the pressure, but it’s not awkward. above the busy hustle of the city and blaring horns, it’s a quiet world with heeseung, it’s nice, like a warm hug after a long day. you didn’t think you had it in yourself to spend a minute next to him without overthinking and possibly starting a banter. you didn’t think heeseung had it in him either, to make a walk feel so close to home.  

“so, how are you coping knowing you’re going to lose once again?” and, it’s back again. everything is a hoax actually— his looks? a trap. his smile? a trap. it’s all a facade because once he opens his mouth, nothing but horseshit comes out of it. 

“very well, in fact, because i know i’m the one getting that first spot this time,” call it overconfidence but you really do think you’ll get your title back this time. you’ve been studying well and hard enough, solving questions and going through every extra set of notes and exercises your professor sent. although, you would claim to beat heeseung had you been prepared or not because it’s fun messing with him. 

“i’d rather have you show some mercy, in that case,” before you know it, you’re already standing in front of the library. “academic defeat and a heartbreak, it already sounds painful. i hope you go easy on me,” it’s sarcastic, of course, all these saccharine words of confessions made you forget how he is under the layers of smiles and winks that adorn his face. a session full of silence follows, the comforting tranquillity morphing into something tensed as he steps closer, your breath getting caught up in your throat as your mind dysfunctions— it’s the effect he has. 

“heeseung,” you put a finger on his lips— the only thing between him and you, the only thing helping you stay sane and composed at the moment, because only you know the struggle of pulling yourself together while standing inches away from heeseung as he grabs your wrist and plants a soft kiss on your finger before removing it from his lips. 

“why, that’s unfair. you get to see me anytime you want while i have to wait because you’re busy studying, you even get to see me shirtless, and i can’t even get a kiss?” and you hate the look in his eyes, you hate how close he is standing and how it makes your heart go crazy. this isn’t even the beginning and you hate how you feel like you’ve already lost, and you hate how confident he is with every breath he breathes against your lips. “just kidding, see you tomorrow,” 

and you hate how this is where you realise that you’ve fallen deep, and you’ve fallen hard. 

IV. PLANET TO A SUN

heeseung has been thinking about the walk for an hour and twenty-seven minutes— actually more, ever since the moment he got home last night, but that is how long he has been practising for, eyes on the ball but mind revolving around you like a planet to a sun. you had texted him about a rule this morning— no kissing before finals. actually no kissing before we start dating, lee— your exact words. they have been holding him back from thinking straight, even made him practise an apology while looking in the mirror if in case his actions offended you in any way. lost in thought, heeseung manages to get another shot in. that’s twenty-third in a row ever since he stepped on the court, which is unbelievable, even for him. 

“is it just me or did heeseung’s performance improve overnight?” jake looks up at jay, fastening his shoelace, a chuckle escaping his lips that goes unnoticed. 

the latter offers a hand to jake, helping him stand as they share a laugh before jay passes him the ball. “well, of course it will. he has to impress his girlfriend today at finals,”

“she’s not my girlfriend,” heeseung grunts almost as if hearing you and the word girlfriend in the same sentences cuts ten years from his lifespan. he knows it doesn’t, he’d kill to call you his’. the reason behind his edgy behaviour is your text and the weird rule you’ve inserted in an already weird bet— it’s not like he minds it, the bet, obviously. heeseung definitely minds not getting to kiss you for the next few weeks. 

“yet,” jay clarifies, emphasising enough for the world to understand that his words are supposed to be in italics. “she will be if you score more than her in finals, which i don’t think is possible because unlike you, she has been studying all day everyday. i don’t know how she’s still alive,” and jay isn’t half bad student himself. juniors in business have his name residing on the tips of their tongues. he simply thinks you’re a freak for being in no clubs and not participating in anything that doesn’t involve studying. 

“she’s the top student for a reason,” jake adds. 

“i am the top student,” and hearing his friends call you the top students hurts heeseung’s ego a little bit. crushes aside, you’re his rival before his girlfriend, and you’re not even his girlfriend. you’re basically just a rival. “also, it’s not hard to study all day if you’re used to it,” 

and jay scoffs in disbelief. “right, you would know something about it, lee i can’t go a day without playing basketball heeseung,” 

“hey, everyone,” your voice reverberating in the court is what stops heeseung from responding to jay with a snarky remark. “just wanted to wish you all goodluck. i really hope you guys win the tournament or else, it’s going to be hard for heeseung to deal with two loses after i beat him in finals as well,” 

heeseung rolls his eyes in disbelief, you hear taehyun exclaim that he has been team yn since the very first day, a claim that few others proceed to back up, especially sunghoon, with his own lore of how he prays everyday for you to win the bet with heeseung. you’re honoured to receive such support, to some extent. a part of you still wishes for the whole thing to be a secret restricted to just heeseung and you but again, it was your fault for placing bets in court, in front of the entirety of the basketball team to witness, even their coach. 

“you’re a little too confident, don’t you think so?” he smirks, taking a few steps towards you with the ball supported between his arms and torso. “let me know where you’d like to go for our first date,” and it turns out heeseung is just as confident about winning the bet as you, perhaps even more. you are not surprised, being defending champions does that to people, or so you believe.

“mhm, let’s have you score a date first, lee,” you would have loved to talk more but decide to bid your goodbyes as soon as hanbin’s message pops up on your phone, the little scowl on heeseung’s face going unnoticed the moment he sees his name on your phone screen. heeseung would never in his wildest dream confess to being jealous— it doesn’t even make sense for him to be jealous of hanbin because he confessed to you, and you seem to like him back. his worries are pointless just like the useless art projects his art teacher used to assign in middle school. 

your fingers dance on the keyboard of your phone as you reply to hanbin, the subtle taps synchronous with your steps with you rushing across the quadrangle, taking the nearest flight of stairs to the library. you wanted to spend the day at your apartment since classes are suspended for the rest of the day on account of the match. however, hanbin managed to convince you into coming to the library to help him with a few assignments here and there. you’re not opposed to studying on days-off, in fact you think it’s better since you get all twenty-four hours to yourself instead of investing any of it in classes. the match gave you an excuse to call in for a break, or an excuse to take your time choosing the outfits as if you’re the main character on such a big day. 

the librarian gestures to you to slow down the moment you almost avoid slipping on the tiled floor, in the process of holding the door frame to stop yourself, an embarrassed apology makes its way from you to her as you spot hanbin in the further corner with his airpods plugged in. your first instinct is to scare him from behind but the thought leaves your mind as soon as you remember that you’re in a library, and getting kicked out on a day that has been treating you well so far doesn’t sound so smart. 

so, you settle with approaching normal, instead of pulling random stunts, pulling out the chair opposite to him quietly to not make any sounds, mumbling a soft ‘hi’ as he takes out one of his airpods. “where’s miyeon?” 

“sick, she’s skipping today’s match as well,” hanbin replies, eyes fixed on the notes he's copying from the laptop to loose sheets of paper, before looking up at you with another question on the tip of his tongue. “are you two still not talking?” 

“we did, none of us brought up what happened that day, though,” you shrug as if it doesn't bother you anymore, as if you don't want it to bother you more than it already does.

miyeon and you have known each other since university, she was a senior in undergrad course who was forced by financial circumstances to skip one academic year, thus rejoining in third year along with you and hanbin. seeing her was less frequent while she was still a senior, although you're not sure if you've spent more than three days away from her ever since postgrad school started. a heavy tension masks all your conversations with her, over texts or in person, and even though you're trying to act like the small talks with her don't hurt you, a part of you is starting to miss the best friend you used to talk to all night, about wasted matters and sharing useless gossip.

silence fills in for the lack of words between you and hanbin and you allow it to do so, deciding not to disturb the decorum of the library anymore. you scroll through your phone mindlessly, there’s nothing to look at except people going crazy about the evening's match. you even manage to stumble upon a thread of arguments featuring students of your university and the one the team is going against. it’s all empty threats, seriously, ‘kys’ and ‘ur mom’s in my bed’ aren’t even insults at this point. they’re funny, sometimes, but you’ll never understand why or how they ended up being insults. ( honestly, you don’t see the potential ) 

“are you serious about heeseung?” a crack in the ice, hanbin's question catches you off guard, with a number of questions running back and forth in your mind before you settle with the one to respond with in return.

you blink in confusion. “i guess so, why?” 

“nothing, it’s just i never expected it to be him, y’know, considering your history,” you think it's unavoidable, questions along these lines, they would've been asked sooner or later. truthfully, even you didn't expect yourself to fall for heeseung.

your history, what even is there to call history except blood and war? both you and heeseung have been up each other's neck from the moment your gazes collided. it sounds like a stupid beef between highschool students, almost embarrassing now that you both are nearing post graduation. with all the days that you’ve spent thinking about ways to get on his nerves, or worse— ruin his projects, it wasn’t just you who resorted to ruining each other’s hard work— no one would have known you and heeseung would ever end up on this note, with him chasing you and you pinning for him, all under the blankets of a silly bet.

“well, as i always say, hanbin, life is unpredictable,” there’s a smile dancing on your lips, a dazzling hint of factuality in your eyes. “besides, he’s a nice guy behind all the annoying things he does. i think he's pretty serious about me, or us, too,”

hanbin has noticed the way you smile at your phone. it doesn’t always happen, only when you’re talking with miyeon or a few friends from highschool, now heeseung ranks up on that list as well. he’d be lying if the uneasiness doesn’t bother him, it’s bound to surface when he remembers all the nights you spent complaining about heeseung. actually, the rant session included hanbin, you and miyeon, but she would rather go to sleep than listen to you complain like a child for hours on roll, leaving you and hanbin driving the conversation. he has lost count of the amount of times you’ve ended up crying in the process, or the amount of times he has hung up on you only to show up at your place late at night to make sure you’re doing okay, and the nights you two have spent watching movies and falling asleep on the couch, followed by the mornings gone by with miyeon being salty over the fact that none of you invited her to your impromptu nightover. 

the thought of heeseung confessing to you still surprises hanbin, it’s one of the things he deemed as impossible since forever. and he can go, warn heeseung about hurting you, dropping all sorts of threats at the boy. hanbin can go on for hours about how he would make heeseung’s life a living hell if he ever broke your heart. he can prove the righteous friend that he is, but at the end of day, he would always be the third person between you and heeseung. hanbin can only assume so much about you two, not even sure if all of it is right. he can only wish so much for you to have eyes for someone else. 

and so, all he does is shoot a smile at you. “i hope he is,” 

. 

. 

.

the only time you step out of the library is exactly three hours and thirty three minutes later, to sprint towards the basketball knowing that you absolutely cannot afford losing seats in the first two rows. fortunately, or unfortunately enough, you’re not the only student going crazy about the game. you can swear at least a dozen came out of the library right after you, even though all of them may not attend the game.

you’re already running late— well, still twenty minutes early but that doesn’t give you much time to meet the team and secure the front row seats. and meeting the team is an excuse, let’s be honest. you want to meet heeseung, have a quick private talk, kiss him good luck, you don’t know; you wouldn’t. your head is in a mess, behind you hanbin is yelling for you to slow down as you run down the stairs. half of you is worrying about seats and the other half is wording her sentences out for you to say when you meet heeseung, and the team. you can wish them all the luck in the world, after all, it’s the university team and you would love to see them win. the whole craze about sports doesn’t feel real and worth the hype but things start coming full circle when you’re the one watching. slowly, as one would expect, but you are starting to understand why everyone goes bonkers during tournament season. 

“damn, slow down,” hanbin huffs, grabbing your arm for you to slow down. “it’s not like they wouldn’t start without you,” 

“that’s the problem. what if they start without me?” but your legs wouldn’t rest before arriving at the court. you know your words sound funny, painting you as if the result of today’s match depends on you. it feels crazy to be this excited about a mere basketball match, nonetheless you know it’s not the match you’re actually looking forward to. “besides, i’m more worried about seats,” 

“i asked hao to save two for us. he’s friends with heeseung, i think he will do that much for his friend’s girlfriend or whatsoever,” you see him roll his eyes at his own words, proceeding to slide his hands into yours before continuing on your way to the venue, this time a little slower. 

you have heard about hao from hanbin and miyeon a few times. he’s pursuing a masters in music, wants to teach violin professionally according to hanbin. miyeon has even attended one of his recitals last autumn, something from sibelius, if you remember correctly. he is popular, and you see the depths of his popularity as soon as you spot him on the bleachers, surrounded by people left and right, one of them trying to grab a seat next to him before he points at you and hanbin, and the crowd goes mild, ultimately dissolves as the players step in. 

“i didn’t know heeseung had a girlfriend,” you don’t know what you were expecting, perhaps a few words of greetings, hi’s and hello’s since you two are meeting for the first time. anything, except that question. 

“believe me, i didn’t either,” and why even is heeseung going around telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend?        

the court breaks into cheers as soon as the game commences and yet, it feels a little quite. perhaps, it’s miyeon’s absence getting to you. had it been her next to you instead of hanbin and hao— who are busy amongst themselves by the way, talking about anything but the match— she would’ve been eating snacks non-stop, giving you a little talk on every player, like a resume. it’s take her fifteen minutes to give you summaries on players from each team, their achievements, girlfriends and probably even mothers, who knows. although, you haven’t attend many games with miyeon to pinpoint every good and bad thing about her impromptu presentation, her unofficial commentary helped you sit throughout the match. it feels incomplete without her, not just the game but days in general. it’s definitely her absence making your surroundings feel quieter. 

so, long story short, you don’t have a clue of what’s happening. well, you do, a little. you know what a dunk and a three pointer is besides the names of players on your university team, but that basically sums up your knowledge about basketball. all sorts of voices are mingling in the air but you’re busy following the ball around the court with your gaze, occasionally cursing and clapping when the team misses a close basket or scores a comparatively difficult basket. the tension between the two teams keeps rising as the game continues. you notice sunghoon groan in disappointment as one of the players from the opposite team gets in a banked shot from the wings, scoring two points for the team. a part of the crowd goes quieter at jay’s failed attempt to save the score for his team, beomgyu patting on jay’s back while muttering something along the lines of ‘good job.’ involuntarily, your eyes travel to heeseung, whose expression stiffens at the sight of the scoreboard displaying a two-point lag.

a time out call follows as the players move back to their respective ends, and it physically hurts you to see the difference in atmosphere between the two teams, or the frowns on the faces of players on your university team. for a second, you even consider walking down to them as they gather around the coach, grabbing water bottles and towels while nodding at the coach’s words between heavy breaths. you catch jake looking in your direction for a brief second, a smile makes its way to your lips before he responds with one as well, proceeding to nudge heeseung’s arm and pointing in your direction. his actions are left with no response— it hurts a little, although you are aware that anything else falls after winning the match on his priority list— and they get back on the court as the game resumes. 

“they need to catch up soon,” hanbin mutters, taking a look at the clock. and even if it’s just a two point difference, you’re starting to understand why it creates a huge gap. it’s almost like scores on a test. going from eighty-three to ninety then hundred is easier than going from ninety-eight to hundred. greater differences are easier to overcome; for you have so many rooms for improvisation and thus, so many chances at closing the gap. the closer you are to a perfect score, the narrower are the chances and it’s almost impossible to pin-point and work on every single weakness of yours within those two points. you’re pretty sure your words would hardly make sense to anyone else, but nonetheless you understand why everyone on the court looks more attentive, probably like meerkats on the lookout for preys and predators. 

much to your disappointment, the play continues with the rivals dominating the court, giving low to zero chances for the opposition to get their hands on the balls. you even see a few of them trying to provoke heeseung, the latter trying his best to not react but you’re afraid he would start throwing punches if another one of the players passed by him with his middle finger up heeseung’s face. one of them, who you assume is the captain judging from the way he has been directing his team, goes in for a hook, immediately getting blocked by taehyun as the court bursts into loud cheers once again. 

“that was a little too far for a hook,” hao comments, and you nod as if you understand his words and know exactly how a hook is supposed to be. you didn’t even know about a hook until now, and you’re still not sure what it is since all the shots look almost the same to you. 

from that second onwards, it felt as if the control transferred to heeseung’s teams as they transition quickly from defence to offence, making quick passes and running the court, practically catching the opposite team off guard. jay passes the ball to jake, who takes a leap from half court, driving towards the unguarded basket. a quick layup using the backboard, as you hear hanbin name the shot, and basically everyone runs to jake for scoring two points for the team as the scoreboards displays a sour tie. it’s a seemingly easy match after that, especially when the players look like they’re back into the game. sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung who goes for another layup and fails, much to his despair, before going in for a dunk and scoring yet another basket for the team, leading it by two points. you see him passing a cocky smirk at the player from before as jake pats him in the back with heeseung almost stumbling in the process. 

heeseung shoots you a wink before focusing on sunghoon’s words as they get back into position, and even amidst the butterflies you got by his recent actions, you don’t miss the way he stretches his fingers, ring-finger specifically, pointing something about the movements to jay before getting his focus back to the game; and you just hope it isn’t what you’re thinking it is. 

it’s a slow game after that, no points scored, four fouls with two of them back to back, one by each team respectively. the frustration increases on the court, evident in each step taken by the players, groans and sighs fill the atmosphere and get louder than the cheers that have gone quieter once again. it isn’t until a few minutes later that all the players run to the front court as soon as they see an opportunity for a fast break with taehyun taking the lead, passing the ball to jay just a few seconds after, who passes it to heeseung— and call it the lack of efficiency or bad timing, heeseung bumps into one of the players from opposite team, an uneven balance, and falls directly on his right knee, as one of the opposite players throws the ball off-bounds to stop the play. 

the medics take him to the benches, bringing ice packs and everything else before escorting him inside. you considered following him inside before hanbin tells you that the officials aren’t letting anyone meet him, probably until they receive updates of his situations. you bite the inside of your cheeks in nervousness, palms sweating as if you’re about to appear for an exam you weren’t informed about until five minutes ago, or maybe it’s even worse. the murmurs from the crowd or the group of girls behind you, to be more specific, do nothing but make you feel more anxious. zhang hao, being a sports medicine student, tries to give you an insight on heeseung’s injury, telling you that even if he fell directly on his knee and it could result in a patella fracture, or perhaps just dislocation— words that compel you to yell at him to shut up before he ensures that heeseung will be fine. hanbin does that for you, noticing your slightly panicked state, telling hao to talk about anything but anatomy of how badly a simple injury can affect a player, and when sunghoon and taehyun return to the officials with an update on heeseung and a pale face, you knew you had to run to your heeseung as if it’s the end of the world. 

“heeseung,” you breathe out, stepping aside to let the nurse from the infirmary leave before you walk closer to him. the awkwardness between you and other players, namely jay, jake and beomgyu, besides the coach, rings all the bells to remind you that coming here was probably a bad idea. well, of course, you like heeseung and are worried for him, but the tension in the air makes you feel like you showed up uninvited. “are you okay?” 

you ask nonetheless, voice close to a whisper, as you stand at a distance, looking at the bruise on his knee. the smell of antiseptic spray fills your lungs, nose scrunching at the way you could almost taste the diclofenac at the back of your mouth. 

“not really,” he inhales sharply, exhaling a reply once everyone left, knowing they had a game to get back to. “look at you, are you worried for me?”

“i’m regretting coming here now,” liar. and then you let the silence carry the conversation with itself for the next few minutes. you don’t know what to say— what can you say? all you do is sit next to him, hands brushing against his as his winces at the slightest touch. heeseung opened his mouth to say something before dismissing his words with a heavy sigh the very next moment. you almost hold his hand— almost, thinking of holding it ever so carefully as if it’s glass with thousands of cracks, and then you’d kiss it ever so delicately, you did it— almost, but then, it’s just you getting upset over the fact that he played even after hurting his hand.

“so, they’re benching you,” you say in an attempt to strike a conversation, a little conflicted with your choice of words, wondering if he even wants to hear about something related to the match at the moment. 

“of course,” he says it like a matter of fact, a fact whose impact doesn’t seem to touch him. “please tell me they have jeno substituting for me. i’ve barely been getting updates in the group chat,” the least he expected was for one of the substitute players to keep him updated about the game through texts, and heeseung planned to get back to the court until you showed up, taking a seat next to him on the benches in the locker room. you don’t understand why they didn’t take him to the infirmary, and decided to think it’s because locker rooms are closer and if there’s anything heeseung should not be doing right now, it’s moving his injured leg. 

you shrug. “i don’t know, i’ll ask hanbin,”

“thanks,” and even though heeseung isn’t really fond of your friend for reasons that are widely known, at least amidst his friend group, he really hopes hanbin is of some use. 

it’s quiet now. you can hear faint cheers buried in the layers of walls and rooms that stand between the court and the locker room, a few muffled footsteps filling up any spaces left in the air, here and there. you assume it’s his fans trying to check up on him, as annoying as it sounds to you for you’d rather have this moment with him all to yourself. you hear him sigh heavily once every few minutes, trying to ball his injured fingers up in a fist to allow the slightest of moments and ensure healthy circulation, a soft hiss leaving his lips at the sensation of striking pain shooting up his nerves. unlike heeseung, your attention shifts to his injured knee with a faint chill running down your spine as you look at his bruise, which now looks more bluish than it was when you had arrived, signifying the possibly alarming amount of blood that has now clotted in the tissues. 

“you can cry,” nudge him with your shoulders and heeseung directs you to the most disgusted face in return. “what? it’s the finals and you’re injured so you won’t be able to play today. any normal person would sob their eyes out,” 

“i’m not a kid, yn,” he nudges back, a chuckle slipping off his lips. 

“trying to act all cool but you’re probably going to cry yourself to sleep for days, or even weeks,” he holds out his hand for you to hold it as you stand up, an action you give into without opposition, intertwining your fingers with his. there’s a smug smile on your face and he sees it as well, although only you know the way your heart is somersaulting at the way your hands fit his’ like pieces of a puzzle. “i know what you are, heeseung,”

he scoffs at your words, hands still entwined, a lovesick glow in his eyes— it’s your first time seeing this side of him, you’re glad to be one of the people to see it. silence has never felt so comfortable to you. the distant noise from court feels like it rushed on its way to you and heeseung, and stopped at the doors, as if you two are beyond its reach. you might never say it to him, but everything seemingly ceases to exist when you’re with him, and the world feels timeless. it’s embarrassing, cringe, and it’s making your heart beat faster with the way he looks at you. “you need to shut up,”

“make me?” a quick response, one that was supposed to be a joke, a joke which was supposed to be accompanied by laughter and brushed off as another baseless comment, but another second passes as you continue to look into his eyes, and you realise you’re actually considering it— leaning in towards him while giving his hand a light tug to pull him towards you the slightest, your other hand cupping his face as your gaze ghosts up his eyes and settles on his lips. when it comes to him, rationality is out of the window and your lips are on his’ planting the softest kiss at the corner of his mouth before pulling away like nothing ever happened.  

a pause; you could hear the silence ringing in your years, eyes fixed over him as if you’re spilling all your secrets to him, waiting for him to take a hint. “what even happened to the ‘no kissing before finals’ rule?’”

and you realise you had actually forgotten about it, for better and never for the worse, because as you said and as he repeated, it’s all about timing. empty locker rooms, quiet hallways with not a soul around, your hand in his, his eyes on you— the timing couldn’t be better, and you know better than messing up and letting heeseung become just a closed chapter of your life. “yeah, i could care less about that,”

there are a lot of things you could care less about, like the cold metal that stings against your back as he pushes you against the lockers, or the fact that anyone could walk in, any minute; you don’t care, don’t know. his lips are on yours and his hands are on your waist, it feels euphoric the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. heeseung tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together. it’s intoxicating and is making you go insane, the way he manages to sweep you off your feet with the smallest of actions and simplest of words— from the very first day. 

heeseung was right, and you as well, it’s all about timing. from the day you first looked at him in a seminar, to the day he switched to biotech— you plan on asking him why because so far, all your guesses seem implausible— down to the day he confessed, leading up to this moment with you pressing against the lockers and his lips against against yours. heeseung sighs softly, cupping your cheeks and tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips when you pull away just when it was about to get better, avoiding his lips when he leans in to chase yours barely a millisecond later. your eyes shift down to his hand, one that has been injured during the game, and you proceed to hold it carefully, brushing your lips over the bruise lightly before adorning it with feathery kisses as his other hand travels down to your waist once again, pulling you closer. “you should go easy on yourself,”

you whisper the exact same words he had told you a day ago, traversing your eyes back towards him while your gazes have a conversation so foreign, as if it’s only for the silence to understand. and it’s quite literally just the two of you basking in silence as he rests his head against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses here and there before pulling you even closer, as if you were going to disappear any second. “i think, i’m in love with you,” 

and timing be damned— because heeseung confesses to you once again, and then he’s kissing you once again, slowly, sweetly, in love, and timing doesn’t even matter because every second feels right with him. with the same air of delighted indifference he comes to know well in the gleam of your touch and the curl of your lips, you simply kiss him back as if to say, hate to admit, but i’m in love with you too. and timing really be damned because you hear loud rounds of cheers as you feel his shoulders stiffen. a slight disconnection between you and heeseung makes you wonder if he’s thinking about the results of the game, which is inevitable, but this is about you and him, and nothing else. you hear the notifications from his phone go off, hinting that the match is probably over, and you pull him into another kiss, another round of selfishness guised as an outlet for him to forget about the game, another round of messy make outs, tasting the freedom of ignorance. 

and then you don’t hear from heeseung again.  

V. OBJECT OF ALL DESIRES

days without heeseung feel like they’re forty-eight hours long.

you think it’s a disease or some sort of withdrawal syndrome. this isn’t your first time without him, in fact, you used to do just fine without him in your life until you let him in. at this point, it isn’t even about not being able to see him— heeseung has been absent for almost seven days. you even asked jay about him to see if he has been in contact with any of his teammates but much to your disappointment, he disappeared off the face of earth like he never existed. taehyun has constantly been reminding you to not fret too much, knowing that heeseung gets a little dramatic after losing matches. you can take his word, obviously, a friend from highschool would know heeseung better than a girl who started talking to him normally barely weeks ago, although you couldn’t help but worry about him as seconds passed like water dripping down the tap, disturbing the silence. 

you know how losses feel— like a part of you has been taken out and you’re left to bleed. it’s worse when it’s about something you’ve loved all your life. you’ve walked next to losses, hand in hand. when you know you’ve lost something while having it in the palms of your hands the whole time, the feeling eats you inside. you wonder if heeseung is feeling the same way you think he is, even if he didn’t show it a week ago when you had met him in the clubroom, the feeling starts to sink in when you’re alone amidst the ghosts of nobodies. even though he was smiling and acting like the little shit he is, you felt anger and regret in the way he kissed you. there was a sense of numbness dripping down his fingertips in the way they brushed against your cheeks, cupping your face. you could’ve been a sweet escape— it hurts to admit that the emotions weren’t possibly real, but you couldn’t blame him. 

losing a match, to put it in your words, meant failing in a test; and losing because of an injury, it’s like skipping a test you prepared for, because of fever. except tests can be rescheduled for students who missed— a luxury heeseung, as a basketball player, cannot enjoy. even you couldn’t believe your eyes when the students on the forum started talking about the lost match, all sorts of comments going around, though none targeted at heeseung, fortunately. yet, your first instinct was to dial his number— out of reach, the first thing you hear on the other side of the line, and all you’ve been hearing for days now. 

you had considered cutting ties with him, not literally, but as in stopping to chase him as if he’s the oxygen you inspire. you could’ve showed up at miyeon’s place with apologies, her favourite snacks and a brief explanation of why you did what you did, and everything that has happened as the consequences of your own actions. with weekends approaching, you could’ve planned a two-day trip with her and hanbin before the winter snow made it hard to commute— just anything to get your mind off heeseung, since apparently, you weren’t on his mind either. albeit, you end up doing nothing, no trips, no plans to see miyeon, it’s just you and your bruised heart with soju on the side. your mind is way too cluttered with thoughts about heeseung to focus on studying and at the same time, it’s way too empty to try doing anything else.  

so, you simply venture down the hallways, drowning in all kinds of thoughts, good and bad. you can use the time to study but concentration has been far out of your reach ever since the match, or ever since he went underground, to be more specific. the impromptu make out session was probably his last straw— it makes sense. you kissed someone who had been walked out of a match because of an injury instead of consoling them. you let your feelings get the best of you, making everything about yourself yet again. you won’t be surprised if heeseung decides to ghost you for the rest of his life after that; or maybe, that’s not possible since you see a familiar figure sitting in the outdoor basketball court, spinning the ball with it’s axis on the ground in a directionless manner. 

“heeseung?” you notice his back tense at the sound of you calling his name, head down low as if he’s responding with an exasperated sigh. “where the hell have you been? i’ve been trying to reach you— heck, even your friends haven’t heard a word from you in days,”

“not now, yn, leave me alone,” and an exasperated sigh is what it was. 

“look, i know—”

“just, what part of leaving me alone do you not understand?” you try to speak but heeseung cuts you off just as efficiently as he does other things, with annoyance heavily evident in his words. had it not been heeseung, you would’ve left already, for you have more important things to tend to, and you’re certainly not interested in matters you’re not supposed to be included in, if only it wasn’t heeseung, and if only you weren’t crazily worried for him. 

“oh, i understand it clearly, every part, actually, and i also understand that you’re upset and leaving you alone would certainly not be the best move considering the way you went MIA for a week,” and you understand his impulses about disappearing into thin air, wishing the ground eats him up or for the walls to cave in till he’s entombed in them, but a person as smart as him should know taking out helps better than thinking about wanting to vanish. “we can sit and have a talk if you stop being such an asshole about it. i’m down to listen to—”

“fine, what do you want to hear about?” he cuts you off in annoyances, the ball rolls down to a distance like your heart when you see the unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. “you were right. i went home and have been crying myself to sleep. i haven’t been eating well either. i skipped five out of nine mocks and barely passed the four i gave, let’s add that too. is that enough?” 

you don’t like the way he puts it, as if it’s supposed to make you feel better. maybe about the bet, maybe, since he’s supposed to rank above you in finals to get around dating you, and maybe watching him lose is supposed to offer you some sort of relief— seriously, what you’re feeling right now is far from that. guilt, anger, shame, you’re not unfamiliar with those emotions. they eat you inside and it’s not because you’ve met with defeat, it’s because of falling off all the expectations people had, giving them another reason to point fingers and laugh. you could be really over-reacting, but if you didn’t have your parents telling you it’s going to be fine every time you didn’t do well on tests, you don’t know where you would’ve been right now. and you think you can play a part of the same for heeseung, if not all. 

you sit next to him, nose scrunching at the sight of dust on the cement laid with cracks. that’s what you get with an outdoor court no longer in use. you can see little plantlets germinating from the soil, emerging through the cracks, the rusted ring catches your eye. heeseung huffs as you settle next to him, wondering exactly how long the court has been unused for, considering its lack of maintenance. “let’s date,” 

and your words are not what you were planning to say or what should be said in this situation, but they still manage to extract a response from him. “don’t play with me,” 

“i’m not, in fact, that is what i’ve been wanting to say to you for days. of course, this isn’t the best timing, but i don’t know what else to say,” you pause in what feels like embarrassment. too bad, his crush is not good at conversations. sometimes you end up nodding and blinking for five minutes straight before saying anything, after a person opens up to you with tears and blood. “and, i’m not going to tell you to stop acting like a child or whatever because the team lost such an important match and somewhere, you’re blaming yourself for it, which you shouldn’t, by the way. all i need to say is that you still have the next year to make up for what you’ve lost now,” 

second chances come with higher expectations from people along with words that end up making one feel worse about their situation. you’ve already heard a few students talk about how heeseung should’ve been more ‘careful’— as if it was his choice to get injured and lose the match. you know it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with his injury that probably requires him out of the court for weeks, but you hope that amidst whatever he’s feeling, between self-loath and regret, heeseung manages to find himself once again. 

“actually, i’m planning to drop out of the team next year and focus on studies. my parents were already against me playing basketball during postgrad, i’m finally starting to notice why,” basketball could’ve been his entire career if heeseung’s grandmother had not wished for him to go into the medical field. seeing the insides of a person makes him want to empty his bowel from the mouth so biotechnology was his next option. heeseung thought having two hands would give him the benefit of managing basketball and academics together, unlike how his parents had wished for, but his recent mock scores and lack of time devoted to studies is making him question his choices. “and what the hell were you on about dating, by the way?” 

you’re half immersed in your own thoughts until heeseung directs the question at you— brows furrowed, confusion shadowing his face— you realise it’s your turn to do the talking. “oh, you know, dating. i think we should start dating already, it’s quite inevitable after that day in the clubroom,” 

it is evitable, really, but you’re down bad— with all due respect. 

you haven’t been okay ever since you realised that you like heeseung, and you’ve been trying to act normal about it, attempting to not lose your cool-hard-to-get-girl composure— miyeon’s words, and they make you cringe— while the thought of him is eating your brain slowly and gradually, making you go insane. if you were to narrate from where you opened and closed the door at, it would be a slippery slope, you don’t know how someone ends up falling for the person they despise. the yn from a month or two ago would be knowing, you can see her shrugging and getting back to her books, saying see saw it coming. ( it’s miyeon’s fault for making you even think about having a mind blowing chemistry with heeseung ) the you from two semesters ago, when he first transferred, would hate you and call you a traitor, might even write whore on a mirror while looking at it because you fold at the sight of hot, smart and sporty men who are perfect at everything, even at ruining someone’s life, like he’s ruining yours; and the yn from highschool, you see her squealing on the floor because oh, what a fan of enemies to lovers she was— heeseung wouldn’t even have been in the current picture if your highschool crush slash rival liked you back. the current you, well, she’s a goner, and in denial that she’s a goner. too much pride does something to a person, especially when you’re an over-scorer and an academic weapon. you’ve lost all your abilities of letting your guard down even once, refusing to give up and accept defeat, no matter how tortuous it is on the inside. 

the current you is more like a victorian man looking at ankles for the very first time. 

“and the bet? what happened to it?” he chuckles, of course, anyone would, considering the way you’ve lost after placing the bet with utmost confidence slash overconfidence. see, it never ends well, anything, with overconfidence, it doesn’t end well, never have and never will. and you, you don’t learn, sitting with the very well known fact that if you were given the chance, you would place the bet with him again.  

“ah, i didn’t mean to do that, honestly. i was confused when you confessed, it was so sudden, i didn’t know how to respond. the bet was the best i could come up with,” miyeon was right, you could’ve used something along the lines of ‘i need some time,’ that day instead of pulling out a bet right out of your ass, and now you don’t know how to save face. at least the fact that heeseung confessed first makes you feel a little better about yourself. “c’mon, i know you love challenges. i was just trying to see if it gets you turned on or something,” 

and heeseung scoffs in disbelief, eyeing you at your choice of words. “yeah, i feel very turned on knowing my crush dragged me into a bet that i’ve been working so hard for and she wasn’t even serious about it,” 

“working hard? from what i saw, the only thing you worked hard for was basketball,” you raise your brows, a taunting intonation in your voice. a part of you regrets the choice of words, knowing that basketball is seemingly quite a sensitive topic to bring up at the moment. albeit, the slight fear evaporates off when he laughs and dismisses your words and nothings. 

he leans a little closer, hands touching yours. “you never know what i’m up to at home,” 

a pause; you look in his eyes and then at his lips, he mirrors your actions with a smirk on his face. you guess that there’s a second meaning to his words, not sure what, but the look in his eyes tells you something about it. “i think we should get back to when you were talking mental and i was talking you down,” 

and you could grab his face and kiss him with no one around, on the unmaintained basketball court for the grey and cloudy skies to see. you could run your hands through his hairs and tell him how crazy he makes you while planting kisses down his neck. you can kiss him till both of your lungs are begging for oxygen, and that's when you'd tell him how he makes you feel— breathless and drowning, a little insane every time you see him flirting with someone that's not you. you can kiss him till the sun goes down and evening takes over, it doesn't matter if you're outside for the world to see. you would've kissed him if heeseung hadn't leaned back, looking at the ball lying stray at a distance.

“by the way, i’d love to date you,” he smiles at the infinite horizon before looking at you, as if waiting for a response already known.

“yeah, i figured that,” you try to play it cool as if you’re all knowing. it’s partially true, he did confess to you first. “let’s make another bet: no kissing before finals, and the one who ends up giving in first has to buy dinner,” you come up with yet another bet, your voice hinting the enthusiasm for no apparent reason.  

heeseung squints at you, a little conflicted, quite unsure of your words. it sounds like a moment of deja vu, hopefully on a better note this time ‘round. “that’s not even valid, we made out not even a week ago,” 

“let bygones be bygones, hee,” he likes the sound of the little nickname you've given him, unlike bygones, the word you use to refer to your very first kiss with him as if it's an unfortunate memory. “it’s decided then, no kissing before finals and the loser has to buy dinner, and i won’t be satisfied with anything less than a five star meal,” 

you squint, index finger pointing at him, a challenging composure. another chuckle from him makes it’s way to you, lips curling into a faint smile. it takes you all the way back to the day you placed your first bet with him, with head empty and no logic, for the entirety of the basketball team to see, hear, and talk about it as if it’s supposed to be on the headlines of the national newspaper. your eyes spark up in anticipation, wondering if the two of you are down for another bet, one that doesn’t proceed towards failure, hopefully.

“the last time you did something like this, you ended up running back to me and asking me to date you,” he scoffs softly, side-eyeing you with a mocking gaze, quite ready to pull out the receipts if you ever deny his words. you hate how correct he is, all the time, actually, and you hate how you don’t have words to argue back.

lee heeseung, a nobody to you till he switched to your department, just some student who was there to pass time until he started ranking above you on tests and flipped your whole world upside down. you tried to not think about him and failed every time— still beats you why. you’ve never let distractions get the best of you, but heeseung, perhaps he’s more than just a distraction, or maybe he isn’t a distraction at all. he’s like a plant in your garden that you could care less about— should care less about, it’s growing without harming your plants, but it’s creeping against a wall with pretty flowers for show, and before you know it, it’s demanding for all your attention that you offer without second thoughts, unwillingly at first. 

he’s the bane of your existence and object of all your desires, to put it simply and make it sound cliché. you’ve had your moments trying to run away from him, get him out of your head, annoy him to the point he’d prefer flying to the other side of the globe, or that could be you too, anywhere, far from him. but life, for the thousandth time, is unpredictable. when was the last time something worked out exactly how you had planned— can’t remember, obviously, just like the way you don’t remember when heeseung started occupying a corner of your brain, popping in and out at random times and disrupting your thought process. the more you tried to ignore him, the further he housed in your head, the deeper in your heart, closer, within your reach, as if for you to grab his hands and let him enter your side of the world. 

and so, you kiss him again, pulling him towards you with the collars of his jacket. you feel him smile, a triumphant smile, as expected from someone who is used to winning. you don't think you can say you've lost, not at the way he cups your cheeks and tilts his head to deepen the kiss just moments before you pull away. “i always run back to you, don’t i?” 

and you're a child infatuated with their favourite sport, a painter falling in love with strokes, a pianist dancing to the melody of rachmaninoff, a student addicted to getting a perfect score, a player addicted to winning. you trace back to things you like, you always run back to heeseung,

and you always would. 

TEN MINUTES LATER :

heeseung plants a soft peck on your lips. “dinner’s on you,” 

“fuck!” 

#—approved. #@ : fas. #k-labels #kflixnet #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #heeseung x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x y/n

[talaok]

hi bestie, I've been thinking about your incredible writing and I thought of something, if it's okay for you, it would be an interesting fic, thank you very much for the dedication and love you put into your works, they are perfect.

We always see fic scenarios out there where Pedro is insecure about the age difference, exposure and privacy, but what about a totally different scenario where Pedro tries to convince the reader that none of that really matters because they are in love? and that they will be able to get through this? (In this case, I don't think the reader would have a problem with the age gap, but she would like to have a "normal" relationship and not one where they can't hold hands, kiss or be seen together because of the paparazzi...

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

warnings: angst

a/n: thank you soso much love💖, and im sorry if this isn't exactly what you had pictured

it's stupid how you got here.

How you ended up sobbing on the couch as your boyfriend tried to understand what was going on.

It was just a stupid couple, a stupid couple kissing on the subway... in public.

And all you could think about as you came home was how unfair it was, that you and Pedro couldn't do that, that you had to hide your relationship in the confines of your apartment, that you couldn't kiss, hold hands, or hug him in the street like you longed for.

it made you think, but it also did something else, it made you realize.

It made you realize just how tired you were, just how exhausting having to pretend like you didn't love someone more than life was, and to have to watch that person, the man who's the object of said love, pretend the same thing.

It was exhausting, and you were exhausted, and as much as you loved him, you'd started to realize that maybe you couldn't, that maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

"sweetheart..." he murmured, softly caressing your right arm, as you hid your face in your own hands "What are you saying?"

You'd only half explained yourself before the tears started, so he hadn't understood completely, he had gotten a part- and he didn't like what he got, it was destroying him actually, but he still had hope... maybe he had simply misinterpreted it all.

"I-I'm saying" you sniffled, peeking up at him, "I'm saying that I don't know if I can do this anymore"

"What?" he breathed, his heart breaking into a million pieces with a simple sentence "Y-you can't do what?" he asked

Hope, hope, he needed to have hope.

This couldn't be it.

No, not like this, not now- fuck, not ever.

"this- us" you explained, tears falling from your eyes without a break "The hiding, the secrecy, not being able to kiss you whenever I want to, I-"

No.

He couldn't give up

"then let's tell everyone!" he begged, taking your hands in his, ignoring the void in his stomach, the sickness in his throat "we-we can do that, we could just-"

"you know I can't" you stopped him "My career is still at the beginning, if this got out it would destroy my image, they'd start saying that I'm with you for the fame and then no one would hire me anymore"

"but you're not" he murmured "You're not like that"

"I know" you shrugged "but how would they?"

"I-I'll tell them" He spoke, trying to sound more confident than he felt "I'll tell everyone how much I love you, how important you are for me, how amazing you are, I'll-"

it was your turn to beg now

"stop" a sob crept up your throat "stop, I just- I can't"

"Sugar, please" he whispered "I love you" he promised " I love you so fucking much, and I can't lose you- not like this, I just can't"

Your eyes were focused on where your hands were intertwining, not able to meet his gaze.

Guilt was eating at you from within, filling up your lungs with smoke until you couldn't breathe.

"I know you do" you spoke, your voice a faint thread "And I love you too, but that's not what this is about, it's about how exhausting this is- I mean, don't you feel it too, aren't you tired too?"

Your eyes were melting with his now

"yeah I am" he nodded "but if it's what I need to do to be with you, then I gladly do it. I'd do anything for you sweetheart- I'd jump off a bridge if you asked me to"

A soft, silly smile pulled unconsciously at your lips.

And he saw it as a victory, a small one, but still something, a crack he'd created.

"Please sugar" he squeezed your hands "Please don't do this, I'm begging you."

"I love you. I love you more than anything, more than myself, more than life itself, so please, for the love of god, don't do this"

"Baby I-"

"Please-" his eyes were shimmering "we'll get through this, we'll find a way"

"what way?"

"I-I don't know yet" he admitted, his voice lower "but what I do know it's that I can't lose you, not over something like this, and that I'm gonna work my ass off to find a solution"

"yeah?" a snort bubbled from your nose

"yeah" he smiled, leaning closer so his hot breath was fanning over your mouth "So what do you say," he asked, "you trust me?"

And at that, you couldn't help but smile

"I do," you said "I trust you"

#oh oh shes writing dramatic shit again #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x gn reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #dad!pedro pascal #fluff #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal snl #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fanfic #the last of us #narcos #pedro pascal fandom

[octoberclidan]

This isn't You

Request: I've got this Supernatural idea for some time now and I guess I thought today would be the day ne being brave and sending you a request. I hope you doing fine. I love your stories so much and most of them I read already more than once=) so, sorry in advance, cause I'm a huuuge simp for drama, angst and hurt im case there will be a happy ending :D

Sam and female reader are in a relationship (don't know if I see the reader as a hunter or if she only helps them out with the research). After a hunt, Sam behaves weird towards his girlfriend, but that only when they're alone. In front of Dean Sam is the normal towards her. But when they're alone, it starts with him being distant. And gets worse when he's rude to her, shoving her out of the way etc. She talks to Dean about it, but he can't really belive it, cause he doesn't notice a change in his brother. Bit by bit she gets afraid of Sam and his behavior is getting worse when he is getting also physically rude to her (bruise her etc) and she's also desperate cause Dean doesn't belive her. During one night Sam seems to have a nightmare and hurts her really bad (choking and hitting or something like that), that Dean wakes up from the screaming and protects reader from Sam. So I imagine a witch cursed Sam and now they need to find the remedy and protect reader from Sam. Maybe you like to add after they cured him she's still afraid of Sam and flinches whenever he gets near her, afraid he's still the bad Sam. And it's hard work for Sam to gain her trust and overcome her trauma he being so evil to her.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

[Y/N] was sitting in the back of the Impala with several books laid out beside her on witches, and the two Winchester brothers were in the front, Dean driving, Sam flicking through a book of his own. It was a sunny day, and the windows were down just enough to let some cooler air in, but not enough to mess with the pages in the books.

"You sure it's a witch and not a wraith?" Dean asked, looking in the rearview mirror at [Y/N] and then glancing at Sam. "We've seen this kind of thing before, something sucking the life out of people in nursing homes or hospitals. Several times actually".

"It's definitely a witch", [Y/N] said, turning a page in her book. "It's one specific witch".

"Okay, yeah, but how do you know?"

"Dude", Sam spoke up, looking over at his brother. "She explained it all this morning, did you really not listen to anything?"

"What, before I had coffee? C'mon Sammy, you both know not to try and talk to me before I've had coffee". He tapped the steering wheel before glancing back at [Y/N]. "Mind giving me the run down again Sweetheart?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him. Dean was like an older brother to her - she loved him, but he could be annoyingly bad at listening sometimes. She took a deep breath and began to retell her story. "A few years back I was on a case, thought it was a wraith in a nursing home out in the middle of Texas", she turned another page of her book, trying to keep her mind on something tangible, since this wasn't a story she liked her mind wandering to, and she'd already told it earlier that morning. "I was hunting with an old friend, it was before I met you two. When we got there, we couldn't find the wraith. Long story short, it turned out to be two witches, a man and a woman, sucking the lives out of the patients to extend their own. They killed my friend, just caught him completely off guard", she gulped back a lump in her throat and rubbed the book's page between her fingers. "I only managed to kill the woman. I just injured the guy and he took off before I could kill him. I've been hunting him ever since. I think he's taunting me. He has this... signature. He reports unusually high numbers of deaths in nursing homes in small towns, I guess when he's getting close to moving on, to the local newspapers, and he always gives his name as 'Ross Murphy'", she looked out of the window of the car. "That was my friend's name".

Sam looked around at her and reached back to grab her hand, which she graciously took. She'd been in a relationship with Sam for several months now and she couldn't ask for a more caring boyfriend. His capacity for empathy and love after everything he'd seen, everything he'd been through, was extraordinary. "She follows the lead every time it comes up, which isn't very often", Sam continued for her. "Usually it takes too long, it's too far away and by the time she gets there he's long gone". He squeezed her hand. "But she caught the report the day it was released this time, today, and he's only a day's drive away. There's a real chance of getting him this time".

"Okay", Dean nodded and sat up straighter in his seat, gripping tighter onto the wheel with a new sense of determination. "This is your Yellow Eyes, we'll help you get him".

She managed a small smile and squeezed Sam's hand before letting go, nodding at him to let him know she was okay, and they went back to their reading.

***

After a quick stop at a motel to get a room and work out a plan, they made their way to the nursing home that had been named in the newspaper article. The witch would recognise [Y/N] straight away, he'd see her coming, so, even though [Y/N] wanted nothing more than to march inside and kill him, she'd agreed to wait in the car and let the boys go in first. She'd described him to them, and the plan was for them to locate him, let [Y/N] know if they found him, and then they'd get him into a room on his own and keep him distracted with FBI questions about the unusual deaths until [Y/N] made her way inside to face him.

She was trying to keep herself occupied by going through the different books she'd brought, and was just about to text them to ask for an update when she saw them walking towards the car. She was confused, an hour was a long time for them to find nothing, unless they'd decided to kill the witch themselves and leave her out of it. If it was the latter, she would not be happy with either of them. Dean got to the car first, opening up the driver's side and sliding into his seat. "Sorry [Y/N], he wasn't there. Handed in his resignation about two hours before we got here, he could be anywhere by now". Sam was quick to slide into his own seat.

"Sorry, I know you wanted this to be the time you got him", he gave her a sympathetic look and she sighed in disappointment.

"What were you doing in there for an hour?" She looked between both of them, and Sam spoke up.

"We decided to split up and do a sweep of the place just in case, ask some of the residents about him".

"Yeah", Dean said, "I spoke to a nurse there, she listed a few towns that she said he'd mentioned to her recently, so I'm thinking we can go through them, catch him before he leaves his signature". He put his hand into his inside pocket and pulled out his small notebook to hand back to [Y/N]. "What do you think? Want to go to the closest one on the list now?"

"Or we could head back to the bunker and regroup, keep an eye on death counts over the next few days in the nursing homes in those towns? I could call Charlie and get her help with coming up with some sort of monitor or notification system for that kind of thing. It would probably be more efficient than travelling around to all those different towns. I mean, some of them are pretty far apart". Sam suggested. The two boys waited for [Y/N] to say what she wanted to do. She was beyond disappointed that she'd missed him again, by such little time too.

"Can we just go back to the motel? I kind of just want to think it over".

"Sure, we can do that", Dean turned around to start up the engine, and Sam turned to face forward too. [Y/N] stared out of the window for the drive back, trying to keep her hopes up.

***

"Alright, you two out, I'll go grab some food", Dean said as they pulled up outside the motel. Sam and [Y/N] stepped out of the car, and she was too upset with how the hunt had gone that she didn't register the fact that Sam didn't wait for her, he just walked straight to the room. Sam always waited for her, he always wanted to walk with her, especially when he knew she was upset. She followed him through the door and set her bag down on the table.

"Can you put that somewhere else? We're going to eat at the table", Sam looked at her expectantly, and she was a bit taken aback by his tone, but picked her bag up and dropped it down on the floor beside one of the beds. "Thanks", he mumbled, looking through his own bag for a change of clothes. "I'm gonna shower". He turned and walked into the bathroom, locking it behind him. Sam always asked if she wanted to shower first, and he never locked the door when it was just the two of them. She stood in the middle of the room, wondering if she'd done something to annoy him, but she couldn't think of anything. She sat down at the table and stared out of the window, wondering what the chances were of them finding the witch before he made a report this time. Sam was quick in his shower, and when he came out he went straight to a bed, laying down on it and flicking through his notebook. After waiting a moment to see if he had anything to say, and he didn't, [Y/N] went for her shower.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Dean was back. The two of them were sitting at the table, taking food out of a bag. Sam looked up at [Y/N] and smiled, patting the chair beside him. "Dean got your favourite". Now even more confused at his sudden change in attitude, she hesitated, but walked over to take a seat beside him. He leaned his arm on the back of her chair and pulled the bag over for her to get her food out of.

"How are you doing now?" Dean asked, picking up a few fries. She shrugged, not really sure how she felt about how the day had gone. She felt Sam move his hand to her shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze.

"We'll get him. Trust me, with the three of us after him together for the first time, he doesn't stand a chance".

***

Sam remained his usual self for the rest of the evening, chatting with Dean and [Y/N]. He and [Y/N] shared a bed and Dean took the second bed like usual, and also like usual, Sam held [Y/N] close to his chest, stroking her back until she fell asleep. He seemed normal the following morning too, and when [Y/N] asked if they could go back to the bunker and work out the best strategy for hunting the witch down, both Sam and Dean were fully supportive.

However, once it got late enough and they'd all been sitting in the bunker's library for several hours looking through Dean's list and trying to figure out the best way to search for the witch, things changed again. Dean closed his laptop and announced that he was going to bed, and as soon as he left the room, Sam's demeanour changed almost instantly. He suddenly looked uncomfortable in his seat and closed his laptop too. "You going to bed too?" [Y/N] asked and he scoffed at her.

"I spent all of yesterday and all of today working on this case for you, and you're going to make a big deal out of me wanting to get some sleep?"

"What? No? Where's this coming from?" She asked, extremely confused by his defensiveness. She'd only asked if he was going to bed because then she'd call it a day too and join him.

"Come on, it's like I can never do enough to please you", he said as he stood up, tucking his laptop under his arm. He turned to leave but she stood up and grabbed his arm.

"Hey, wait. You can't just say that and then walk off!" She tried to turn him around but he shrugged her grip off his arm and continued to walk.

"Just do me a favour and sleep in your own bed tonight, I need a good night's sleep without you suffocating me". With that, he left. [Y/N] stood there with her mouth open, a wave of pain and nausea hitting her which she could most definitely describe as the feeling of rejection. She'd never officially moved into Sam's room, most of her stuff was in a room of her own, but she couldn't remember the last time she slept in there instead of in Sam's room.

"What's with the shouting?" Dean walked back into the room, now dressed in his MoL dressing gown. He walked past [Y/N] to grab his laptop, then walked back over to her. "[Y/N]? Why are you just standing there?" He looked down at her to wait for a response when he saw a tear escape from her eye. "Hey, what's wrong? Why were you shouting? Where's Sam?"

"He..." She swallowed and cleared her throat when her voice sounded shaky. "He told me to sleep in my own room tonight". Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Why? That doesn't sound like him".

[Y/N] shook her head in agreement. "I think I did something to piss him off, but I have no idea what".

"Maybe he's just tired. I'm sure he'll be all apologetic in the morning", Dean gently patted her shoulder. "Go get some sleep, I think we're all tired". He smiled at her reassuringly before leaving the room to head to his bed for the night. [Y/N] sighed, trying to believe Dean's words that Sam was just overtired and he'd be back to normal in the morning. It was difficult, he'd never acted like this towards her. Sure, he'd been annoyed at her before, but she always knew why - like if she'd taken too big of a risk on a hunt, or if she'd ganged up on him with Dean during a prank war and gone a bit too far, but this time, she couldn't think of anything she'd done wrong. She walked towards her room, which was closer than Sam's was so she didn't have to walk by his room, and sat down on her bed. She'd gone for naps in this bed occasionally when Sam wasn't around, but couldn't remember the last time she spent a night in it. It was cold, and the room didn't smell like Sam at all. She changed into pyjama shorts and one of Sam's old t-shirts that she found in the back of her closet, and got into bed. It took her a long time to fall asleep, thoughts of Sam wanting to break up with her floating around her mind.

***

For a moment when she first woke up, she forgot that she was in her own bed. She stretched, and when the other side of her bed was cold, the memory of going to sleep alone hit her, forcing her eyes open. She looked to her side, where she'd usually find Sam, and there was no one there. Sighing, she forced herself up to go and get dressed and ready for another day of research, trying to push her anxiety about Sam to the background of her thoughts.

Dean was in the kitchen when she walked in, a stack of bacon in front of him and a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked up at her as she walked over to the coffee machine. "Did you get some sleep?" He asked and she looked over to him and nodded.

"Yeah, I did actually", she grabbed her cup when it was ready and sat down opposite him. "Look, if you don't want to research today, please don't feel like you have to. This is my case, it's on me, I've been on it for years on my own and I can continue it like that". She figured if Sam was annoyed at having to work on this case, then Dean must be too.

"What're you talking about?" Dean mumbled through a mouth full of bacon before swallowing. "This is a case, we work cases, it's what we do. I can't start a case and then just give it up when we've barely done anything".

She was about to thank him when a noise caught her attention. She turned around to see Sam walking through the doorway and the blood instantly drained from her face, having no idea what he was going to say to her. He walked over to her and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "Good morning", he smiled down at her and walked away to get his own coffee.

"Good... morning?" What was going on with him?

"You seem to be in a good mood", Dean remarked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, had a good night's sleep, ready to get back into the research", Sam sat down beside [Y/N], his words stinging knowing he slept well without her. "You seem a bit quiet, are you alright?" He gently nudged [Y/N] with his shoulder, she just blinked at him. He turned to Dean to see his confused expression too. "What?" He chuckled uncomfortable, glancing between the two of them. "Do I smell or something?"

"Why are you acting so weird?" She shifted to face him properly. "One minute it's all gentle touches and smiles and then the next you're all annoyed and telling me that I'm suffocating you?"

Sam scoffed and furrowed his eyebrows at her. "What are you talking about? Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Don't do that Sam. Don't fucking gaslight me". She glared at him and Dean shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable at sitting opposite the two of them right now. He cleared his throat and mumbled some sort of excuse before leaving the room.

"Get a grip [Y/N], no one's gaslighting you". He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, leaving [Y/N] staring at him with her eyes wide open. Sam continued to drink his coffee, not saying anything else.

"Okay", she took a deep breath. "This isn't you. You need to tell me what's going on Sam, you're scaring me".

"Scaring you?" He scoffed. "You're a sad excuse for a hunter if you're scared of a normal person".

"You're not acting normal right now. Not at all. You're being weirdly rude, Sam". She watched as he finished his coffee and stood up, leaving his mug in the sink and walking out of the room without replying to her. She sat there for a moment until Dean walked in, whistling one of his favourite songs. "What's wrong with him Dean?" She asked and he stood beside the table, folding his arms and looking down at her.

"What do you mean?"

"You saw how he was, pretending nothing was going on even though he told me to sleep alone last night".

"I mean..." He shrugged at her. "I just passed him in the hallway and he seemed fine, he said he spoke with Charlie and they're going to work out some sort of algorithm for tracking down this witch of yours".

"So you don't think he's being rude or mean at all?

"Rude or mean?" He chuckled. "This is Sam we're talking about. Like I said yesterday, he was probably just tired, but he's ready to get to work today and help with the case".

***

[Y/N] kept her distance from Sam for most of the day, electing to go out for a supply run and then research in her room. When the evening rolled around, Dean came to find her to tell her that he'd cooked dinner for the three of them, and she followed him out into the kitchen where Sam was already seated. He hadn't come to check on her once throughout the entire day, but just like in the motel, he patted the seat beside him and smiled at her, seeming like his usual self. Once again she pushed all of the strangeness to the back of her mind, and let herself enjoy the meal with the brothers. They discussed their findings from the research, Sam explained the system he'd set up and that as soon as any of the nursing homes in their list reported a higher than usual number of deaths, they'd be notified. The conversation moved on to reminiscing about other witch hunts, then moved to funny stories about strange hunts which left all three of them laughing and relaxed until late into the night.

[Y/N] had almost forgotten about Sam's coldness towards her as they walked down the hall to his room, hand in hand as Dean walked with them. "Night Dean", she smiled at him as he headed into his room, and she and Sam walked into Sam's room. Sam let go of her hand and closed the door behind them, then started to take his clothes off, stripping down to his boxers. [Y/N] took her clothes off too, leaving herself in her underwear, and they both got into the bed. Usually, Sam would pull her over and hold her until she fell asleep, but this time, he turned onto his side and faced away from her. Propping herself up on her elbow to look at him, she paused for a moment before saying something. "Sam?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just go to sleep, I'm tired".

[Y/N] lay down and listened as Sam started to softly snore. There was definitely something up with him. He'd never treated her like this before, and since Sam was big on communication and letting people know when he was annoyed, she really couldn't understand what was going on between them. She tried to close her eyes and fall asleep, but she couldn't. She felt uncomfortable in the bed, like she wasn't wanted there. After twenty or so minutes of lying there, she gave up. She slowly and carefully pushed the covers off and stepped out of the bed, her bare feet cold on the floor as she crept out of the room. She made her way to her own room and slid into her bed, pulling the covers up over herself and hugging her pillow tightly. She cried herself to sleep.

***

"[Y/N]? You awake?" Dean knocked on her door. She groaned and opened one eye, grabbing her phone to check the time. 6am.

"What?" She called back, yawning and stretching.

"Get ready to head out onto the road, Sam got a hit and it's only an hour's drive from here", Dean shouted through the door. Sam. As much as she wanted to get out there and find the witch, she didn't want to face Sam. He'd obviously been up and awake for awhile if he'd gotten a hit and had time to go and wake Dean up. He must have noticed that [Y/N] was no longer in his bed, yet he hadn't bothered to go search for her.

She was quick to get washed and dressed and out to the car, where both brothers were waiting for her. She slid into her usual seat in the back, behind Dean, and Sam turned around to smile at her. "Hey, missed you this morning, was everything okay?" He asked. She searched for any sign of deception on his face, but he seemed completely genuine.

"I slept in my own bed last night".

"How come?" He furrowed his eyebrows at her. She gave him the same look back but turned to look towards Dean's direction instead.

"You said it was an hour away?" She asked, avoiding Sam's gaze. Dean started up the car and nodded.

"Yep, so make sure you're prepared. If he's in there, we're gonna want to corner him quickly before he escapes". The three of them didn't speak for the entirety of the car ride, it was early and neither Dean nor [Y/N] were morning people, and Sam knew well enough not to try and treat them like they were.

Dean suggested using the same plan as last time; the Winchesters would go in first and then call [Y/N] if they found the witch. [Y/N] agreed, but she was even less happy about it than last time with how weird Sam had been acting. She wasn't sure what was going on with him, but she didn't exactly trust him 100% at the moment. She waited in the car all but five minutes before deciding to go in after them.

She was greated by a nurse at the front desk, and she asked which way her partners had gone. After the nurse showed her that they had turned left down a hallway, she thanked the nurse and made her way down the hallway, smiling at an old woman on the way who said hello to her. She checked a few of the rooms along the hallway, but three were empty and one just had an elderly man with his family visiting. She reached the end of the hallway and found a staircase. When she reached the top, she was faced with another hallway. She stopped when she reached the first door on the left, which was ajar. She peaked inside and her heart instantly started to race. He was there. The witch was standing at the window, and when he heard her come in, he smirked at her. "It's been a long time", he said. She instantly pulled out her gun and pointed it at him. "Well, that's a bit rude of you", he sniggered and took a step towards her. "Why don't we try and have some manners? We haven't even introduced ourselves. You don't know my name, do you?"

"I don't give a fuck what your name is". She ground her teeth together. "You killed my friend".

"Ah... yes. He was your friend. Not exactly a fair trade, was it?" He looked back outside the window. "I noticed after I'd killed him that your friend had a wedding band, but you didn't".

"Yeah, his wife and kids were devastated. I had to give them the news". She took a step towards him. "And now I'm going to kill you".

"And they call me a monster", he chuckled. "My victims, my patients, are nearing the ends of their lives. They're in pain, they're lost in their own minds. I put them out of their misery. We put them out of their misery. You killed her. You stabbed her, you pushed her out a window, and she died a painful death. Are we really so dissimilar?" He faced her again and raised an eyebrow at her. "I killed your friend, but you killed my partner, my love, my life. Why shouldn't I do the same to you? Would I not be justified, taking him from you, making you suffer?" He looked over the top of her head with a smirk, and she glanced back to find the door being pushed open wider, and Sam walking through, instantly raising his gun and shooting. When she looked back, the witch was gone.

"Don't tell me you were in here having a conversation with him", Sam snarled.

"I was just about to shoot him when you walked in", she went to walk over to where the witch had been standing, but Sam shoved her out of the way, making her stumble and fall against the wall. She grabbed her arm, a sharp pain resonating from her wrist up to her shoulder. "What the hell Sam?!" She shouted at him, but Sam was ignoring her, looking at the space that the witch had been in looking out the window. He turned to her, his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring; she'd never seem him look so angry. He walked over to her, looking down at her and pointing his finger at her. "If you're going to stop to have a chat with every monster we hunt then we won't have space for you on our team. Get your priorities straight, fucking ridiculous". He scoffed. She cowered beneath him, Sam was a large and intimidating man, and being on the receiving end of his anger was terrifying, even for an experienced hunter. "I'm going to find Dean and tell him you fucked up, we're going back to the bunker". He didn't give her a chance to respond before leaving the room.

***

The car ride back to the bunker was weird. Well, Sam was weird. Dean didn't seem too bothered by the witch escaping, he just started to hum along to his music. Sam kept turning around to ask [Y/N] if she was okay since she was quiet. He asked if her wrist was okay after she tripped. Tripped. She didn't know what to say to him, any time she brought up how mean he'd been to her, he acted confused and so did Dean. It was like they thought something weird was going on with her. She didn't know if it was an act, or if he genuinely was completely oblivious to how he'd been behaving. She ignored him as she stared out of the window, thinking over what the witch had said to her. 'Would I not be justified, taking him from you, making you suffer?' She definitely had been suffering over the last few days, and she felt like Sam was being taken from her.

She was quick to get out of the car and go to her room, ignoring Sam's attempts at following after her. She closed the door behind her and lay back on her bed, wondering how on earth she was going to convince Dean that something was wrong with Sam. She decided to call Charlie, since she knew she'd been working with Sam on the notification system, to see if she noticed anything off about him. After a long talk (rant) on the phone about Sam, [Y/N] came to the conclusion that he was completely normal with everyone except towards her, and only when he was alone with her. She'd have to make sure that Dean was around until she figured out how to fix things, because after he'd pushed her and hurt her in the nursing home, she was scared of Sam.

She kept herself locked away in her room until well into the evening. Her stomach was rumbling, and when it got late enough for the likelihood of Sam being in the kitchen to be low, she ventured out into the hallway. She walked quietly down the corridor to the kitchen, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was empty. She quickly got to work, making something that was quick and easy so she could get back to her room. She felt ridiculous, she was anxious about her boyfriend walking into the room. If she couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, she knew she'd have to leave. She couldn't stay in the bunker like this, she couldn't live in fear of someone she loved.

***

It was late at night when she'd finished eating in her room, and she left to go clean up her plate and cutlery in the kitchen. She'd only taken a few steps out of her room when Sam strolled around the corner, bumping into her. "Shit sorry- oh. It's you. Watch where you're going, will you?" He rolled his eyes and shoved past her, but she grabbed his arm.

"Can we -" She was cut off by Sam grabbing her arm and ripping it off his. He pushed her back against the wall, the same sore wrist being the first part of her to hit the wall. She cried out in pain and slid down the wall, cradling her arm as tears started to spill from her eyes.

"Don't touch me", he snarled at her. "God you're so pathetic, crying on the floor. Get over yourself". He walked down the hallway to his room, leaving her there alone. She sat there, staring after him yet again, and just let herself cry. All of the pain, confusion, coldness, rudeness, the roughness, just crashed down on her. She couldn't help it.

"Hey, hey what happened?" Suddenly Dean was crouching down in front of her, pushing her hair out of her face and pulling her chin up to face him. "Shit, [Y/N] tell me what's wrong". He'd never seen her this upset before. Even when hunts went wrong, or she'd been injured by a monster and needed stitches or a trip to the ER, she'd never cried this much. When she continued to cry he gently grabbed her shoulders. "Breathe [Y/N], come on, you're okay". When she gave no sign of calming down, Dean looked down the hallway before looking back at her. "Okay, I'll get Sam".

"No!" She shouted, grabbing onto his flannel with her uninjured hand. "No, please", she sniffed, "please don't". He gave her a look of confusion but nodded.

"Right. You need to explain what's going on though, like right now".

"I... I think my wrist is broken", she looked down at it, it was definitely red and swollen, and if she tried to move it even slightly, a sharp stinging sensation ran throughout her hand and arm. She looked up at him, blinking the tears out of her eyes. "Could you maybe drive me to the hospital?"

"Yeah of course, and you definitely don't want me to get Sam?"

"Definitely not, he broke my wrist Dean. He pushed me, and not for the first time. I can't be around him, not like how he is. I know you don't see it, I know he seems normal to you, but I'm telling you. There's something wrong with him". She explained as he helped to get her up off the ground. They walked towards the car and she explained exactly what Sam had done and said to her over the last few days, and what the witch had said too.

They spoke about it on the way to the hospital, and Dean told her that he believed her, that he would help her figure it all out and that he would confront Sam about it later without [Y/N]. "You're like a little sister to me, and I know it sounds like a lie coming from me but I don't give a shit if it's Sam or if it's Lucifer that's hurting you, I won't allow it". He pulled up into a parking space before turning to her. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with this and I'm sorry I dismissed you when you tried telling me about it before. I'll help you".

"Thanks", she smiled at him. Dean really was like an older brother to her too, and now that she had someone on her team, especially Dean of all people, protecting her, she was a little bit less scared of going home.

***

"Okay, you should be good to go in just a minute. I'll write you up a prescription for some pain killers and then you can go on home", the doctor smiled kindly at [Y/N] as she finished up putting a cast on her wrist. She had a fractured wrist, not too bad, but it was still throbbing. The doctor left the room and [Y/N] turned to Dean, who'd been sitting patiently with her during the assessment.

"You remember when we went to the first nursing home, and the witch wasn't there?" [Y/N] asked, and Dean nodded. "Did you say you and Sam stuck together or did you say you split up?"

"We looked around the place together, but then split up when talking to the nurses and some of the residents", Dean said. "How come?"

"Just something the witch said. I think maybe he was there, and I think he may have done something to Sam", [Y/N] bit her lip, Sam being the only thing on her mind for days now.

"You think he's cursed?" Dean sat up a bit straighter. "I'll check his room and coat pockets for hexbags when we get back", he nodded.

"Yeah, that would be good. What if it's not a hexbag though? What if it's something we need the witch to undo?"

"Then we'll find the son of a bitch and make him fix it. There's no way in hell I'm letting Sam walk around cursed for the rest of his life", Dean scoffed. "One way or another we'll get him back to normal, I promise".

"Okay", the doctor walked back into the room with a prescription in hand, interrupting their cinversation. "You can fill this at the station downstairs, you'll pass it by on your way out", she handed the piece of paper to [Y/N]. "Come back and see me in six weeks, we'll get that off you and you'll be good as new", she smiled.

"Thank you", [Y/N] nodded and stood up, Dean standing with her and moving to shake the doctor's hand. The two of them left to fill the prescription and drive home. [Y/N] quietly hoped that Dean would find a hexbag and destroy it, and that would be the end of all her problems, but she knew not to let her hopes get too high. It was never that simple.

***

Dean didn't find any hexbags. He did however have a conversation with Sam, who seemed completely oblivious to how he'd been behaving when alone with [Y/N]. He told Dean that he thought [Y/N] was acting weird, he thought she wanted to break up with him because she'd been sleeping alone and avoiding him during the day. He was horrified when Dean told him about her wrist, and he went to apologise to her but Dean stopped him. Sam wasn't allowed to be alone with [Y/N] until they found the witch, and [Y/N] wasn't too enthusiastic about being around Sam even with Dean there. Sam respected her wishes, even though it felt like he was being stabbed through the heart, and kept to himself, only coming out of his room when [Y/N] texted him to say she was in her room and wasn't going to accidentally bump into him. They texted a little bit, and Sam was sweet through text, but it wasn't the same. She missed him. She missed his touch.

It was a week of this arrangement before Sam got a notification about another possible nursing home, and the three of them wasted no time in setting out onto the road. They suffered through yet another silent journey, this one nearly the entire day before they stopped in a motel for the night. [Y/N] had asked for two rooms, not wanting to share with Sam, but there was only one room left.

"I'll take the couch", she said quickly and she dropped her bag down onto it, noting that there were only two beds. Sam looked at her, a mixture of pleading and guilt in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. She avoided his gaze as she pulled out a towel and her pyjamas. "I'm gonna shower and then get some sleep, Dean will you be here when I get out?" She asked, not being able to address Sam without visions of him snarling at her.

"I think we'll take a look at the local bar, Sammy hasn't been out in awhile, right Sam?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at him. This was their silent conversation about how they figured [Y/N] would fall asleep more easily if she had the room to herself.

"Okay", she gave him a small smile, "Don't stay out too late". She finally looked at Sam and his eyes widened in surprise. "We want to have all of our energy to fix things tomorrow". She quickly walked to the bathroom and closed the door before Sam could say anything back. She sighed as she leaned back against the door, listening to the low rumble of the brothers talking briefly before she heard the room's door open and close. She pushed herself off the door and looked at herself in the mirror. "We'll find him tomorrow. We'll get Sam back to normal, it will all be okay", she tried to convince herself, but she didn't sound very convincing.

***

It took a long time for [Y/N] to fall asleep on the couch that night. It wasn't comfortable, there was noise coming from the TV in the room next door, and it was cold. She'd become so used to cuddling up to Sam whenever they were away on hunts that she'd forgotten how cold she could feel without him. It was late into the night when she fell asleep, and when Sam and Dean came back. They were both tired, and Sam instinctively walked over to [Y/N] and kneeled down, noticing that she'd pushed her cover off in her sleep, he grabbed it and gently pulled it back over her. He leaned towards her to kiss her forehead, and he sighed as he smelled her familiar shampoo in her hair. He brought his hand up to brush against her cheek and push her hair out of the way, realising that it had been too long since he'd properly seen her face.

Dean had drank quite a bit at the bar, and mixed with his tiredness from driving all day, he didn't think twice about walking into the bathroom and locking the door behind him, leaving Sam alone with [Y/N]. As soon as the door locked, Sam's hand in [Y/N]'s hair tightened, gripping a handful of it. She gasped as she woke up and tried to grab his hand, but he instantly covered her mouth with his free hand. At first when she looked at him, she thought a stranger had walked into the room. There was no resemblance of the Sam she knew and loved in the man in front of her. He looked angry, dangerous, and he was far too close to her.

"You", he snarled and shook his head. "You disgust me". She desperately tried to pull his hand off her mouth, but with one hand in a cast it was proving too difficult. She had no idea where Dean was, and she was terrified. "You're so fucking pathetic, having Dean act as a bodyguard for you, to keep you safe in your own home. You can't even look at me without terror in your eyes, I don't know how I ever liked you. I don't know why I ever wanted you. Maybe I didn't, maybe you were just there, and easy". He tightened his grip in her hair and pushed her down into the couch. "Life was better before you. Did I ever tell you that? When it was just me and Dean, I had my own room, my own space, and I wasn't constantly distracted on hunts by having my 'girlfriend' there, slowing us down". His grip in her hair suddenly let up, and she was confused until his hand travelled down to her neck and he began to apply pressure. "Life will be better when you're gone too".

She tried to scream, to bite his hand, to push him away, but Sam was far stronger than she was. She was becoming lightheaded, she couldn't breathe, and Sam's face was starting to become clouded by dark spots. She didn't hear Dean shouting, and she didn't know when Sam's touch turned to Dean's. Dean shook her shoulders and his hand cupped her cheek, but she couldn't open her eyes. "Come on", he said, leaning his face down to try and hear her breathing. "Come back to us, [Y/N]", he pleaded.

"D...Dean?" She whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Yes, it's me, you're safe, I promise. Can you open your eyes for me please?"

"Is Sam here?" She asked. "I-" She cleared her throat and it burned. "I don't want to see him".

"Okay, okay, you don't have to. Give me one minute". Dean looked behind himself at Sam, who was sitting on one of the beds staring at his hands in disbelief and confusion. "Sam", Dean said lowly, and caught his attention. He stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out his keys, throwing them to Sam. "Hotel Winchester tonight". [Y/N] waited until she heard the door open and close again before she opened her eyes. She found Dean looking down at her, his face flooded with concern. "Do we need to go to the hospital?" His finger traced lightly on her neck, and he frowned at the red fingerprints left behind by Sam. She shook her head, and reached up to grab his hand in hers. As soon as he looked into her eyes, she began to cry. She couldn't help it. The person she loved most in the world had just tried to kill her. She knew he was cursed, she knew this wasn't really him, but it was his face, his voice, and he wasn't possessed, there was no one else inside him.

Dean pulled her up and into his chest, his hand resting on the back of her head as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He gently rocked her back and forth as she let it all out, whispering soothing things to her, trying to convince her, and himself, that they'd fix everything in the morning.

***

[Y/N] was alone when she woke up the following morning, and she was no longer on the couch, but in one of the beds. She looked around and noticed that the bathroom door was open, it didn't sound like anyone was in there. Her eyes landed on a piece of paper on the table beside the couch, and she got out of bed to see what it said.

You need to rest. We've got this. Call me if you need anything. - Dean

She put it down and looked out of the window. It was raining, the sky was a dark grey and it looked cold, but she didn't feel as cold as she had during the night. She looked down and realised her hands were covered by the sleeves of a flannel that was too big for her. She recognised it as Dean's. She must have cried herself to sleep in his arms, and he must have put her to bed after. She hugged herself and sat down at the table, staring at the note. She stared at the note until the sky lightened and the rain stopped, until the rumble of the Impala filled her ears and headlights flashed through the window, pulling her from dark thoughts. They were back.

She braced herself as the door opened, and she watched Dean walk in. She knew Sam was standing just out of sight, but he didn't come inside. Dean walked over to her and crouched down to look up at her. "Hey", she said. Her throat was still sore, and her voice was hoarse.

"Hey", Dean smiled at her. He glanced at the door and cleared his throat before looking back at her. "We killed the witch. I know you wanted to do it, but we cornered him, and it was the only way to break the curse".

"He's dead?" She looked into Dean's eyes, and all she could see was uncertainty. He had no idea how she was going to react or what was going on inside her head.

"He's dead. You were right, he cursed Sam in that first nursing home. Sam didn't remember it until we killed the witch. And uh..", he glanced at the door again. "And Sam should be back to normal, but we can't really test that without you".

"Yeah", she took a shaky breath. "He hurt me".

"I know. If you don't want to test it today, we don't have to. I won't leave you alone with Sam until you're ready, okay?" He gently squeezed her knees and she nodded her head.

"I want to try it now".

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. He could see Sam fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, trying to listen. "Are you sure?" Dean asked her.

"Yes. You can tell him he can come inside".

Before Dean could even call Sam, he stepped inside. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, desperately wanting to run over to her and gather her up in his arms, but he knew he couldn't. He suddenly felt more clear-headed than he had since the first nursing home. It was like he'd been in some sort of trance, and now he could remember everything he'd said and done to [Y/N] while they'd been alone. "Hey", he said.

"Hi", she said back.

"How do you want to do this? Want me to leave now or do you want me to stay for a bit first?" Dean asked, standing up from his crouching position.

"You can leave now, but can you just stay outside and not go anywhere?" She asked, and Sam nodded in agreement, scared of himself now too.

"Of course. I'll be right outside if you need me". He leaned down to kiss the top of her head before he walked over to Sam and patted his back. He left the room, and for a few moments neither Sam or [Y/N] moved.

"I don't feel... angry or anything", Sam said, his voice slightly shaky.

"That's good", [Y/N] nodded. 'Do you.. um.. feel like you're annoyed at me?"

"No", Sam shook his head. "I only feel love for you". He clenched his jaw in anticipation of what [Y/N] had to say to him. He was extremely anxious that she was about to break up with him and tell him that she never wanted to see him again. He never wanted to see himself again now that he remembered everything he'd done.

[Y/N] let out a cautious sigh of relief. "Sam-".

"[Y/N] I am so sorry", he blurted out, and for the first time, she looked him in the eyes and saw tears threatening to spill over. He was her Sam again. "I... I have no idea how to fix it, I love you, please believe me that I never would have hurt you if I wasn't cursed".

"I know. I knew there was something wrong with you, I knew you would never want to hurt me. I'm not angry with you, and I still love you". She gave him a small smile, but she could feel a lump in her throat as she swallowed back her nervousness.

"Thank you", he took a step towards her, but she flinched back and he froze in his spot.

"Sorry", she mumbled, looking down. "I do still love you, but I need some time. You... cursed you", she corrected herself, "tried to kill me last night".

"You're right", he took a step back again. "Yeah, you take all the time you need, and when you.. I mean, if you want to be around me again, I'll be here".

"Thank you. I've missed you a lot. And thanks for killing the witch, I've been hunting him for so many years, I can't believe he's finally dead".

"He won't be hurting anyone else. Or cursing anyone else", Sam added. He walked over to the door and opened it, signalling for Dean to come back in.

"All good?" Dean asked as he stepped inside, and both Sam and [Y/N] nodded. "Great!" Dean clapped his hands together. "How about getting some food? On me", he winked at [Y/N] and she smiled, getting up to walk over to them but still keeping a distance between her and Sam.

***

[Y/N] kept her distance for the next few weeks. She continued to sleep in her own room, though not very well as her nights were often accompanied by nightmares of Sam trying to kill her. She still spent more time with Dean and kept to herself a lot, but she had begun warming up to Sam more. She no longer flinched whenever he moved suddenly, or whenever he got too close. She no longer hurried to leave a room whenever he walked in. It was a painfully slow process, for both of them, but it was getting better. Sam respected her space, but was no longer too anxious to make small talk with her over breakfast, or discussing something with her while researching.

It was a cool, early morning when [Y/N] woke up from her first night's sleep that went without a nightmare. She felt refreshed and relaxed for the first time since the curse. She took her time getting up, enjoying the warmth under her covers before starting the day. When her stomach started to rumble, she pushed her covers back and quickly slid into her slippers and wrapped her dressing gown around herself. She strolled to the kitchen and paused in the doorway. Sam was at the sink, washing up. She leaned against the doorway and watched as he worked, and she felt no anxiety or fear as he stepped back for a moment to shake his hands dry and grab another mug to clean.

"Hey", she finally said, and he looked around at her.

"Hey, good morning". He smiled and nervously tucked his hair behind his ear, getting it wet in the process. [Y/N] giggled at him and his cheeks turned pink as he turned back around to turn the water off. She took a deep breath and stepped down into the kitchen. She walked over to him as he was drying his hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself into his side. He lifted his arm up and looked down at her, and not being able to help the smile spreading across his face, he lowered his arm down around her shoulders. She took a deep breath, his familiar scent bringing back memories of the two of them cuddling up together, and she relaxed into him. He turned so that she was in front of him, and he brought his other hand up to thread his fingers through her hair, holding her to his chest. He leaned his chin on top of her head and closed his eyes. His heart was beating quickly, but it was out of excitement instead of worry. "This is nice", he breathed out, and he felt her nod and tighten her grip around his waist.

"Do you have plans for today?" She asked, looking up at him and leaning her chin against his chest. He looked down at her and shook his head. "Can we just hang out today? Maybe watch a movie or something?"

"Yes. Of course, whatever you want to do, I'm here".

"Sam?"

"Yeah Sweetheart?"

"Can you kiss me?"

He smiled as he leaned down, and she leaned up on her toes to meet him halfway. The kiss was gentle, and neither of them could help but moan into it. [Y/N] slid her hands up to Sam's shoulders, while he let his hands drop down to her waist. When they broke away, [Y/N] could see nothing but adoration in his eyes. "I really missed you", she said.

"I love you [Y/N]. The witch gave me an insight into what it would be like to lose you, and I never want it. I don't want to feel like I have over the last few weeks again, and I never want you to be afraid of me again. I promise that I will love you and keep you safe for as long as I live". There was no hint of uncertainty in his voice, he meant every word.

"I love you too". She said, meaning every word too.

The end

Sam Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx

#supernatural #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #mean sam winchester #protective dean #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fluff #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #spn angst #spn fic #spn reader insert #spn #spn comfort #dean winchester comfort #supernatural comfort #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester comfort

[bloodyjuls-blog]

Im gonna fight for both of us

P4

So here we go with part 4, sorry it takes me too long but I'm working and hate work haha...

When Alexia entered the hospital she had no idea what she would find there, in one hand, she could find y/n awake but with some tiny injuries (it was what she wished) but what she found was a nurse informing her that they needed someone to give consent to perform an emergency surgery because y/n's accident is a serious life threatening emergency and Alexia knew well, the only person who could do that was your sister, she had the obligation to call her and inform her, she didn't bother to call your parents because she knew that you were not the most beloved daughter in that family, moreover, she knew that they wouldn't even miss you if you died, because she heard many conversations with them in which they clearly told you that you were a failure.

While Lilah, your sister, gave the authorization over the phone, the doctors explained to Alexia what had happened to y/n. First, when they arrived at the hospital y/n went into cardiac arrest due to the impact, then doing a general sweep they found cervical and spinal injuries that compromise her mobility, hence the emergency surgery. What worries them the most is the injury of her brain, apparently it has a severe inflammation and they are concerned that when she wakes up (if she does) she will have compromised her cognitive functions such as speaking, moving, remembering things, most likely she will have memory loss.

When her sister arrived at the hospital she was furious, how was it possible that y/n was drinking again and doing these things as irresponsible. Alexia got angry and said a few things to her.

"Look, I don't think that looking for blames is the solution, what I think is that we should support each other without blaming in favor of y/n not dying, because I swear that if she dies I am going with her, you don't understand the things she was going through, and being honest neither did I, and if looking for blames then blame me because I was the one insisting" Alexia said. "Insist on what, what did you say Alexia" says y/n's sister "I insisted so much on the idea of starting a family, having children, that without those things I couldn't continue with her, that all this time was lost, but I swear it's not like that, it hurts me a lot to know that probably the only thing she heard from me was that while she's always being the loveliest person she is told me that for her the family was me and she didn't need children while she was with me, you don't know how much I regret it." Says Alexia crying and Lilah just approached and hugged her. At the end of the day their relationship is very close. "Ale calm down a little and come let's sit down, I think I understand why y/n is like this with the family thing and maybe when y/n wakes up it will kill me because it's something she didn't want you to know" lilah says calmly. They settled into the waiting room chairs.

"Since she was very little, my sister has always been the black sheep, the daughter that nobody wanted, the girl that when she had the opportunity to left home she did and never came back, you know Alexia when my sister left I was very sad but as an older sister I always saw the mistreatment and never said anything, she stopped going to so many events, so many Christmas reunions, so many birthdays or things like that because she simply knew that they didn't want her, they didn't show it love of support, the only thing that accompanied her in her gray days and well not so gray, was her bottle of whiskey, what can you ask from a teenager who has social pressure for what she does and no support or family that can tuck her in and tell her that everything will be okay" says the sister between soft tears. "I didn't know that, I thought that since she was also getting along with you..." Ale said remembering the phone calls from your parents.

"Of course Ale, you more than anyone knows that she is not one of those people who scream her problems and plead for help, she didn't want you to see her as something weird, that's why she gets along so well with your family, she found love in you, to feel loved, tucked in by someone, valued, no matter what and luckily your family is just like you, if you see the relationship my parents have with me and have with her you would surely get angry because you and I know what is y/n and how important it is to have her in our lives, Ale I'm not going to lie to you, a while ago I also thought that my sister wanted to be a mother because you know mate, look at how she treats the children, they have a very special relationship, very nice, she is a pure soul, but all her life she has seen examples of how not to be parents, how my mother ignored her and her things, Alexia the fact that my parents are not here is not new, when that 17 year old girl in her peak career broke her cruciate ligament, nobody was there for her, not even to give her a bottle of water, and because of that and more things is that y/n is super strong and every thing she sets in her mind to do she achieves it. For many years it was just her against the world and she has lived many blows without saying a word, so if she gets out of here you will understand that it will be very difficult, she will need a lot of support because according to what I have been told, her injuries are serious, probably the only thing that keeps her alive is football and she won't can do that anymore" says Lilah calmer. "I swear Lilah when y/n gets out of here things will be different, I would have liked to have this same talk but with her and avoid this bump in our road but life gives some people a lot and others very little, I swear I will be in her way as long as she lets me, that girl deserves nothing but good things and I believe that all the people she has given her love have let her down in a certain way, but just like you, I also want to do well, did you know that at home I have the ring to propose to her? I swear that without it I can't live" says Alexia more calm and confident. "I'm glad to hear that Ale, you two do each other good, please don't lose that, you're all would be miserable for life and that's not what you're all deserve." Lilah said as she gave Alexia a hug.

Hours later

"Relatives of y/n y/l" says the receptionist on the OR floor. "We are" say Lilah and Alexia at the same time. "The doctor is cleaning up but he's on his way here to report his relative" says the girl stoically. "Thank you very much" they both say in unison.

Once in the study room with the doctor....

"Well, I must say that it was a very complicated surgery because we found internal injuries that we couldn't see in the x-ray and that compromised her health, I am not lying when I say that she went into cardiac arrest at least three times and that worries us a lot because it means that her heart is weak. About her cervical injuries I am afraid that only when she wakes up we will be able to know if she has sensitivity in her legs and if she will be able to walk again, but I must admit that because of the blows her spinal cord has been affected, I want to be very realistic with you, if we manage to have a satisfactory recovery it will be very difficult for her to return to her profession, because the high impact can cause definitive injuries, now my colleagues are monitoring her brain signals because in the resonance we saw very few but we can guarantee that there is no brain death, but any sequels will be determined once she wakes up, at the moment she is not in coma but she was not awake either, we have implemented a method of sedation a little strong but I insist she is not in coma, so now later when the entrance to her relatives is authorized you're all can talk to her, in this state she can listen hope so. Of course, the view that you are going to find is very strong, because she is connected to many tubes and intravenous lines, also her external injuries are a little strong and her foot has an external fixator because there was a fracture of the tibia and fibula". Says the doctor super calm but forceful.

"thank you very much doctor, the fact that she is still alive is because of your effort, let's hope that the evolution is positive, sure it is" says Lilah calm and Alexia super scared because she doesn't understand anything. "Well Ale, y/n is not well and there are strong changes coming in her life and the only thing we have left to do is be by her side to make it as bearable as possible, I am not so much worried about her physical injuries but mental then we must make sure that when she gets out of here she gets psychological attention, and have faith that she will get out of this because she is a super strong person, she always has been and this will be just a very fat bump for her, are you ready to see her" Lilah says optimistic. "I don't know, I just know that if I will always be even if she doesn't want me to, it will be hard for me to see her like this but that's okay" Alexia says forcefully. Alexia's phone starts ringing, it's Ana and Leah on joint call.

"Hi girls."

"Hi Alexia, what happened to y/n, did you find her" says Ana worried.

"Girls, y/n was involved in an accident and it's serious" says Alexia with her voice cracking remembering the anguish experienced a few hours ago.

"How???? What do you mean accident and serious????, my goodness" says Leah in dismay.

"Yes girls, apparently her car overturned at high speed on Tibidabo and her injuries are serious, she probably won't be able to play football anymore" "if you want to come I'm sure y/n would really appreciate it" says Ale sadly.

"I'm already looking at flights to Barcelona, I just can't believe it, what a downer girls, I'm so sad" says Leah in tears.

"Ale tells me which hospital you are, I'm on my way" says Ana in a hurry.

"We are in the one near Tibidabo" "now I'm sending you the location, I'm going to hang up, I'm going to go in to see my baby" and Alexia hung up.

Before entering the room Alexia calls the team managers to discuss what happened and they tell her not to worry that everything is going to be fine and that she can take all the time in the world to be with y/n.

Lilah takes Alexia's hand and asks her if she is ready to go in to which Ale nods not so sure....

When they enter the first thing they see is y/n lying on the bed with many tubes everywhere, one coming out of her mouth, IV in her arms, one in her leg and the fixator in her ankle adding the bandage on her head (because nothing can be seen from her spine but that's where her surgery was) a tube coming out of her side, Alexia's heart breaks in little pieces to see her like this, the love of her life lying on a bed fighting for her life....

"Ale, talk to her and hold her hand, so she could feel you are here, with her, while I go make some calls" "Ok" alexia says.

"Hello my love, I know that the last time I spoke to you I didn't say very nice things but I want you to know that they're not true, I was very angry with you, it is that you are a stubborn honey, why don't you tell me your things, my life you are going to be very well. You are going to recover and although everything will be very different I am going to be with your sister and you all the way, you are going to be well, healthy, strong and laughing at life as always, I am sad to see you like this, I don't like to see that you are having a bad time, I only ask you to fight and stay here with me, don't go without me, I love you so much, all the girls are worried, even Leah is coming from London later and Ana is on her way, I'm sure that when they see me they will want to tear my head off for being stubborn, and you should know that I don't mind not having children but as long as I have you, nothing happens. .. We will buy the little house on the beach that we want so much and we will be very happy my love, I cannot do without you, you are my life, you have always been my life, I love you, very much and I will not leave here and go home without you. I love you too much, you can't imagine how much..." Alexia says through tears as she comes over and gives you a little kiss on your uninjured cheek. She arranges the chair next to you and doesn't let go of your hand, trying to give you some human warmth in that cold room. And she falls asleep for a while to the sound of the monitors lulling her to sleep.

#woso #fc barcelona femeni #lionesses #fcb femeni #woso x reader #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #leah williamson imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #leah williamson x reader