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#idk she’s the genius I’m just there

unohanadaydreams · 1 year

Text

I haven’t watched the new episode and I haven’t finished any of these kinktober requests bc Mother Nature has been curb stomping me.

But uuuuh here have some random stuff, mostly me talking about some Bleach OCs, below.

This song = Mayuri Kurotsuchi. I mean, just look at the album cover even??? The colors of her eyes and hair??? Mayuri’s emotional intelligence is definitely here, at this level.

I started actually workshopping an OC (compliments of this pic and the following to picrew obv). Fairly restrained person who goes down the Maggots Nest to R&D pipeline. She doesn’t have a solid name yet, but I do know her zanpakuto is a giant centipede who cries when she doesn’t visit enough.

Although she does suffer from R&D morality disease, she comes off fairly normal in quick, then get back to work small talk. She doesn’t have ambitions outside of the R&D anymore. The whole getting locked up for not doing anything but showing potential to do something kind of killed it.

Part of the coding crew for the semi-organic technology. So part computer coding, part surgical expertise. Largely attempting to translate the two into a cleaner mesh. Highly interested in how different reishi & spiritual pressure (of different species) can make this process easier, but halted by lots of red tape.

Has come to realize that with surveillance spanning farther and larger after the war, that she is now also playing IT to many shinigami who can barely work a soul phone. Absolutely soul crushing work. Especially considering the work she WANTS to be doing.

Really, really loves insects but switches her accessories to more traditionally cute things (like bears) when she goes outside of R&D. Not good at following lines of conversation she hasnt prepped for. Wretched at generating small talk while doing IT calls and will just lead the conversation back to task at hand.

Glazes the fact that she’s part of Gotei 13 out of her mind and lets R&D be the wall she can’t look over. This makes the IT work even more harrowing.

Copes largely by throwing herself into hobbies & the work she likes but also does do drugs! Not for fun or anything because she is too socially lame for that but she eventually finds that other people are super down to do drugs with her. This is the entry point where she starts develop actual relationships with people. Tfw you need experimental drugs to loosen up and have a laugh with people. My precious girl is so bad with people ❤️

She inspired me to workshop ANOTHER OC, a friend. And also a large reason she ended up in the maggots nest:

(Shut up no I don’t think girls with short hair and glasses is the height of character design this is just a wild coincidence)

Worked in a tea house in the Noble Quarters and quickly became drawn to Tokinada for his blatant cruelty toward nobleman, who she desperately wished to be blatantly cruel to as well. Due to their own cruelty. You know the drill.

Tossed in the maggots nest for *TV static* and got out once Tokinada has climbed ranks enough to pull her out, and almost got herself killed after she threw a fit about having to join Gotei 13. Because Tokinada is a controlling POS. But OC wants a sliver of control herself, too much to partways. And what other choice does she have? Commit herself to being a shinigami? Go work somewhere in the rukongai? As if!

She makes every excuse to tag along with above OC on IT. She’s much better at small talk but is also just really annoying and needling. She always has her I Want To Know All About You mask on. It’s the only way she keeps from fucking losing it.

Her zanpakuto is a goblin shark, half stuck in a half sealed shrine underwater. She hates shinigami and was drawn to OC for that reason. Also controlling, demanding, and lords her support over OC if conditions aren’t fulfilled. No idea why her zanpakuto hates shinigami yet, but I do know that she puts her entire sharkussy into evaluation fights because the opponents are always fellow shinigami (duh). Also pretends she can taste what OC eats and demands a diet of fish and crustacean. I thought that was funny.

I also think it’s funny that I know so much about her zanpakuto but to be fair she’s a huge personality, very mysterious, and enshrouded in anger. *boops her smooth snout*

I like the idea of a zanpakuto seeking out a personality they feel they can take advantage of. The sword souls need more insane personalities that blur the line of sword and shinigami imo.

And finally, the last OC, who escaped being dragged into the maggots nest bc she is just not that dangerous nor smart by the standards of Central 46. Does know above two OCs very well.

Real simple girl. Loves having a roof over her head and a warm meal in her belly. Doesn’t care how she needs to accomplish that.

Great with people. Great with lying to people. Great with justifying violence against people. As long as she has a roof, a meal, and a cigarette (or any vice if she can’t have that), it’s all good.

Gets upset when people think she and first OC are related (bc of vaguely same hair and skin color. They don’t look alike apart from that). First OC died to get here and this one was born in the Rukongai. She takes a lot of pride in making it from then to now. She also holds a huge grudge if someone asks if they’re related. Monumental. Good luck winning shit in most gambling establishments within the Seireitei.

Runs a lot of gambling gigs for shinigami. Never for nobility any more. The money isn’t worth it. Promises a lot of things and only delivers sometimes. Has her hooks in Hisagi, for example, because he’s a sucker. She gets most of her human goods from filched pockets in the rukongai (s/o to the mind of Pirenja, im pretty sure for the black market post for this idea). She isn’t above pestering first OC to make something she’s promised at R&D. Rarely pays back the favor.

Runs a bootleg Urahara Shoten with Urahara’s blessing because he thinks it’s funny, he could use the extra storage, and Ururu really wanted to help running something in soul society. It’s called Ururu Shoten but everything else looks exactly the same as the human world counter part. This is how she knows a lot of big names.

OC and Ururu make an oddly good team and she unfortunately has a soft spot for the kid. To balance this out, she regularly tries to fuck over the business in ways that she can wriggle free from.

She’s a shinigami in name only. Doesn’t have a zanpakuto spirit to speak of. Barely in the ranks. Barely scrapes by her duties. In it for the room and board and connections.

Very funny how many people assume she has nothing going for her based on this. The amount of ppl taken aback when she shows up as the host of a card game is gargantuan.

She can not comprehend a day doing nothing, despite her love of simple pleasures. If she isn’t rubbing her little hands together and buzzing around a new shit scheme, she is listless.

If this has taught me anything, it’s that I’m horrible at committing to names. But uuuuuuuh, hope you like my gals.

#I think last OC couldn’t truly be so fun if she had a zanpakuto spirit and actual responsibilities #she’s if Urahara remained just some guy and wasn’t a god tier level genius #but also she’s not as effortless #whatever I love her #I love all of them #idk why the second OC I had to immediately attach to Tokinada #but it just felt right #she WANTS what he has so bad and she refuses to see how much it’s killing her #and first OC is just like ‘I’m doing my job. I’m enjoying my hobbies. I’m doing drugs you’ve never heard ofto survive leaving R&D everyday’#I love her a lot. she’s a competent fail girl #my beloved

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luveline · 1 month

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also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, babe.”

“No thanks.”

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.”

“I’ll have socks.”

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes.

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?”

“Why?”

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?”

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists.

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon.

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout.

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.”

“‘Xactly,” Amy says.

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.”

“No shoes,” Amy says.

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.”

“Why?”

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?”

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck.

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.”

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.”

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!”

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then.

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.”

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing.

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it.

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough.

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs.

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

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toaster waffles

in which spencer is woken up by fem!reader and their young daughter after being away on a case

fluff warnings/tags: none really, a bit of suggestiveness between spencer and reader but nothing explicit, their daughter is a genius duh, i love dad!spence so fucking much holy shit a/n: i wrote this in like thirty minutes so good luck! just needed to write dad spencer it just needed to happen idk

“No—baby, we have to let daddy sleep in,” you chide your daughter, jogging to catch her as she races down the hallway on clumsy little legs.

“No! I wanna see daddy!” She yells—and if Spencer wasn’t awake yet, he will be now. You give in, opening the bedroom door for Ada with a fond (exasperated) sigh.

“Daddy! Daddy wake up!”

He blinks sleepily several times, sitting up and grinning at his daughter as she attempts to climb up onto the bed.

“Hi, princess,” he laughs, grunting dramatically as he pulls her up onto his lap. “Oh my gosh, did you get all grown up while I was gone?”

He catches your eye as you stop at the foot of the bed, arms folded and mouthing an amused ‘I’m sorry.’ Spencer smiles and almost imperceptibly shakes his head, eyes sparkling as Ada attempts to use him as playground equipment. No apology necessary.

“I made you breakfast!” she remembers, grabbing onto his shoulders and springing up and down on the bed. His eyes go wide.

“You did? Where is it?”

“Oh no!” she claps her hands to her cheeks and opens her mouth wide, Home Alone style. Spencer laughs. “I forgot it!”

Then she’s wriggling off the bed and running as fast as her little feet will carry her, presumably to the kitchen.

“You like cold toaster waffles, right?” you tease, approaching the bed and filling the now empty seat that is Spencer’s lap. His hands find your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I would go so far as to say I love them. Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder. “I missed you. I forgot how hard it is when you’re gone.”

He hums, running his hand over your hair.

“I know. Me too.” Spencer now only consults on cases, and very rarely is he actually obliged to travel with the BAU. It was never easy before, but now that you have a child, it takes more out of everyone. “Hey. Look at me.”

You do, lifting your head and meeting his soft gaze. He leans forward and captures your lips in a gentle kiss, brushing his thumb over your cheek before pulling away. “I love you. Thank you for taking care of the progeny while I was away. I know it’s not easy on your own.”

“Eh. She’s alright. She reads to me at bedtime.”

Spencer grins, eyes darting back to your lips. Several quick kisses are pressed there in succession, and it’s not exactly how he wanted to say good morning to you but that will have to wait until later.

“Ewww!”

Ada is at the door again, waffle in hand, making a half-disgust half-delight face before prancing back to the bed and receiving another airlift from Spencer up onto the mattress.

“What do you mean, ew?” he asks in mock offense as her legs swing in the air. “You’re next!”

You watch in unadulterated joy as he peppers little kisses all over her face and she pretends to hate it, squealing with glee.

“Is that for me?” he asks once she’s comfortably sharing his lap with you, pointing to the forgotten waffle. She holds it up, pressing the disk against his lips. Spencer takes a bite, makes an exaggerated yum sound, and kisses her forehead once more. “Thank you. That was delicious.”

“You have to eat all of it so you’ll grow up big and strong.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll do that. Why don’t you leave it on the nightstand and go find a book we can read together?”

“Game of Thrones!”

“No!” he laughs. “That book is way too grownup for you!”

“But I read the first three pages!”

“I know you did. And Auntie Penelope is still in big trouble for that. Go get Lord of the Rings.”

Full of energy despite the early hour, Ada skitters off again to find the book.

“She’s too smart for her own good,” you sigh, listening to her making up a song as she picks through the book shelf in the next room.

“Intelligence is generally more nurture than nature. If we act fast we could probably stunt her IQ to just two or three standard deviations above the average.”

You giggle, straddling him as he slips his hand under your shirt to rub your back. Then you try to school your features into a serious expression.

“Not funny.”

That big, lazy grin might never fade—and you’d be happy to look at it forever.

“You’re right. Not funny at all.”

“Hey,” you remember, grabbing his biceps. He raises his eyebrows expectantly. “I was gonna make you real breakfast. What do you want?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. I want to. So tell me what you want.”

“Anything other than a toaster waffle.”

You snort, moving to slide off the bed.

“We can probably make that happen.”

“Hey—" he catches your waist, pulling you closer. “Penelope is taking Ada to the park this afternoon. We’re gonna spend some time together, okay?”

After having an entire child together, you still get butterflies when he looks at you like that.

“What if I have plans this afternoon?”

Spencer doesn’t even look mildly concerned—just tilts his head, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“Then I’m asking you to cancel them, pretty girl. I owe you some undivided attention.”

You chew on your lip. It’s embarrassing how easily he can still fluster you.

“Right now I have to go find out why our child is being so quiet.”

He laughs, letting you slip from his grasp for good.

“She probably got into the Stephen King again.”

You pick up the waffle and gesture at him with it emphatically as you walk away.

“This is all your fault.”

“Mm… let’s call it a team effort.”

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

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wosoamazing · 3 months

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Sick

Summary: You get sick at training and no one can get a hold of Leah

Warnings: Sick, angst??, IDK

A/N: decided to give you all another fic. I hope you like this one, I don't know how good it is.... also please do send requests in, I want to make sure I'm writing things people will enjoy.

Training today just felt harder than usual, yes you had off days, but something was different, it wasn’t just that you weren’t playing as well, you were hotter, you were running out of breath quicker than usual, you head hurt slightly. Everyone around you noticed but didn’t want to say anything, your teenage hormones were at their peak currently, as Leah put it and you were quick to snap at anyone for no real reason. You stayed quite about it though and just tried to push through, that was until you felt like you were going to pass out and you decided you should probably sit down. So, you went up to Jonas.

“Y/N, how can I help you?”

“Umm, I’m just feeling a little hot, was just wondering if I could sit down for a bit,” “yeah sure why don’t you go inside to the dining room and sit down there, it will be cooler in there than out here, lunch is only 25 or so away anyway,” “Thanks Jonas,” you said, and you turned around, probably a little too fast as everything spun, you stumbled a little and shut your eyes, hoping that no one noticed you continued to make your way into the dining room and sat on one of the chairs, everything was still slightly spinning but it wasn’t too bad. Just as you were about to rest your head on the table you heard footsteps which grew louder, until they stopped, and Katie was standing next to you.

“Hey,” you mumbled.

“Hey, Jonas sent me in here to check on you. You okay?”

“No, I feel like crap” you replied. It was the truth. In an effort to feel better, you shut your eyes and rested your head on the table, it was cool to touch, Katie put her hand on the back of your neck, and she winced at the heat that was radiating off you.

“I think you need to go see a medic.”

“No, I’m fine.” you snapped.

“Okay, well I’ll leave you to it then,” she stood up starting to walk out.

“Katie,” you softly cried out, she looked back at you “can you stay?”

“Only if you let me get a medic to look at you,” she tried compromising.

“Fine.” You sighed. Katie messaged someone on her phone and a few minutes later one of the medics came in. “38.7, not too bad, get her to take two of these and try and see if you can get her sister to take her home, if she is still here in about 45 minutes, we will come check on her again. Also get her to drink the rest of that and another one at least” The medic said to Katie pointing at your water bottle, Katie nodded. “Oh, and have one of these,” Katie screwed her face up at the sight of the emesis bag she really couldn’t handle that type of sick, “look she shouldn’t need it but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Katie nodded agreeing with that statement. She got you to take two Panadol and to drink some water before you fell asleep. She did wake you every ten minutes to drink some more water however you didn’t really remember that.

“Hey, can you sit up for just a sec,” you look up to see the medic, she takes your temperature and checks your breathing. “39.1” the medic and Katie look at each other you place your head back on the table, and whimper slightly at the movement of your head, however the table felt nice on your head as it was cool.

“Where the fuck is Leah! Why isn’t she answering her phone,” Katie yelled becoming more furious with Leah by the second.

“Why don’t you just take her home?” Kim asked.

“Because Leah is a genius. Who doesn’t give their 16-year-old sister a key? and she refuses to let me take her to mine.” Katie replies

“You could call Sarina,” you decided to chime in.

“What’s her number though?” “Give it here,” you put Sarina’s number into Katies phone, Katie quickly pressed the call button and to her amusement Sarina picked up.

“Hi Sarina, its Katie McCabe, I am really sorry to be calling but we have Y/F/N here and she isn’t feeling well at all, and we have been trying to get a hold of Leah for 45 minutes but she won’t answer, and we understand she is doing important media duties however Y/N does have a temperature of 39.1C, and we think it would be best if she went home.” There was a pause, Sarina must’ve been talking “Okay, thank you so much, so sorry again. Bye”

“She’s coming,” everyone let out a sigh of relief, they hated seeing you so sick and helpless knowing that Leah was the one thing that might make you feel better.

“Leah?” you questioned, starting to cry.

“Yeah, she’s coming, like 10 minutes,” Katie said as she started to rub your back, you placed your head back on the table and continued to cry, you just felt so sick and wanted your sister.

“Hey, I’m here.” Leah said as she rounded the corner, her heart melting at the scene in front of her. You were still crying head on the table, Katie was still rubbing your back looking like she might cry at any moment, she just wanted to help, and she couldn’t.

“Oh, bug.” Leah cooed at the sight, and she continued towards you, you lifted you head up tears still falling. She kneeled down beside you and put her hand on your forehead, she winced and looked at Katie, “39.1 last we checked.”

“Bug, I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.” She said, ready to cry herself.

“Can we go home?” you whimpered, as she pulled you in for a hug, she noticed the slight dampness of your skin.

“Let me go talk to the medic first,” she said as she stood up.

“I’ll go get her stuff for you,” Lia said as she went to the locker room. The girls remaining all looked at each other, you couldn’t resist a smirk.

“Why do you have two bags Lia?” your sister questioned.

“Le, don’t do this, I’ve spoken to Jonas, and he agrees that you’re going to need help, come on I’ll drive you home.” She replied.

“Carry me?” you whined looking at your sister who sighed before picking you up and taking you home, the girls all made eyes at each other as the three of you walked out.

_______

“Le, I’m back” Lia said as she walked through the door. “We’re still in here.” Leah replied, she was sitting up against the head board of her bed, you had your head in her lap and your body laid parallel to the headboard, your training top was on the end of the bed and you were just in your crop top and training shorts, Leah had taken your shirt off in hopes of cooling you down, your sweaty body was making the sheets slightly damp, as she rain her fingers through your hair.

“Hey” Lia said softly as she walked into the room, carrying the bag of items she bought to help you. “What you got in there” Leah asked looking at the quite full bag.

“Just the essentials,” Lia pulled out some medicine first, then some hydrolyte, followed by a thermometer “I guessed you didn’t have one of these,” she pulled some more items out “Oh and I got some of these,” Leah’s brow furrowed at the sight of the emesis bags, “they might come in handy one day” Lia said as she shrugged.

“Thank you, Lia for everything not just for today” your sister replied.

“It’s no problem, how is she?”

“I don’t really know, she never gets sick it’s been years, I’m just really worried. Should we check her temperature again?” with of nod of Lia’s head they pulled the thermometer out of its packing and checked your temperature. “Shit,” Lia’s brow furrowed “39.5, what do we do Li, do we take her to the hospital, the doctor?” Leah said heartbroken a tear rolling down her check.

“She hasn’t had any medicine yet has she?” Lia questioned.

“I think they gave her some Panadol at the colony but other than that no”

“Okay well we’ll give her some ibuprofen, and help her take a lukewarm bath, and if her temperature hasn’t gone down or if it goes up after 30 minutes, we can take her to the hospital, how does that sound?” Leah just nodded agreeing with Lia, she just wanted to help you but in this moment she felt helpless. “You give her the medicine and I’ll start the bath”.

“Bug, can you wake up for me?” Leah said softly shaking you. You sat up, leaning against the headboard, resting you head on the wall.

“Here can you take this, it will help you feel better,” Leah said handing you two tablets and your water bottle, you took them and then went to lay back down on Leah, but she stopped you, as the bath was now ready.

“Bug we’re going to put you in the bath for a little while,” you groan at Leah’s words, she helps you up and places you in the bath still clothed. She let you sit there while she went to get the pair of you new clothes, nothing fancy of course, just some PJs. After your bath Leah helped you get changed before carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Oh, you didn’t have to Lia,” she said noticing Lia was just finishing off changing the sheets on the bed.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s all good, here have this” she said as she placed a pillow down for you and Leah. You laid between the two girls with your head resting on Leah’s arm, they rechecked your temperature and it was now back to 39.1, they weren’t super happy with it but happy enough not to take you to the hospital, you spent the next four days in bed sick, Leah and Lia both trying to help you get better.

#woso x reader #woso community #arsenal wfc #woso #woso fanfics #katie mccabe #leah williamson #lia walti #woso imagine

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wonysugar · 5 months

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fuck you stupid | ning yizhuo

synopsis : you thought you’d seen it all with her, but no, she somehow managed to surprise you even further.

pairing : bimbo!ningning x fem!reader

genre : bffs to... fwb?? idk they just fuck,, so obviously smut too! xx

tags : yall got lost help, fingering, degradation, belittling, dumbification, car sex, she's so stupid but she fucks you good so it's okay, very slight cunnilingus, she slaps you like once so impact play!

warnings : none!

word count : 1.6k

you, y/n l/n, weren’t exactly smart, but you also weren’t exactly stupid. like yeah, you weren’t a genius per se, but it’s not like you were brain dead either. average was the term you always used to describe your intelligence.

you unfortunately couldn’t say the same about ning yizhuo, your best friend.

you loved her, like that’s your bitch, of course you love her! however, you’d be lying if you said that she was intellectually capable, because she just wasn’t. god, she was just so, so painfully stupid?? clumsy??? careless???? all of the above applied when it came to this woman. not even to be mean or anything of the sorts, just, yknow… natural selection at its finest.

she was aware of that, though, and even thrived in being the self proclaimed bimbo everyone knew and loved. (to which you wholeheartedly agree with, by the way) and honestly? you just couldn’t stop teasing her about it whenever you two hung out. things similar to “stupid hoe” and “dumbass” always escaping your mouth as you two laughed, probably moments after she bumped onto something on the sidewalk whilst spilling all the tea to you.

in summary, she’s done stupid shit before, but nothing, nothing could ever top what she had done that day.

the day she got the both of you lost in some random parking lot at like, 2 am.

“ning, we’re fucking lost.” you told her, eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you watched her giggle nervously.

she grabbed her cellphone and hovered her finger over the power button, “oh come on y/n don’t be like that, i can just go on google maps and we’ll be out of here in no ti-“

a black screen.

she cleared her throat hesitantly, sighed, then pressed the button again.

nothing.

she kept doing that, giving longer presses to the side of her phone in hopes of a miracle . your patience was running thin and you were quite frankly not far from panicking.

after the 27th-ish try, you finally snapped at her.

“fucking hell ning do you not charge your damn phone??”

“sorry that i forgot to?”

oh she had to be joking.

“girl oh my god what the fuck?? we’ll stay stuck here for only god knows how long and it’s all gonna be because ‘ning yizhuo forgot to charge her phone beforehand’ for fuck’s sake.” you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. trying to calm down, you ignored ning’s gaze.

her stupid annoying yapping wasn’t helping at all. like, at all.

“oh so we’re once again blaming me, got it. y/n you didn’t even bring your own phone, how do you have the audacity to put the blame on me.” she said back, her eyebrow raised up as she threw her phone down on her skirt, sighing exasperatedly.

“because someone told me it was her turn to get the aux.”

“where in that sentence did i ever tell you not to bring your phone??”

“god, ning just- just stay quiet. okay? just- please shut up, i’m trying to think. we can’t rely on you for anything.” you told her, exasperated.

in response, she scoffed, “no?? no i won’t, actually. you’re always putting the blame on me and it’s seriously starting to piss me the fuck off. yeah i’m a bimbo, whatever, but does that mean that you have to talk to me like i only have two barely functioning brain cells??”

“oh please, saying you have two functioning brain cells would be wayy too generous. you’re always doing the stupidest shit out of the two of us. i mean fuck, you literally drove us here, in the middle of nowhere. you’re not a bimbo, you’re just fucking dumb, ning.”

when you looked back at her, she seemed hurt. like,

a wave of guilt quickly washed over you upon seeing her pained, pained expression. she looked into your eyes, frustration and sadness clearly showing into her own. yeah, she looked pissed. you wanted to apologize almost immediately, and you were going to,

if she didn’t suddenly press her lips onto yours before you could even get a word out.

how do best friends make up after a fight?

usually, they talk it out, they go out, hug it out then get milkshakes or whatever, hell, sometimes they just go a day or two without talking then eventually forget about it.

this? this was none of that.

since she planted a kiss on your lips, you, instead of doing anything stated above, were fucking.

like, yeahh you were still lost, but at least you were getting your pussy ravaged. the situation could be handled later; when you weren’t drenched.

throwing your head back as you moaned out ning’s name, you were straddling her in the backseat of her car, feeling her two fingers deep inside you and stretching you out. she looked up at you with lustfully hooded eyes as she kissed and left very visible marks all over your neck, all the way down to your collarbone, her free hand fondling your tits, lazily playing with the nipple.

“f-fuck ning keep going i’m sososo close- fuckfuckfuck..” feeling yourself getting pushed closer to the edge by the friction you felt, you bucked your hips faster onto her digits. the knot tying in your stomach felt like it would’ve snapped any second now, that is,

until she stopped moving her fingers altogether.

frustrated, you whined loudly, “ninggg please let me cum pleaseplease-”

“oh yeah? so now you wanna rely on me for something, and it’s to make you cum?” she laughed. “fucking slut. i’ll make you cum whenever i want to, got it, bitch?” she added, pressing her thumb on your swollen throbbing clit, smirking condescendingly and watching how pretty you looked when pleasure contorted your face.

you unintentionally clenched at her words, nodding shamefully. it was embarrassing enough having your best friend knuckles deep inside of you, having her call you names and whatnot, but the real embarrassing part?

enjoying it thoroughly.

she knew this, she knew she had you wrapped around her finger at that moment and oh was it such a power trip for her. seeing you be so needy for her touch, you almost started riding her fingers yourself, too. she was always the one being treated like a dumb bitch, it was nice being on the other side of things, for a change.

she kept twisting and pulling on your nipple with her free hand as she slowly started to slide her fingers up and down your walls again, giggling and paying close attention to how your body shook and twitched at each and every one of her slow movements. what a sight to see.

“you like being fucked stupid hm?”

and that’s what she did,

seconds,

minutes,

what felt likes hours,

you were sloppily bouncing and grinding on her fingers, speed ranging from a painful slowness to an overwhelming rapidity.

you gripped her arms tightly, as if you would fall into some sort of void if you didn’t hold onto her for dear life. resting your head on her shoulder, you whined, losing yourself onto her. her fingers were still pumping in and out of you at that moment, faster than they were before, by the way, so it took you all of your body strength to not just cum right then and there, but you managed to hold back. for her, you held back and took all of it. every minute passing, every single motion feeling like it was threatening to make you go insane.

“ning pleaseplease let me cum i wanna cum so badly fuck- pleasepleasepleasepleaseee-” you begged, looking down at her with pleading teary eyes.

“fuck, look at you. calling me a dumb bitch all the time, yet here you are, acting oh so stupid for my fingers. such a brainless needy little whore for me, hm? does my idiotic, pretty girl wanna cum?”

you nodded eagerly as you whined, tears actively running down both of your cheeks, so desperate for release that you quite honestly didn’t care for how ridiculous you looked to her at that moment. you just wanted to cum, so, so, so badly, and you were ready to give up your dignity for it.

the sound of her hand slapping your cheek resonated in the car.

“say it. you know damn well i don’t accept pathetic sounds for an answer.”

“fuck— your idiotic pretty girl wants to cum pleaseee let her–”

she hummed, smirking at your response. incredibly amused by your behavior, she took her fingers out of you, picked you up by placing her hands on your thighs, then gently put you on the empty seat that was next to the one she occupied. upon seeing you sat comfortably, she proceeded to kneel down on the empty space between the front seats and the backseats. y’know,

the ones a grown woman couldn’t possibly fit in?

it’s okay though, like, yeah she would most definitely complain about back pain later, but right now?

she needed to feel you cum all over her tongue.

and that’s exactly what she worked towards, her tongue driven by the scent of your arousal to roam all over your folds and clit, kissing and sucking on every inch of your core as she attentively listened to all the sweet noises that came out of you. it really did not take long before your moans reached octaves you didn’t even know you could achieve before, an overwhelming wave of relief hitting you like a truck. you were 100% sure you would pass out afterwards.

at the end of the day, yeah, you both were still stranded in the middle of some unknown parking lot, but at least, the stress of it all evaporated in the air.

while you were trying to catch your breath, you made a mental note;

never underestimate ning’s intelligence when she was in a bad mood! or, do. depending on if you wanna get fucked stupid that day or not.

#smut #kpop gg #female reader #aespa smut #ningning #ningning aespa #ning yizhuo #ningning x female reader #ningning x reader #aespa #aespa ningning #ningning aespa smut #ning yizhuo x female reader

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beefboyandbabygirl · 11 months

Text

Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?

description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",

wordcount: 12.0k

a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye

It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you.

But that’s out there.

You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers.

“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.

Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.

“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.

You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment.

“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow.

“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.

Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.

“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.”

The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it.

You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.

“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.

You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth.

“Jihoon, wait-”

You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.

“Jihoon!”

Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd.

You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here.

It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.

And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.

Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?”

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?”

Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket.

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.”

And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.

“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh.

Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that?

You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit.

“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.

Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.

“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!”

“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.”

“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.

“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little.

“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-

“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!”

“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.

There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:

“Girl Code Rule #1

Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”

There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students.

“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit.

“Girl Code Rule #2

Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4

It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”

They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.

“Girl Code Rule #5

The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.

“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage.

“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!”

There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.

“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully: “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…”

“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.

“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-”

“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss.

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.

“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly.

“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.

“Seul?”

“Yep.”

And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.”

“You’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?” _____________________________

You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.

It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.

You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.”

“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.”

And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board.

Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows.

As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await.

Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.”

“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?”

Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you.

“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies.

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”

“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.”

“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..”

You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.”

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.”

There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her?

Holy hell.

“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!”

There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips.

And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more.

“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.

“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-”

“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.”

“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.”

There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you.

Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”

This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.

“We deserve that.” _____________________________

You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…

But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed.

You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?”

And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!”

“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.”

And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.”

You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.

And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you?

“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?”

“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed.

“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”

You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.

Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?”

Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.

“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!”

It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.”

Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation.

You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.

You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.”

Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.”

“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you.

“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you.

“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.

“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims.

Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?”

Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.”

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!”

“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!”

“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!”

Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.

The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.

Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!

And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker.

“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…”

The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too.

“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?”

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!”

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.

Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.”

“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!”

“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!”

Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.

Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.”

You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”

“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.”

You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.

“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes.

He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you. _____________________________

“What is going on?!”

It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.

“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…”

“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!”

You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-

“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’.

“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”

You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”

You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”

“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich.

“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!”

Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.

“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily.

“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.

“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head.

“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.

“What?”

“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.

“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.

“I know everything,” Mingu says ominously, giggling evilly.

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.”

“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:

“Unlovable.”

Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.

“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.

“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!”

“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.

“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.” _____________________________

Indeed, it is happening.

The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.

You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on.

Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you?

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..”

Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-”

“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”

“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this.

“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice-

You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!”

“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?”

“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-”

“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!”

“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.

“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.

“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you.

“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.”

“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?”

Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.”

“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?”

You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.

“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word.

There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet.

“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.”

“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.

“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.”

You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh.

“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!”

You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile.

“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.

“So you asked for me?”

“Hm?”

“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?”

“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.”

“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?”

You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where-

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house.

You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have.

You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.

Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?” _____________________________

“Jihoon?”

You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers.

He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.

“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.”

This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.

“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.”

Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.

“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?”

He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.”

“Oh.”

You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street.

“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.

“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch.

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor.

Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring.

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.

“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-”

“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-”

“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-”

“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him.

There are flowers in his hands.

It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code.

“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.

“I’m good.”

He nods.

“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”

It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers.

“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?”

“Yes,” is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.

“Yes?”

“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

“But- you and Wonwoo-?”

“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.

“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?”

You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.

Jihoon needs to kiss you. He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest.

His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted, cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love.

You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.

“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.”

“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.”

He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy.

And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you.

As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again.

You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy.

“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it.

Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.

“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy.

Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him.

You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?”

You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-”

“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts.

“Sorry, it was just-”

“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.”

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?”

You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers.

He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously.

He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit.

“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.

And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.

He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.

“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.

You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?”

You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth.

Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side.

“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.”

“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling.

“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again.

His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.”

“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile.

“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.”

He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.”

You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.”

He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.”

You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan.

“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-”

“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.

You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?”

The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?”

“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.”

“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.”

And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.

The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you.

You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively.

There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious.

“... Are you still hard?”

He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?” _____________________________

“So,” Yeri trails off.

You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised.

“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along.

“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.”

“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing.

There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.”

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..”

“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse.

“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”

Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior.

Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.”

“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins.

“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.

“Begging always works!”

#svt smut #svt x reader #woozi smut #woozi angst #woozi fluff #woozi x reader #svt woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #jihoon x reader #jihoon smut #svt angst

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jennifer-jeong · 2 months

Note

Reader plays LDS game and little does she know that the boys can feel her emotions whenever she plays it or whenever she gets the card or memories of her fav boy for example-Zayne and the other two gets jealous idk and how they wish to be real and be with her.......

HELLO I'M SORRY THIS TOOK ME A HOT SECOND I was stressing and thinking about how to approach this but I think I got it now >:) (also school and life is kicking my ass but we don't talk about that)

[Fluff] [Love and Deepspace x Reader] "Virtual" Boyfriend

Rafayel sneak peak LMAOOO^

CONTENT Fluff, slight angst, gender neutral reader, Rafayel crack, mentions of the boys trauma, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

What I’m thinking is that the boys are conscious within the world of your phone. They can feel you and hear you but they can’t quite see you. You’re almost invisible in a way but they can feel your energy when you’re present. They feel it when you poke them in destiny cafe or touch them in the kindled memories. They hear your voice when you speak in game. They’ve lived the lives outlined for them in their lore and you’re who they’ve been searching for. They’re restricted in what they can say to you when you interact, it's some weird force they don’t understand. They know when you’re online but the same weird force prevents them from finding you, you have to go to them. (Zayne lives both lives of doctor and dawnbreaker, which he is happy about. He would’ve passed away if he had to be the one of two Zaynes to be dawnbreaker)

XAVIER hates that whoever made this world made him suffer for like a century only to have him find you and you aren’t even actually there. But he still loves feeling you there everyday, even if he's not the one that got chosen to sit in destiny cafe. Whenever you listen to his audios or interact with him through cards, destiny cafe, or playtime, his hands are shaky. It’s the only thing that he actually gets to express to you of his own free will. They shake because he’s so nervous but excited to finally be with you. He’s a patient man, he’s willing to wait for you everyday, he just wishes he could be where you actually are ): . He’s a smart man with an excess of free time, he’ll figure out how to get to you, someday.

ZAYNE has spent his whole life in this world in love with you. But now that he’s got you, and he can’t even see you, he’s started to accept that you’re just always going to be out of his reach. He loves when you do visit though, it makes him feel so warm. When you interact with him, he wants so badly to just be able to freely speak to you and tell you how much he loves you. His character is pretty cold because that is his personality, but when he sees you, he desperately wants to stop being distant with you, he wants to tell you all the soft and warm things he has to say. He wants to be where you actually are, he’s sick of basically just being Dawnbreaker Zayne where he just dreams of you and never gets to see you. He’s solved so many mysteries in the medical and wanderer hunting world though, he’s probably genius enough to figure this one out too.

RAFAYEL has been looking for you this whole time and is so frustrated that he found you and can’t even freely speak to you. Rafayel often ends up in glitches in the game because he desperately wants to break out of his confines and just talk to you. Every time you interact, he’s trying to find some way to tell you he loves you and that he’ll always be here no matter what. He gets pretty jealous when he doesn’t get to sit in destiny cafe with you, he doesn’t know who exactly sits in his place but he wants to be the only one you have eyes for, the only one that you touch, even if it’s not quite “touching.” He’s already lost everything he has except for you. He’s willing to do anything to get to you, he just hasn’t figured out how to do it, yet.

Rafayel glitch collection:

+ THIS video LMAOO

Personal follow up hc that they can interact with you when you daydream of them!!! It’s the only way they can reach you and feel you properly. Pretend they eventually figure this out and you live happily ever after !!! (cope)

Photo credits from twitter! https://x.com/nonbiriotome/status/1754530273033683337?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4ghttps://x.com/miyabi_lad/status/1754318127339639244?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4ghttps://x.com/zaynerei/status/1760258500746445149?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4ghttps://x.com/xaviersdaily/status/1759516449758908615?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4ghttps://x.com/yubeljin/status/1752770210124210303?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4g

Thank you for the ask and for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace crack #xavier x reader #xavier fluff #xavier crack #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne crack #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel crack #my asks <3 #j's silly ramblings

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muniimyg · 3 months

Text

TO BE (yours) // KNJ

he'll give in... right?

oc has always had a crush on her bodyguard, nam joon. when her monthly family dinner goes to shit, she turns to him for comfort. tonight, it was different. tonight, he just might give her exactly what she wants

navi | m. list | ask me !

pairing: bodyguard nam joon + heiress oc

au/genre:

bodyguard au

one shot

porn with(out) plot

warnings: oc has some grandma issues, oc is insanely unhinged (oc makes nam joon watch as she pleasures herself), masturbation/fingering (oc makes him hold her hand while she fingers herself), nipple play, blow job (oc chokes), slapping (of face and ass) and riding... name calling (joon calls her a slut, whore, and bitch), cockwarming ?? making out,, yeah idk ! find the rest out for urself ;)

note: happy birthday @joonsjuice LMAO

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

“I hate this fucking life!”

Before you can slam your bedroom door shut, a foot is placed to prevent you from doing so.

You huff, knowing exactly who is following you.

There was no point putting up a fight. Regardless of what you do, you know exactly how he would handle you. So, you move on. You focus on your feelings and the stress wrapped around it. As you take off your skirt and unbutton your blouse, he makes his way to his regular position.

Nam Joon stands beside the door, feet firmly planted on the ground, his hands placed in front, and his gaze straight ahead. If this was any other bodyguard, their presence would irritate you and ignite your anger even more… But this was Nam Joon.

It’s different.

Oddly enough, there's a sense of comfort when he's around. It feels like it's okay for you to be angry and throw a tantrum. He'd cover for you. He'd protect you. He'd deal with you.

Regardless, this is routine.

Once a month, you attend your infamous grandmother’s family dinner. There, you’d share your company’s progress and plans, and receive criticism.

No praise.

No empathy.

No encouragement.

It is never good enough for her. Even though you have a more successful business than your siblings and cousins—it meant nothing To your grandmother, it didn’t matter.

It always better.

To do better.

To be better.

After these horrendous dinners, you’d go home in tears. The pressure she’d put on you is often unnecessary, but you feel it. To your very core, you feel how intense the need to please her is.

Sometimes, you were angry. Often, you were sad.

For comfort, you’d typically contact your family friend, Jung Hoseok for some… Release. Sometimes, it was talking things through. Other times, it included fucking… But those nights were rare.

During those times, Nam Joon would wait outside the door. It made you wonder that night if he liked what he heard… Or if he felt jealous…

If he even gave it a second thought at all.

You see…

You’ve been unhinged since birth. By your grandmother’s orders, she hired a bodyguard service for you. To keep you in check or whatever (as if you’re this wild child that isn’t running the biggest company in your family). To keep you safe. To keep an eye on you. To keep you from doing bad things.

Sucks to suck because the only bad thing you want to do is your bodyguard.

Thank you, Grandma!

When Nam Joon came into your life, it felt like Christmas. He’s tall, handsome, smart, and funny in his own ways. If anything, he’s perfect for you. Aside it being his job, you really feel like he knows you. Your next moves and even your feelings—he’s good at predicting and protecting them.

It’s like not you could hide your intentions and attraction either. No, you take any and every chance to flirt with him.

Truth be told, you really need him to dick you down.

“Crazy how I’m literally changing in front of you and you would rather look at the wall,” you tease, as you unclip your bra and throw it at his head.

Nam Joon removes your bra from his head and continues to stay silent. Him ignoring you is something he does when he knows your emotions are high.

Rolling your eyes, you open your closet and grab your pajamas. You chose wisely, of course… You noticed Nam Joon’s eyes linger a little longer when you wear flimsy things. So, that’s exactly what you wear tonight.

A little ditzy floral pyjama set.

The fabric itself is thin and tight, making it easy for your nipples and the curve of your breast to be outlined. The shorts are practically panties… Guess you won’t be needing underwear either, right?

Once you put on the top, you bend down to take your underwear off. You throw it back, aiming for his head again. Perfectly, it lands just where you want it to.

“Oops! Sorry, I meant to get that in my laundry bin.” You explain, laughing as you put the shorts on.

You see Nam Joon’s shoulders rise and fall. He sighs, as he takes your underwear off of his head and places it in your laundry bin for you.

Cutely, you bump into him as you make your way to bed. Nam Joon purses his lips at you, almost feeling the need to choke when he sets his eyes on your pajamas.

You were doing this on purpose.

He knows it.

Tilting your head at him, you ask, “Do you like it?”

Nam Joon clears his throat as he stands to the side. Gestures at your bed, he ignores your question but replies with; “you’ve had a long day, Ms. ___. Please go to bed.”

“You know what else is long?”

“Ms. ___—”

“Oh, come on!” you whine, as you drop to your knees. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve asked.”

“It’s also not the first time I’m saying no,” he chuckles. Then, he bends down, grabs you by the waist, and lifts you.

Your heart begins to race as he carries you.

He’s done this only a couple of times—more because you were having a temper-tantrum and he had to remove you from the environment. There was also this one time when you were crying so much at your grandmother’s dinner table that he swooped in like a knight in shining armour. That was probably the day you felt something for him…

A feeling beyond your wet pussy, that is.

Nam Joon sets you gently on your bed. As you lay, you reach for his hand. He turns to you and blinks.

“Joon…”

“Did you need something?”

“You.”

He squints his eyes at you.

“Go to sleep, Ms. ___.”

“Awh, come on!” you cry as he leaves your side. You miss your heart fluttering already. “You don’t even have to make me cum—”

With a warning tone, he interrupts you. “Goodnight, Ms. ___.”

Annoyed, you shift around your bed and attempt to make yourself comfortable. Unfortunately for you, all you can think about are your grandmother’s harsh words from tonight's dinner and the silence of your siblings and cousins whose lips did not even twitch to defend you.

Your grandmother’s invasive words begin to consume you. The feeling is… Horrible. It was rough, to say the least. Maybe, instead of distracting yourself… You could use Nam Joon for something else.

“Do you think my grandma hates me?” you ask with a weary tone.

Nam Joon reaches over to dim your bedroom lights and takes his time to walk back to his placement. As he does so, he thinks about it. This was also routine of you….

To hit on him, to get sad and look for comfort, and then finally go to sleep. It wasn’t every night—just the family dinner ones. On the regular, it would just be you making one or two flirtatious commentaries and then falling asleep as soon as possible.

Moments where you look for validation and comfort he thinks these are the purest moments of you. The fact that you’re about to rest, but can’t because you’re reflecting on the things that make you feel uneasy… Well, let’s just say that it’s on the list of reasons why he hasn’t quit his job. Aside from liking his profession, he also likes you.

There’s never a dull moment.

“I think she just wants you to be the best.” He answers plainly. “She just doesn’t express it well.”

You sigh. “So that means what I do right now isn’t the best? It’s not good enough? Is that it?”

“No,” Nam Joon shakes his head. “I think she expects more because you are more. The potential she wants from you is real because it lives in you. She’s impatient about seeing it, but business is all about growth and building. Ms. ___, you know you’re amazing, right? You’re perfect. Your grandmother could never hate you even though it may feel like it.”

Snickering, you cross your arms. “Are you just saying that because you’re on her payroll?”

“No,” he assures you. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. Besides, you’re smart enough to know when I’m lying anyway.”

His words hit you.

Suddenly feel better. There’s no other way of explaining why. Sometimes, all you really need is a friend… But being friends with Nam Joon?

You hate that.

“... So, you think I’m amazing?”

Nam Joon doesn’t respond.

So, you try again.

“If I’m so amazing… Then, why don’t you want me? No one’s here, you know! It’s just you and me. Nothing bad is gonna happen… You don’t need to protect me—”

“Ms. ___—”

“I’ve wanted you for so long… You know it too! Come on, I know you just as well as you know me—“

“Highly doubt that, princess.”

“I want to know you… All of you,” you confess, quickly getting out of bed. You stand in front of him and look up at him. Batting your eyelashes, you try to sound as innocent as possible. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

Nam Joon feels a shiver.

He gulps as you place your hand on his chest, slowly moving it around to feel him. In an even slower motion, you begin to slide your hand down from his chest to his abdomen. He lowers his gaze at you as you give him pleading eyes. Gulping, he watches your hands make their way to his belt.

Then, he stops you.

Just as you’re about to unbuckle it, he grabs your wrists and pulls you up.

“I don’t want you.”

His words cut deep and his tone is harsh.

Too harsh.

There’s a look in his eyes that you’re well aware of. In that understanding, you don’t feel so awful anymore. So, you keep your head high. If he wants to play like this, then so be it.

Let’s play.

“Good thing I’m smart and I know when you’re lying.” You then place your hand on his cheeks and squish his lips together. Tiptoeing, you place a small kiss on his lips.

Nam Joon is caught off guard.

This never happened before! It never went this far…

He thought he was immune to you. In a cliché sense, he didn’t this would happen. He’d be an idiot to not recognize that sexual tension between you two since the very beginning—but he never pictured it like this.

He never pictured his dreams to come true.

Just as Nam Joon is about to give in, you pull away.

It’s then that he hates himself. He wishes he spent more time memorizing the way your lips felt against his. Who knows if you’d ever do this to him again, right? This was a once-in-a-million for him.

You’re his one.

“Since you want to stand there and watch… Fine. Stand there and watch.”

Without saying another word, you twirl his tie in your hand and gentle tug him to follow as you make your way back to your bed. Nam Joon doesn’t really move though. He stays still, only letting his head turn as you let go of his tie. He watches with lustful eyes as you crawl onto your bed. Positioning yourself, you lean your back against your headboard and sit up in a way where you can comfortably plant your feet. Nam Joon’s eyes almost fall out of his head the second you suck on your fingers, open your legs, and shove your lubed fingers inside your shorts.

Nam Joon feels stuck.

He should look away, right? For some reason, he can’t. He has looked the other way every time you changed or tried to kiss him… Tonight, was different.

Tonight, he was weak.

As you let out a breathy moan, you begin to rub yourself.

Feeling the way your soft pussy is against your fingers, you whimper at the thought of Nam Joon caving and taking his place in between your legs. You apply some pressure and rub circles on your clit. Doing this begins slowly, but as you stare at Nam Joon in his suit, you can’t help but feel sensations in your pelvis. You rub yourself faster, feeling your legs tighten as you do so.

You rub yourself for what feels like a good 5 minutes. Noticing how quiet it suddenly became and how he’s not making any comments, you take this opportunity to tease him.

With a small voice, you ask, “N-Nam Joon… A-are y-you watching?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Can y-you look at me, p-please?” you stutter through the sensation. “I’m touching my pussy for you… So you have to be watching, okay? This is for you.”

Expecting silence, Nam Joon surprises you with his words.

“I’m watching, princess.”

You feel a relief.

In an even softer tone, you whine, “Good. D-do you like it? Do you like what you see? Am I doing it right?”

“Yeah,” he confesses. “Doing so good, princess. Don’t stop.”

Biting your lip, you spread your legs out even more. As you rub yourself, you squirm from the feeling of this not being enough.

Meanwhile, Nam Joon feels like he’s stuck in a trance. He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you pleasure yourself. He wishes to do it for you… But not yet. A part of him is curious to see how far you can push yourself. How much can you take? How far will you go? He wants to know when he’s needed… He wants to wait it out and let you have this.

“My pussy is leaking through my shorts… Is it pretty?”

Nam Joon’s breath hitches. “Yeah. It’s pretty.”

“I’m glad you think so… I’m thinking of you. You made this mess.”

The truth is, he’s afraid when you give this to him… He won’t be able to quit. He’ll be selfish. He’ll have you any way he wants and ignore what you want. So, this is him being considerate. This is him being patient. This is him letting you have your fun.

“Should I stick my fingers inside?”

He utters a hiss... Yet, with a soft tone, he encourages you, “Do what you want.”

“I need help.”

Nam Joon huffs. “You can do it yourself. If you can start this, you can finish.”

You groan, throwing your head back. “A-arghh, fine… Can you hold my hand though?”

He raises a brow.

But he also picks up his feet and makes his way to you.

He stands on the side of your bed and offers you his hand. Gladly, you take it. With your other hand, you split your folds open. Tugging on his hand, you pout.

“Can you spit on it? I would do it but… Your spit would help me cum faster.”

Too stunned to speak, Nam Joon sucks his inner cheek, runs his tongue along his teeth, and gathers spit from the back of his throat. He then leans over and—

“Mhmm,” you moan, massaging his spit in your pussy. “Fuck, that got me so horny. Are you horny?”

Nam Joon glares at you.

“Hurry up and cum,” he hisses. “ I’m supposed to be watching—”

“You are, aren’t you?”

Nam Joon gets the feeling you’re alluding to something completely different from his job. It makes him sick to his stomach that he’s fucking into it. God, did you have to be this compelling? All he can do is push you away… At least, try to.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

You let a small laugh escape your lips. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs.

“Nam Joon, you’re holding my hand, spitting on my pussy, and about to watch me finger myself… Me asking you if you’re horny is where you’re deciding this is ridiculous—”

“___, just fucking cum already.”

Instantly, you roll your eyes at him.

The attitude.

He needs his dick sucked or something.

In response, you wiggle your fingers at him. He gives you a blank expression and turns away for a moment. You take that as your sign to start. With one finger, you insert it inside you. Your pussy clenches and your reaction extends to you squeezing Nam Joon’s hand. As you finger yourself, you try to focus on hitting your climax.

It’s much more frustrating than it is easy. The man whose cock you desperately want inside of you is just fucking standing there while your fingers do you no justice.

So, in the silence of your dimly lit bedroom, you shut your eyes and imagine him more intensely. You imagine Nam Joon’s fingers inside you. You imagine how his lips would feel against your skin. How his soft tongue would feel like giving your clit kitten licks. You moan at the very thought, and get excited over the fact that he’s actually here. Even though he’s not touching you the way you want right now, at least he was here.

He was watching.

Listening to every whimper.

Every breathy utter of his name.

Then, you feel the sensation in between your legs take over. You pump your fingers faster and lazily begin to rub yourself to finish off. You squirm, murmuring his name in between breaths.

Nam Joon can’t stop watching the way your pussy spreads and how tiny your fingers are. Every time you squeeze his hand, his eyes dart to the way your pussy gets more swollen. On top of that, he loves the way your chest rises. Your nipples are so fucking hard right now.

He’d kill to lick them.

To bite them.

To suck on them.

Fuck it.

Maybe he should fold.

So lost in thought, he misses it. In a blink of an eye, you cum and let out a lewd moan. As you catch your breath, you let go of his hand and massage your pussy.

“Are you finished?” Nam Joon asks.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, I guess. It was fun but honestly? I’m still horny.”

“Not good enough?”

“You tell me,” you grab his hand and tug him to your pussy.

He didn’t expect it.

It’s too late for him. By the time he registered what you were doing, his fingers were already inbetween your folds. You hold his wrist and control the way he touches you. Dragging his hands up and down, you feel tingles begin again.

“See? I came, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Nam Joon stutters for the first time tonight. “So wet.”

You scoff. “I usually cum more than this… This is so weird! I don’t get what I did wrong. I thought of you as usual—”

“Princess…” He takes his hand away, signaling you that you’re crossing the line. Shrugging, you offer him an innocent look. “Don’t.”

“Taste me,” you suggest. “If you don’t like the way I taste then you can go back to your little spot over there and do whatever you want. You can keep listening and watching me pleasure myself… But just know, I won’t cum for a long time. I’m horny as fuck but I just can’t get off all by myself! It’s too hard… Deal?”

“Deal? You’re insane,” he grumbles. “Do you hear yourself?”

“I do…” you assure him. “Do you hear me? Because it doesn’t have to be like that. You can stand over there—hey, I’ll even let you jerk off—or you can do it yourself. Make me cum. Fuck me as hard as you can. Take what you want. Your choice.”

Nam Joon gulps as you sit up and wrap your arms around his neck. Tilting your head at him, you look into his eyes and wait for his decision.

Nam Joon waits for a second too long.

Your gaze softens as you take his silence as a no. That’s okay. You can just keep touching yourself and drag it out longer. It’d be fun for you anyway… This was his loss.

As you pull away, just as you’re about to lay down, Nam Joon cups your cheeks and crashes his lips against yours. He kisses you deep, slipping his tongue in. You waste no time, finding his tongue and sucking on it as he pull away for air. You smile against his kiss, and continue to make out with him. His hands travel from your cheeks to your breast and holy shit.

You’re so fucking happy.

He palms your breasts and pays special attention to your nipples. They’re so hard and sensitive. He knows it. So, he takes his time.

First, he pitches them lightly. You gasp and he laughs into the kiss. Mumbling, “sorry, sorry… my bad, princess,” into your kiss. He runs his thumb over your nipples, stimulating your drive evn more. He then twists them and earns another gasp from you. This time, a moan follows. Next, he cups your entire breast with his hands and squeezes them. Pulling away from the kiss, he scrunches your top over your breasts and dives in.

He licks your nipples, slaps your breasts, and bites them.

God, when he bites them—

“O-okay, okay,” you stop him, “gonna need you to start fucking me or else I’m gonna cum with you just doing this.”

“Like me that much?” he teases.

You glare at him. “Might lose interest after seeing your dick though.”

With that, Nam Joon folds.

He towers over you, as your hands instantly make their way to unbutton his shirt. Midway through, he kisses you. It’s deep and desperate—like he has wanted this for so long too.

When his shirt is off, you move on to unbuckle his belt. You do it as quickly as possible, ever so happy to finally be able to see his length. Taking his pants off, he tosses them aside.

You can’t believe it.

His cock is so perfect.

It’s chiseled like it’s meant to be art.

“Okay, y-yeah,” you choke. “I’m interested.”

Before he can even respond, Nam Joon throws his head back from the pleasure of you sucking his dick. Holy shit, you just went for it.

As your mouth wraps around his tip, you take in how he tastes. The precum that sat in the crease of his tip was a little salty. He tastes even better the more you suck. His cock in your mouth is so big. It’s full, girthy, and long. Without needing to try, his length hits the back of your throat multiple times. With teary eyes, you gag, choke, and slobber all of his fat cock.

Like a fucking dog.

Like a fucking bitch.

Like his fucking whore.

Nam Joon loves the sight.

He takes a handful of your hair and fucks himself deeper in your pretty mouth. This time, when his cock hits the back of your throat, he holds you still. You breathe in through your nose, sucking as much of him as you can. When you let out an intense gasp for air, he pulls away and feels his stomach twist as strings of your saliva drip.

Nam Joon repositions you.

He lays down on his back and places you on top of him. There, you let your hands roam his chest as he helps you take your shorts off. His pecks are large and rock-hard. You love the way they feel and as he takes heavy breaths in, you note the way his abs flex.

It’s such a beautiful sight.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Nam Joon scoffs, as he reaches for his dick. He pumps himself lazily before placing it at your entrance. “Want me so bad? Let’s see how much. Do you think you can last bouncing on my cock? You barely lasted 10 minutes fingering yourself. You were thinking about me too, right? Holding my hand and shit? Have you always been a fucking whore?”

You pout, nodding. “Yeah. I am such a fucking whore for you… I’ve been so patient. Did I wait well?”

Without warning, Nam Joon slaps you in the face.

“This is about me,” he growls. “You want me. You have me. You get to fuck me. Get that? You waited, and you got the prize. Me. Shut the fuck up and do your fucking job, slut. I’ll praise you when I want. Don’t ask for it. Understand?”

You nod.

He slaps your face again.

“Answer me, bitch.”

You bite your bottom lip. “I understand.”

“Good,” Nam Joon says, satisfied. “Whenever you’re ready…”

You purse your lips, asking for one more kiss. He kisses you, and as he does so, you take his cock and try to put it in. For some reason, perhaps because of how wet you are, his cock keeps slipping or your hole is just too fucking small for him. When he realizes what’s going on, he sits up a little.

In a low tone, he offers, “Here, I’ll help you put it in.”

You look at him as he guides it in. You watch how soft his gaze turns the minute you sink into his member. You swear he feels the butterflies too. As you adjust to his size, you begin to move a little. Rolling your hips, you also add a little bounce. For stability, you place your hands on his chest.

“That’s it,” he moans, “my slut is such a good girl.”

“Mhmm,” you breathe, “s-so good. You fill me up so good, Joon.”

As you ride him, you begin to feel more and more desperate for his cock to fuck you. This entire time, you had been doing all the work and goddamn it’s fucking exhausting. You slam your pussy onto his dick visciously, picking up the pace and trying to catch your orgasm—but you get so fucking tired.

It’s so annoying.

“I—” you cry, “a-agghhh!”

“I got you.”

Suddenly, Nam Joon wraps his arms around your body and holds you tight. It’s like a hug, but as he does it, he drills his fucking cock into you. Like never before, you feel his length reach spots you missed as you rode him. Nam Joon drills like there’s no tomorrow. It’s so rough and intense, he slaps your ass while he’s at it. You’re constantly moaning, and at this point—

“You like it like this, little slut? Such a fucking whore for wanting it like this… Gonna take my cum? Gonna get so fucked up you can’t walk tomorrow?”

“Mhmmm,” you sob. “Yes, I want it like this. J-just like that! Fuck yes, yes, yes!”

“You think about this, huh? Always imagining how it’d be like for me to fuck you? Are you happy now? Are you fucking happy? Greedy little bitch always gets what she wants, huh?”

“So happy,” you gasp. “I love your cock. You’re so good to me, Joon.”

Something inside him flips. He loves the way you say his name. He loves the way this feels and is even more in love with the way that it’s with you. With that being said…

He fucks you harder.

Rough, sloppy, messy.

It’s so fucking good that you grip onto his hair and let out a few sobs. You murmur his name into his ear and your pussy clenches every time he kisses you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and concentrate on how blissful this all is. After a few moments—

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—”

You cum.

But it doesn’t stop there.

Even though you came, he didn’t.

Nam Joon continues to fuck you through your orgasm as he reaches his. Feeling the sensation, he curls his toes and digs his cock deep into you as he releases. Nam Joon stuffs his cum inside you, and pumps in and out a few more times.

Then, he leaves it inside.

As his cum spills, he keeps his cock inside you. Too tired to pull out, but also too in his head. He wants this to last longer than it has. He wants it again if possible… But that’s asking for too much. He knows it.

Without exchanging any words, you lift your face and lean in. You and Nam Joon make out, nice and slow. It’s so opposite from what you two were just doing… But it was nice. You even play with his hair as you two kiss. He likes it. You know he does because he smirks against your lips.

When you pull away, it’s like a wave of emotions hit Nam Joon.

What the fuck did he just do?

He isn’t sure what to say or to do… All he knows is that it was good. It was fun. He had wanted this moment for a while too. Is that something he should regret? Getting what he has wanted and waited for? He doesn’t know.

As you two lay beside one another, you reach for him and curl into his embrace. Quickly, you fall asleep. The entire thing tired you out. Nam Joon contemplates if he should get up and resume to his usual service… Or should he just lay here? Be with you?

Was that an option?

Either way, he knows one things for sure…

He’d be here in the morning.

To protect you.

To fuck you.

To be yours.

#bts one shot #nam joon smut #rm x yn #rm smut #rm bodyguard au #bts smut #bts scenario #nam joon scenario #nam joon fanfic #nam joon imagine #bts imagine #bts pwp #rm pwp

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ro-is-struggling · 1 year

Text

For Your Eyes Only || Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: The three times you and Spencer managed to keep your relationship a secret and the one time you got caught.

Warnings: Garcia!Reader (but the reader's race/ethnicity is not specified, she could be adopted idk), mutual pining, love confessions, reader being a little insecure at one point, suggestive tones, implied smut, possible 14x01 spoilers, canon typical violence, angst with happy ending, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 11700 (I'm not even sorry)

Notes: This is based on a dream I had after binging the show so I’m sorry if it’s weird lol

Things between you and Spencer had always been complicated. You first met when you were young and inexperienced when you ended up crashing at your sister Penelope's place after losing your job and apartment all in the same week. She had offered to help you until you could get back on your feet, inviting you to live with her so you could save some money to move into a better apartment. And living with her also meant living with her second family, the BAU, so just a week after you moved in, Penelope organized a get-together with all her friends and co-workers so you could get to know each other.

Spencer stood out to you from the very beginning. He was shy and awkward and too young to be part of the team. You were a little intimidated by him at first. Despite his calm demeanor, he had an intense gaze that sent tingles down your spine every time his eyes fell on you. You felt a little self-conscious under his watchful eyes, feeling as if he was studying you. You knew he was not only a profiler, but also a genius with more than one college degree. There was no way you couldn't feel awkward under his gaze.

That was until he opened his mouth, rambling excitedly about some random piece of information that he seemed to know a lot about, but that no one seemed to want to hear about. No one except you. You found his enthusiasm adorable and his voice soothing. He was a fascinating person who immediately piqued your desire to get to know him better. So that's exactly what you did.

It was clear from the first moment that you shared a special spark. Within minutes of meeting you were already off in your own little bubble, chatting as if you had known each other all your lives. Spencer had never felt so comfortable with a complete stranger before, although he supposed it made sense given that you were Penelope's sister. The apple doesn't fall that far from the tree and all. You became friends in record time and fell in love even faster. But, as mentioned before, you were both too young and inexperienced to do anything about it. You didn't quite know how to deal with the feelings you were experiencing, so you did nothing.

You were always afraid that things wouldn't work out well between you, that somehow Spencer would get bored of you and leave you. You didn't want things to be awkward for your sister, you knew that if you two broke up she would feel the need to choose sides and you couldn't let her get into a fight with her friend and coworker because of you. And Spencer... Well, he had almost no experience in love or dating. It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to even understand his feelings for you and once he did he didn't know what to do about it, so he did nothing. And when you finally went out to live your life on your own, he watched you walk away, burying his love for you in a box with a thousand locks, hidden deep in his heart so he could forget you. But he never forgot you and you never forgot him.

Timing was never right with you. You were perfect for each other, but there was always something that got in the way, as if fate itself didn't want to see you together. Even though your feelings for Spencer never died, you had given up hope that anything would ever happen between you. Apparently it wasn't in the cards for you to be together and you accepted it, settling for living with the what-ifs as your only consolation. At least that was until a new opportunity presented itself in front of you at Penelope's 41st birthday party. An opportunity you were not willing to pass up.

You were once again crashing on your sister's couch that year, only this time it was until you found an apartment in the city near her. Penelope's job was risky and in the last few years she had been targeted by psychopathic killers on several occasions. You hated the idea of her living alone and since you were now in a financial position to choose where to live, you decided to move close to her so that you could come to her aid in case of an emergency. You had to admit that your timing wasn't great since she was in the middle of planning her birthday party, so you postponed your apartment search until after the event, concentrating all your energy on helping her first. Luckily David Rossi offered to host the celebration at his mansion so you didn't have to make any more mess inside Penelope's apartment which was already a mess because of you. And planning such an event was always much easier when it wasn't your house that was going to be turned upside down.

Spencer was in his mandatory retirement when you arrived, concentrating on his new found love of teaching. For that reason, Penelope hadn't had a chance to talk much with the boy wonder so when he showed up at Rossi's house for the celebration and saw you there he was greatly surprised.

You were laughing with Penelope and Emily and didn't notice his presence until you heard JJ call his name. When you looked up your eyes met his, those beautiful hazel eyes that you still saw in your dreams. It felt as if time stood still for a moment, the world around you disappearing as you became lost in each other's gaze. Memories of moments shared with Spencer came back to your mind in flashes, once again awakening those feelings you thought you had buried deep in your heart.

Spencer looked different, that was the first thing you noticed. He had changed, not only physically but also emotionally. He looked more serious than you remembered and seemed to have matured quite a bit. You didn't expect anything different knowing everything he had been through lately, the change was only natural. However, when he smiled you recognized the Spencer you loved so much. His essence was still there, a part of his innocence and charm still shone in his eyes. That made you smile, you were glad to know that despite everything he was okay.

Penelope was the one who snapped you out of your trance, giving you a subtle nudge in the ribs to bring you back to reality. She knew about your feelings for Spencer, you had never told her, but you didn't need to for her to figure it out. You guys were actually pretty bad at hiding your feelings, which is why she couldn't believe how you still weren't dating. God knows she hadn't stopped trying to push you in the right direction at every opportunity —Penelope loved to play cupid—, but so far nothing had ever worked.

Even though your sister successfully brought you back to reality, you were not able to give Spencer even a few words of welcome. You were still too overwhelmed by his presence, so you preferred to play it safe until you found the right words to express yourself. In the end you didn't get a chance to have a proper talk until late in the evening once everyone present began to show signs that they had had a few too many drinks. You went out into the garden to get some fresh air, getting away from the laughter for a moment to clear your head. Spencer followed you out and before you knew it you were engaged in a casual chat, catching up on things with a level of comfort that was unbelievable considering the level of tension that could be felt in the air when you were together.

It was always easy to be around Spencer. Despite all the pent up feelings between you, you were able to maintain a good friendship. You didn't see each other very often, but whenever you met again it was as if you had never been apart in the first place. That's how strong your connection was.

"I missed this," you admitted after a few seconds of silence, your gaze fixed on the horizon, lost in thought. "I missed our talks."

"Me too," Spencer nodded, admiring your profile as if he were trying to memorize every little detail of your face. "I missed you." His voice sounded more muffled that time, heavy with the sadness accumulated after years of your absence. The mood in the air changed completely from casual and funny to sad and serious, letting you know that the time for explanations and excuses had come.

"Why did you leave?" It broke your heart to hear the way his voice cracked as he spoke. You knew about his fear of change and his abandonment issues, he had opened up to you about it a long time ago. You left to take that job three states away knowing full well how much your leaving was going to affect him and now you were regretting it. It wasn't as if it hadn't hurt you too, but at the time you thought walking away was the best option for both of you.

"I..." You didn't know what to answer. You had a long list of made up excuses you'd thought of over the years, but when you looked up to face him you didn't have the heart to lie to him. Spencer wasn't stupid, he could tell when you were lying, so what was the point? He deserved to know the truth. You deserved the truth. "I got scared and I ran away, just like I always do." You muttered, ashamed of your past actions.

"Scared of what?" Spencer frowned at you, confused by your words. You didn't respond verbally, you just looked at him and that was enough for him to understand what you meant. He could see it in your eyes, the fear, the insecurity. He couldn't believe how he hadn't noticed it before. Suddenly it all seemed so obvious to him that he wanted to yell at his past self for not doing something sooner.

"What we had... I-I never felt anything like that before and it scared me." You finally confessed after so long, keeping your eyes on the floor since you couldn't bring yourself to look Spencer in the face. It felt good to finally tell the truth, even though you felt a little exposed and vulnerable under his intense gaze. But it was worth it if it would finally bring closure to your story.

"I wish you would have told me." This time it was your turn to look at him with confusion. "I liked you too."

You froze in place, Spencer's voice echoing in your head as you tried to process the situation.

He loved you too.

All this time you had spent wondering how things would have been if you hadn't been such a coward when you actually could have found out if you had just opened your mouth at the right time. Spencer loved you too and you had done nothing but waste time.

But then the cynical voice in your head asked the question you were so afraid of. Why did he love you? There was definitely nothing extraordinary about you, you were the most common and boring person that existed on the planet and he... he was the perfect man. He was sweet and sensitive, effortlessly beautiful and as if that wasn't enough he was also a literal genius. You couldn't understand how someone like Spencer could find someone like you interesting or worthy of his love. Being friends was one thing, but being a couple was a world apart. You were convinced that you were not compatible, despite all the love you had for each other. There was no way a genius like Spencer wasn't going to get bored of you in a matter of weeks. It just didn't make sense.

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could react to this new revelation, you were interrupted by your sister's voice announcing that they were about to cut the cake. You didn't even get a chance to look at Spencer before Penelope dragged you back inside, too tipsy to realize she was interrupting a very important moment.

You had to put on a smile as everyone sang happy birthday to Penelope, feigning happiness when you felt anything but that. Confusion was the predominant emotion, but you also felt regret and a crushing emptiness in your chest that made it hard to breathe. You wanted to be there for your sister, but your mind couldn't stop replaying Spencer's words, having trouble processing the situation.

You couldn't believe that all this time he had reciprocated your feelings. All the time you had spent mourning for what couldn't be, all the tears you had shed for him, it had all been wasted. You felt like a fool, though you couldn't deny that sabotaging your own happiness out of fear or insecurities was something you did more than you'd like to admit. It was hardwired into your brain, an automatic response that you could almost never stop. And now it was once again too late to do anything about it.

Spencer looked happy as he laughed with his friends, unaffected by the revelations that had just come up in your talk minutes before. It confused you a little, wondering how he was able to go on as if nothing had happened after hearing your confession. But then you noticed a detail that tightened the lump that had formed in your throat.

'I liked you too.'

He had spoken in the past tense. He loved you, implying that he no longer did. Spencer had moved on from his feelings for you, putting an end to your story. And the worst part was that you had no one to blame but yourself. You were the one who had pushed him away, the one who had run away from your feelings instead of facing them and now you were paying the price.

Your mind was lost in horrible thoughts, imagining how many women had occupied that special place in his heart since you left. That special place you so longed to occupy, that place that should have been yours... that was yours without you knowing it. You wondered who had dethroned you, who had been able to erase you from his heart to take that place.

Imagining Spencer in the arms of another woman made you feel sick. You knew he could date anyone he wanted —you'd had your fair share of failed relationships yourself over the years—, but for some reason this was the first time it felt real. You hated to think that another woman had come to occupy that special space in his heart, that she knew what it felt like to kiss him or wake up next to him. The thought of Spencer feeling safe and at home in the arms of someone who wasn't you crushed you. You knew you had no right to feel that way, but you couldn't help but feel jealous that someone else had the chance to experience what you fantasized about every night before bed.

Suddenly the room began to feel small, the walls closing in on you as the laughter around you grew louder and louder. You needed to get out of there, to get away from all the noise so you could calm your mind overwhelmed by the swirl of emotions that weighed you down. So you took advantage of Penelope complaining about the lack of ice to escape from there, jumping up from your seat as you offered to get more.

The kitchen sheltered you from the noise of the party, giving you the peace and quiet you needed to try to work out your problems. You took a moment to take a deep breath, repeating to yourself over and over that everything was fine. It was a big lie, but you were more than willing to fake it til you made it. You poured yourself a glass of water and drank it in one gulp, hoping it would help loosen the lump in your throat.

'Keep it together, this is Penelope's night!' the voice of reason echoed in your head, trying hard to keep your emotions in check. You knew she was right, even though you were pretty sure your sister was too drunk at this point to notice the change in your mood, that didn't mean you had a free pass to ruin the party. You had to find a way to put aside what you were feeling for her.

"Is everything alright?" Spencer's voice startled you and you almost dropped the glass you were holding. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's just thought that you were taking too long and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh yeah, sorry. I needed a moment away from all the noise." You forced a smile in an attempt to let him know you were okay, but the smile didn't reflect in your eyes. You could barely hold eye contact with him as you spoke, which made him think you were hiding something from him.

"I guess they are pretty loud, huh." He walked over to you, leaning back against the edge of the island in the middle of the kitchen. You tensed as you felt his closeness, feeling the warmth of his body against your side as the scent of his cologne assaulted your nostrils. It was as if he was doing it on purpose, as if he knew the effect he had on you and was using it to torture you. But when you looked up at him you were met with his usual innocent expression, with big eyes looking at you curiously as if he was studying you.

"Yeah and it's been a while since I've been around them, I have to get used to the chaos again." You lied, lowering your gaze. You could no longer stand the intensity of his hazel orbs staring at you as if he could read your thoughts. You knew that was impossible, but what he could certainly do —and very well— was read your behavior. You were sure you were being very obvious and it was only a matter of time before he realized what was really going on with you.

"What's on your mind?" Spencer spoke in a soft tone, breaking the silence that had formed in the room. You bit your tongue, debating whether you should answer his question honestly or not. You wanted to lie, but you knew it was pointless. He would know you were lying, if he didn't already.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about us... about how strange life can be sometimes." You let out a bitter laugh, thinking about how different things might be if only you had done just one thing differently years ago. "D-do you think things between us would have worked?" Your voice was small and unsure, looking up at him hesitantly. You weren't sure if you were ready to hear his answer, but you couldn't contain your curiosity.

Spencer looked at you, studying your face for what felt like an eternity. You felt small under his gaze, but you maintained eye contact this time. You needed to know the truth, to read in his eyes the sincerity of his words. Only then would your brain know peace.

"I don't know," he finally murmured. "I guess we'll never know."

Spencer's eyes did not leave yours, nor did yours leave his. You felt him moving closer to you, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he tilted his face toward you. You copied his actions without even realizing it, desperate to feel closer to him. It was as if you were in a trance, lost in the beautiful hazel color of his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess we won't," you said absently, letting the scent of Spencer's cologne flood your system and wash away what little reason you had left. Your eyes traveled to his lips, reflecting the thoughts that occupied your mind. There was nothing you wanted more at that moment than to close the distance that separated you and join your lips in a kiss. You were desperate to know what it would feel like to kiss him, you had been dreaming about it for years. But you knew it wasn't appropriate, so you used your last bit of strength to hold back.

When you looked back into Spencer's eyes you noticed that something had changed in them. He was looking at you in a different way, with a sparkle you had never noticed in his eyes before. It was... desire. He wanted you as much as you wanted him. He wanted to kiss you too, but he was holding back just like you. You were once again dancing around each other, hiding what you truly felt, waiting for the other to make the first move. You were tired of it and you weren't going to make the same mistake again.

So you leaned into Spencer, letting him know that you wanted this as much as he did. Time seemed to slow down, making you feel like you were moving in slow motion as you drew closer to shorten the small distance that separated you. The tension in the air was strong, almost unbearable, as you lost yourself in Spencer's eyes, anxiously waiting to feel his lips on yours.

Your heart raced as you felt his warm breath mingling with yours, the tips of your noses brushing and awakening a wave of electricity that coursed through your entire body. You shared one last glance before letting yourself be carried away by the moment, joining your lips in a long awaited kiss.

It was shy and experimental, a simple brush of lips that did nothing more than leave you wanting more. Spencer caught your upper lip between his, caressing it with a tenderness that made your knees weak. It wasn't a full kiss, but it was still better than all your fantasies because this one was real.

You broke apart almost immediately, opening your eyes once again to study each other's expression. Neither of you needed to speak to know what the other was thinking, it was enough to see the glint of happiness shining in your eyes to confirm that you both felt the same. So without wasting another second you brought your lips together once again, only this time in a more confident and passionate kiss.

You let his lips guide yours, allowing yourself to get lost in the euphoria of the moment. Spencer's hand cupped your cheek, holding your face against his gently to deepen the kiss. His fingertips sparked a warm tingle on your skin and you leaned into his touch, clinging to his lips as you tried to keep up with him. Your lips closed over his lower lip, your tongue caressing it gently asking his permission. He granted it and you didn't waste a second exploring his mouth. He tasted like cake, the sweet blend of chocolate and cream still present on his tongue.

You didn't want the moment to end. You didn't want to separate yourself from Spencer's lips ever again. You had fantasized about this moment for so long and wanted it to last forever, but unfortunately for you that wasn't possible. You were in the middle of a party and it was already taking too long to get back to the others. If you didn't pull apart now someone was going to find you like this and you didn't want to face the awkward moment, so you reluctantly broke away from Spencer.

"That was..." he trailed off as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Late." You finished the sentence for him, letting out a chuckle. That kiss was long overdue and you couldn't believe it had taken you so long to get to this moment. "We should get back to the party." You said, making no effort to pull away from him. You were still so close to each other that your noses brushed and your breaths mingled in the air. And that's how you wanted to stay for the rest of the night, even though you knew you couldn't.

"Yes, we should." Spencer nodded, but instead of pulling away from you, he shortened the small distance that separated you even more, bringing your lips together in a quick kiss. You reciprocated immediately, allowing yourself to get lost in him once again.

"I mean it!" You exclaimed, parting from his lips for a second before being drawn into them once more.

"Me too!" Spencer murmured against your mouth, making you giggle into the kiss.

You allowed him to distract you with his kisses for a little while longer, taking advantage of the privacy the kitchen provided to explore a little more of whatever it was that you two had. That room was your little refuge, your little bubble in which there was only you and the tension in the air that had followed you all these years. It was your safe place, one where you didn't have to explain what you felt in front of anyone. You only had to look into each other's eyes to understand what you were feeling. Going through the kitchen doors meant facing the real world and that only made everything more complicated.

"I don't want to stop." You confessed finally, leaning your forehead against Spencer's as you looked into his eyes.

"Me neither."

"Maybe... maybe we should try this out, see where it takes us." You didn't know why you were nervous to speak, you could see in Spencer's eyes that he wanted the same thing you did. You supposed it was because you weren't used to expressing your feelings in clear, concrete words. You hated feeling vulnerable even though you knew you were safe with Spencer. "I want to give us a chance, if you want that too, of course."

"I do! That's all I ever wanted." Spencer gave you one of his big, adorable smiles of his, the kind that made his eyes crinkle and radiated nothing but happiness and positive vibes. It warmed your heart every time he smiled at you like that, genuine joy written all over your face. It was hard not to return the gesture, his smile was so contagious.

You shared one more kiss, the perfect seal of your deal. Even though you were running out of time, you took a moment to enjoy it, trying to memorize every detail, every sensation, for the future. Spencer took your face in his hands, pulling you closer to him and tilting your head so he could deepen the kiss, making the most of every second you had together.

It left you completely breathless and a little stupid to be honest. So much so that you almost forgot you had gone there to get ice in the first place. He had to remind you before you left the kitchen empty handed, feeling secretly proud of his skills.

"Wait!" you called out to him before Spencer disappeared behind the kitchen door. He turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering if there was something he had forgotten.

"What is it?"

"We should keep this between us, for now at least."

"Oh." He mumbled and didn't need to say anything else for you to realize he was disappointed.

"It's not that I don't want to tell people," you rushed to say, taking a few steps towards him. "It's just that... you know how annoying Penelope can get with stuff like this. I want to explore our relationship without having her asking me about it all the time." You tried to explain, hoping he understood where you were coming from.

There was nothing you wanted more than to go out there and shout how happy you were about all this, but your sister couldn't find out about anything yet. She had bugged you to go out with Spencer from the very beginning so you could only imagine how annoying she was going to be when she found out her wishes had been granted. You knew she meant well, but she could get a little intense at times and you'd rather have the freedom to explore your relationship with Spencer without feeling pressure from your sister every second. Besides, if things between you two didn't work out the way you hoped, you didn't want things between her and Spencer to get weird at work. You needed time to process your feelings so you'd be ready to deal with the intensity of your sister's love when she learns the truth.

"I promise it won't be for long, just until we make sure we... work together, you know."

Luckily for you Spencer was not angry with you. On the contrary, he agreed with you when you brought up Penelope's attitude to these issues. He wasn't one to share much about his private life anyway, so he didn't find anything unusual about keeping your relationship a secret for a while. He liked the idea of having you all to himself behind everyone else's back. It was as if you had your own separate world, your own little piece of paradise on earth. And that was exactly what he needed at this point in his life, a haven where he felt safe at all times.

So you shared one last kiss before emerging from your little bubble to face the real world, struggling to hide your happiness from a room full of profilers. It was not an easy task, but for that night you had alcohol on your side to help you.

Spencer knew from the beginning that keeping his relationship with you hidden from the team was going to be difficult. They were not only excellent profilers, but also his best friends and knew him too well to notice when he was hiding something. He liked to think that he was relatively good at lying since it was a tool he used from time to time in his work. However, lying to a suspect or an unsub was not the same as lying to his friends. He expected suspicion and curious looks from his teammates at some point in the near future, though he had to admit he was surprised at how quickly JJ seemed to realize something was up.

It was late at night and the team was stuck in the office finishing up paperwork. Spencer couldn't wait to get out of there to be with you. Tonight was date night and even though you didn't have anything too fancy planned —just dinner at Spencer's apartment, you had learned the hard way that it was best to play it safe with his crazy work schedule—, but still, he couldn't stop counting down the minutes until he could see you. Things between you were going great and he felt on cloud nine every time you kissed him or held his hand. He couldn't believe that after so long of dancing around each other things had worked out and now he wanted to spend every spare second of his day by your side to make up for lost time.

As soon as Emily allowed them to go home, Spencer was quick to pack up his belongings. He wanted to be the first one through the glass doors, to disappear before any of his colleagues could delay him any further. However, he wasn't quick enough since JJ managed to intercept him before he reached the elevator.

"I've been meaning to ask.... Is everything alright with you?" she asked him, lowering her voice so the few agents passing by wouldn't hear them.

"Yes." Spencer hesitated to answer, sounding more like a question than a statement. "Why would there be anything wrong?"

"I don't know, you tell me." JJ folded her arms, waiting for an answer. When she got nothing more than a confused look from Spencer, she added, "You've been acting weird lately, like you're hiding something. You got a new phone! And you're always the first to walk out the door." JJ sounded genuinely worried about him and Spencer immediately felt bad about having to lie to her. Although he knew she would understand.

"Whatever it is that's going on you know you can talk to me, right?"

"Nothing is going on, I'm fine!" He tried to convince her friend, speaking in a calm and slow voice in an attempt to reassure her.

"Spence, do I have to worry?" JJ insisted, remembering what had happened the last time he had kept something from her.

Spencer could read the genuine concern in her expression and hear it in her voice as she spoke, so he tried his best to give her an answer that made sense but at the same time didn't give away his little secret. "There's nothing to worry about." He affirmed, giving her friend a warm smile. He appreciated that she cared so much about him, but this time it wasn't necessary. "I got the new phone so I could stay in contact with my students when I'm teaching. Apparently accessibility is a big part of the teacher/student relationship now days and I need to pay more attention to my emails."

That wasn't a lie in its entirety. The truth was that he had bought a newer phone so he could keep in touch with you. He didn't want to at first, but you managed to convince him that more modern technology would make it easier to keep your long distance relationship afloat when he traveled away for work, but it would also help you keep things hidden. Spencer knew that if you wanted your relationship to move forward you had to spend time together as a couple to actually know if you worked well together. And after having to cancel your first date three times because of a case, Spencer decided that maybe it was a good time to upgrade a little. The benefit of being able to communicate better with his students when he taught was an added bonus that had played almost no part in his decision.

JJ looked at him with narrowed eyes, trying to search his expression for something to tell her if he was lying to her. She still felt he was hiding something, but when he smiled at her she saw pure happiness in his eyes. Then she realized that maybe there was a good reason behind his secrecy. "So I don't have to worry then?" Spencer shook his head and she smiled. "Good."

They walked together to the elevator, changing the topic of the conversation to something more trivial as the metal box transported them to the exit. As they parted ways, Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket and hurried to let you know he was running late, but he was on his way. You responded with a picture of his apartment door, letting him know that you had arrived at his place. He then gave you permission to use the emergency key under the welcome mat so you wouldn't have to wait for him in the hallway. After all, it wasn't the first time you went to his apartment and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

Opening his front door and finding you there with the takeout food ready to eat gave him a sense of joy he hadn't experienced before. The worries of his job, the gruesome crime scene photos and the wicked look of the unsub they had caught, all vanished from his system the moment you greeted him with a smile, telling him how much you had missed him. You were in your own little world when you got together, one that had no room for the stresses of work or everyday life. There was only peace, happiness and love. Suddenly the outside world ceased to exist, it was just him and you exploring the feelings you had hidden for so long. It was incredibly liberating in a way and made it all worthwhile. He could get used to that feeling.

Spencer wasn't the only one who had trouble keeping your secret hidden. You might not work with excellent profilers, but you lived with Penelope Garcia herself, which was almost the same thing. You thought that maybe the fact that your sister had such a demanding job or that Spencer traveled from state to state on a regular basis would play in your favor —you had no big plans to hide from anyone and Penelope was hardly ever home to pick up on anything anyway—, but you were wrong. Penelope didn't need more than a quick glance in your direction to raise an eyebrow accusingly.

"You're seeing things." You tried to defend yourself when she confronted you about it. "I think you need to take some time off, the stress is getting to you."

"Oh no, you can't lie to me. There's something going on with you, I can sense it." She insisted, chasing you into the living room and standing in front of the TV so you couldn't avoid her gaze.

"You can sense it?" you repeated in fake disbelief. You were sure she could, she knew you too well not to realize you were hiding something from her.

"Yes! You're glowing, you have this, this... happiness aura you didn't have before. What's going on?"

You rolled your eyes, though you had to bite your tongue to keep from smiling. You did feel like you were glowing and, although it was inconvenient, it was nice to know that others could notice it too. It was the happiest you had been in a long time and it was all thanks to Spencer's company.

"Nothing is going on, Penelope." You tried to convince her. "I promise."

She looked at you for a moment, squinting her eyes as if deciding whether it was a good idea to believe you or not. Finally she said, "You would tell me if there was something going on with you, right? You wouldn't keep it from me, would you?"

"Of course not! I promise you that when something good happens to me, you'll be the first to know." You felt terrible as soon as the words came out of your mouth. You didn't like lying to your sister, but it was for the best. Your relationship with Spencer was too new to be announced to others, you wanted to be able to enjoy a little more of the privacy and intimacy you were able to have by keeping everything a secret. Penelope would learn the truth eventually, but for now you wanted to keep things as they were. You were sure she would understand.

Penelope didn't say anything, she just sat down next to you and turned up the volume on the TV to watch whatever you had on together with you. You thought you were in the clear, that you had effectively eased her curiosity with your promise, but then your phone vibrated. The screen lit up with a new notification, drawing two pairs of eyes to the device resting on the coffee table. You reached out to grab it, immediately recognizing the contact who was texting you, but Penelope was quicker.

"Who is... 'S plus heart emoji' and why are they asking you if you can go over to their place?" She looked at you with an accusatory raised eyebrow and you almost let out a growl of frustration. How could she be so lucky? You and Spencer hardly ever texted, you always talked on the phone, and the one time he texted you she was there to read it. Fate hated you.

"That's... Sophie, my friend from work." You lied, hoping you sounded convincing enough so Penelope wouldn't ask too many questions. "She's going through a tough break up and I'm helping her whenever I can. Her ex boyfriend is an ass and I told her that whenever she felt bad and had the urge to talk to him she should call me instead."

Penelope couldn't argue much against that, leaving you alone the moment you mentioned broken hearts. Once again you felt guilty about lying to her, but all your worries disappeared when you set foot in Spencer's apartment. The smell of wood and old books hit you as soon as he opened the door, making you feel at home. It wasn't the first time you were there, since you were still living with Penelope most of your secret meetings had to be at his home to avoid being discovered. You were already more than familiar with the place and the beautiful scent that you could identify as the very essence of Spencer. It was your favorite smell in the world since it reminded you of him.

"I don't think she's onto us, but she definitely knows something’s up." You told Spencer as you snuggled on his couch. You didn't have any plans in mind, you just wanted to feel each other's warmth close by, taking advantage of Spencer's day off to relax together like a real couple. You had your head resting on his chest, listening to the soft beating of his heart as he wrapped his arms around you, his nose hidden in your hair, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo. It was his favorite scent in the world, associated with happiness and love since he recognized it as your very essence.

"Would that be so bad?" he blurted out without thinking before speaking, letting his heart take over his lips. "Getting caught, I mean. Would it be so bad if the others knew about us?" It was a question that had been bouncing around in his head for a while now. When you had sat down to talk through the implications of your arrangement, you decided it was best to keep things under wraps until you found out if you worked as well as a couple as you did as friends. The point was to keep things from getting weird with the rest of the team —especially Penelope— if things between you two didn't work out. Spencer thought it was a good idea and agreed to wait to announce your relationship to the others. But now that some time had passed since that day, he couldn't help but wonder how much longer you'd keep hiding it.

It wasn't that he didn't like it, he loved your secret dates and sneaky texts. Your relationship had become a kind of refuge, a sanctuary where he could go to escape the outside world. Yet he couldn't help but wonder if maybe the reason you wanted to keep things secret was that you weren't sure how you felt about him. Spencer was ready to let the world know he loved you and thought you felt the same way, but lately he wasn't so sure.

"I mean, w-we were supposed to do this until we figured out if we worked as a couple, right? I-I d-don't know about you, but I think this works, right?" Spencer added, stumbling over his words because of nerves. He didn't want to sound like he was pressuring you, far from it, he was willing to wait as long as he had to for you, but he needed some kind of confirmation that you felt the same way he did in order to ease his anxious mind. "I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, we don't have to tell people if you're not ready... I just-"

"Spence," you interrupted his ramblings, lifting your head from his chest so you could look him in the eye. He looked terrified in the most adorable way possible, looking at you with wide eyes as he waited for a response. "It works." You stated with a smile and felt him relax beneath you. "We work great together. That's not why I want to keep us a secret anymore."

"Then what is it?" You let out a sigh as you tried to find the right words to express what you felt. It wasn't that you didn't want to tell the world how happy you were with Spencer by your side, god knew that keeping your mouth shut was a challenge that was getting harder every day. But you knew that the moment you did, you would lose the special kind of intimacy you had now that no one knew about you. You knew that the moment you made your relationship public you would have Penelope bugging you with her questions, wanting to know every detail after pushing you to date him since day one. And you knew the other members of the group wouldn't be far behind. You and Spencer were like the babies in the family that was the BAU so it was inevitable to have them hovering over your shoulders looking over your shoulder with every step you took.

"I just... I know the second we tell people they're gonna be all over our business and I hate that. I love what we have and after all the time it took us to get here, I just want to enjoy this a little more, have you all to myself." Your answer seemed to be enough to erase the doubt in Spencer's eyes. He smiled at you in relief and you reached up to kiss him.

The lingering doubts in his mind vanished as he felt the way your lips moved over his, your tongue caressing him in that slow, sensual way that drove him crazy. He let your kisses soothe him, losing himself in you and in the warm sensation that your closeness always aroused inside him. You worked your magic on him, replacing every negative thought in his mind with love and comfort just with the touch of your lips on his. It was amazing how quickly you could invade his mind, making him forget the world around him in a matter of seconds. It was an ability that only you possessed and it showed how madly in love with you he really was.

“Besides, you can't deny that keeping it a secret makes things more... interesting.” You whispered against his lips as you pulled away in need of air. There was a mischievous sparkle in your eyes that revealed exactly where your mind was going and he couldn't help but blush. Flashes of the nights you had shared together appeared in his mind, the sound of your agitated voice pronouncing his name like a mantra as you came undone under his touch replaying in his ears.

"Those late night calls while your colleagues are only a few feet away, sleeping on the jet or separated only by the thin walls of a motel room." You teased him, your voice low and sultry as you settled into his lap. The atmosphere in the room changed quickly, the tension heavy in the air as you playfully teased Spencer, scattering kisses up and down his neck. You could feel him tensing beneath you, his hands flying to your hips, clinging to your skin in warning.

"Those pictures that I sent you while you were still at work," you purred in his ear, grinding your hips against his. Spencer closed his eyes, letting out a long gasp as he remembered the episode you referred to. Nothing could have prepared him for those messages, seeing you lying on your sheets wearing only one of his unbuttoned shirts and a red lace bra was too much for his poor heart. He had been lucky that his colleagues were distracted, otherwise he would not have been able to hide the clear reaction of surprise and desire that your messages had awakened in him.

"I thought we were just going to hang out today." Spencer said, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. He tightened his grip on your waist, guiding your slow movements and pressing you against his growing erection.

"I got bored." You pouted. "I wanna play."

Spencer couldn't resist your charms even if he wanted to.

You didn't realize that agreeing to go to a bar with the BAU team was a mistake until it was too late. When Penelope invited you, you thought it would be a good idea to get out of the house for a while and it would give you a good excuse to be close to Spencer. You were prepared for the tension and having to hold the urge to kiss him in front of everyone, at this point it was part of your routine. What you weren't prepared for was how many women seemed to find your boyfriend attractive.

You couldn't blame them though, Spencer looked especially sexy in that black suit with his hair slightly messed up. The knot of his tie was loose and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the skin of his forearm. Your eyes got lost following the path of his veins, remembering the way they stood out more clearly every time his hand closed around your neck or your hips when you were alone in his room. It was honestly torture to have him in front of you looking so sensual and not being able to do anything about it. Even worse was having to watch every woman in the bar try her luck with him, coming up to flirt whenever he was alone. And there was nothing you could do about it, not without revealing your little secret at least.

"You should have listened to me, little one." Your sister's cheerful voice startled you. You looked away from the woman chatting with Spencer at the bar to turn your gaze to Penelope, who was looking at you with a smile that said I told you so.

"Huh?"

"If you had listened to me when I told you to go for it, you wouldn't have that look on your face right now."

"What look?" You played dumb, taking a long sip of your drink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were staring at boy wonder talking with that woman over there." Penelope rolled her eyes, tired of hearing you deny your feelings for Spencer. It had been clear to her from day one that you were right for each other and she couldn't understand how you still weren't together.

"I was not!"

"Are you kidding me? If looks could kill, that poor woman would be on the floor right now."

"Very funny, Penny, but I wasn't looking at them." You tried to lie, avoiding looking your sister in the eyes for fear she might read the truth in your gaze. Keeping your relationship with Spencer a secret was one thing, but hiding your jealousy was something you apparently couldn't do.

"If it makes you feel any better he doesn't seem that interested in her." Penelope continued speaking, completely ignoring your previous comment. "You should go talk to him, I'm sure he'd rather be with you anyway."

"No. You know what I'm gonna do?" Penelope shook her head, watching you drink what was left in your glass in one sip before rising from your seat next to her. "I'm gonna buy another round."

You walked away from the table before your sister could protest, heading to the bar to get more alcohol. You were going to need a lot more to be able to handle this whole situation, otherwise jealousy was going to eat you up inside. You bumped into Spencer on purpose as you walked past him, successfully getting his attention.

"Careful with those, the rest of the team is pretty drunk and I'm going to need your help to make sure they get home safely." Spencer said, appearing at your side only a couple of minutes later.

"I can handle my liquor, I'll be fine." You sounded colder than you intended, mistakenly taking your jealousy out on him. Spencer noticed something was wrong with you right away, frowning at your sudden moodiness.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes!" you lied to him, answering without even looking at him. But you immediately regretted it, realizing that it was stupid to lie when you were doing such a bad job of hiding your jealousy. "No, it's not! That woman was flirting with you."

"No she wasn't!" Spencer said and you looked at him with narrowed eyes, deciding if he was serious or if he was playing you for a fool. It didn't take you long to figure out that the confusion in his expression was genuine and then you couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh.

“You can’t possibly be that naive! Half the women in here have been eye fucking you since we arrived.”

“So what? I don’t care about any of them.” The casual tone in which he spoke was almost as annoying as the women in that bar. You knew he was right, you didn't doubt his feelings for you, but you still hated having to watch all those strangers approach him thinking they had a chance. Spencer was yours and you were desperate to let them know, but you couldn't and it was driving you crazy.

"It's annoying, that's what!" you complained, crossing your arms and pouting. "I can't even hold your hand to let them all know you're mine." Spencer's hand traveled to your cheek, taking advantage of the fact that you were far enough away from the rest of the team to be seen. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his skin against yours. You missed him and honestly didn't know how much longer you could stand it in this place without being able to touch him or have him near you.

"But that's part of the fun, isn't it?" He echoed the point you had made when he had come to you with a similar concern. You suddenly felt the urge to hit him, and you would have if it weren't for that adorable smile on his face. You couldn't stay mad at him when he looked at you with that face.

"You're lucky you're cute." You warned him, pointing an accusatory finger at him and making him laugh.

"C'mon, I'll stay with you the whole night if that makes you feel better." Spencer promised you, helping you carry the drinks to the table with the rest of your friends.

He kept his word, sitting next to you and not moving from his spot, but that didn't make you feel any better. You could still feel the curious glances of the women around him, wondering if he was single, hoping to get a chance to talk to him. You hated it and the alcohol in your veins wasn't making it any easier. You weren't necessarily drunk, but you did feel a little more liberated and uninhibited. You were a little tipsy and something you did a lot when you were in that state was touching and hugging anyone who was unlucky enough to be next to you. That combined with the jealousy that overwhelmed you was a recipe for disaster.

You started with simple, inconspicuous things, taking Spencer's hand under the table and bringing your leg up on top of his. No one could see you, but it gave you a sense of closeness that calmed your anxious mind. But as the night progressed those hidden caresses turned out to be more and more about satisfying your need for him.

You needed to feel his warmth embracing your body, his lips on yours as he showed you how much he loved you. But, since you knew that wasn't possible —at least not until you left that place—, you settled for resting your head on his shoulder as you chatted, snuggling against him as if you were the only people there, too distracted by the ridiculous way your drunken friends danced on the dance floor. It was as if you were in your own bubble, enjoying your night together as a couple without anyone knowing. It was nice to share that complicity, to look into each other's eyes and understand each other without having to use words.

"Are you feeling better?" Spencer asked you, taking his eyes off the dance floor to look at you. You smiled and nodded, feeling your heart fill with love as you lost yourself in the changing color of his eyes. You had to try hard to contain the urge to kiss him that came over you at that moment. And you were lucky you did because otherwise Emily, who appeared out of nowhere, would have discovered you.

"Hey guys, have you seen my phon...?" Her voice trailed off when she saw the pose you were in, her eyes immediately noticing your hands clasped together on the table. You pulled away from Spencer as quickly as you could, but you still weren't able to stop a smile from forming on Prentiss' lips - though you were grateful that she had tried to contain it.

"Nevermind, carry on." She said, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared in the first place. You let out a growl of frustration, hiding your face in your hands as you promised yourself that you were never going to drink again.

Your heart dropped when you heard Emily's voice on the other end of the line telling you that Penelope and Spencer had been kidnapped. You hadn't even cut the call and you were already running out of your apartment, rushing to your car and on your way to the FBI headquarters where two of the most important people in your life worked. Your brain was on autopilot, reduced to controlling your movement and basic life functions. Your mind was blank, too shocked and scared to even try to process what was happening. You knew that the moment you started thinking about what might be happening to your sister and the love of your life was the moment you would lose your sanity, so you tried your best to keep your mind free of all thoughts. You had to stay strong for them, concentrate all your energy on your desire to see them safe and sound again and maybe the universe would listen.

You lost all sense of time as you paced around the office where Emily had allowed you to wait while they worked, promising to get back to you as soon as they made any progress on the case. You felt like a caged lion, pacing back and forth while muttering to yourself that everything was going to be okay. Both Penelope and Spencer had had this job for so many years, that had to count for something, right? If anyone had the tools to survive a situation like that it was them.

You felt like you were going crazy locked in that dark office. But then the door opened, revealing a very shocked, but safe and sound Penelope. You ran into your sister's arms, letting tears roll down your cheeks as you clung to her, relieved to feel her sweet embrace once again. You went back to your childhood for a moment, remembering the one time you had shared a hug like that in the past. You had just learned of the fatal fate your parents had met and through tears and sobs you clung to your sister. You cried together for what felt like an eternity, and in that embrace you vowed to always be there for each other. Just as you were doing at that very moment.

“He told me to run, so I did… I left him there, how could I have left him there?” Penelope sobbed into your shoulder, feeling responsible for Spencer's future. Through tears, she managed to tell you how she had managed to escape thanks to him, how she had had a small window of time to run and how she had had to ignore the sounds of the commotion Spencer had created in order to escape —even the sound of gunshots. You'd be lying if you said your stomach hadn't dropped when you heard her say that, immediately fearing for your boyfriend's safety, but you knew that wasn't the time to panic. Penelope needed you to be strong, so you swallowed your emotions so you could comfort her.

"Penelope, listen to me." you said, pulling away from her so you could look her in the eye. "None of this is your fault, okay? Spencer made his choice, he's a smart man, you know that. He probably has a plan, he knows what he's doing. He's going to be fine, the team is going to find him and bring him back." You tried to reason with her and yourself, seeking to comfort your sister while calming your nerves with your own words.

"But what if they don't get him in time? W-What if... what if they hurt him before we can get to him?"

"That's not gonna happen, not as long as you're out there using that brilliant brain of yours to help your team to find him." You assured her, giving her a warm smile as you wiped away her tears with your thumb. "You need to stay strong for him right now, alright? You have to help him get back home." It was a plea for help hidden in words of encouragement, a subtle way of begging her to bring Spencer back into your arms. It wasn't fair to ask that of her after all she'd been through, you knew that, but you were desperate.

You knew she was just as desperate as you were, though, so she nodded at your words, wiping away her tears and letting out a long sigh before putting her glasses back on and heading back to her office to do what she did best.

Once again you were left alone, pacing around the empty office with your thoughts as your only company. You hated the waiting, the uncertainty and the fear tightening in your chest and making it hard to breathe. You wanted to believe that Spencer would be okay, but the truth was you didn't know. There was no way to be sure the team would get to him in time and the mere possibility that something bad could happen to him was driving you crazy.

Your eyes were glued to the screen of your phone, reading over and over again the last texts you and Spencer had shared as you prayed they wouldn't turn out to be your final conversation. He had warned you that he would be a little late and apologized for ruining your first dinner in your new apartment. You had been quick to reply that it wasn't a problem, assuring him that the extra time would help you finish preparing dinner. Your last message telling him you loved him and to be careful still remained unread and you couldn't help but wonder if he really knew how much you meant it. You hoped he knew how much you loved him and how happy you were to have him in your life. He was the best thing that ever happened to you and you refused to accept that your story would end like this after all you had gone through to be together.

Just as you were about to go to Penelope to ask her if they had any progress on the case, your phone vibrated with a message from her. You almost dropped the device to the floor when you read the words 'Spencer is fine', feeling your muscles relax as a wave of relief swept through your body. You didn't even answer her, opting to go find her to ask her what she knew. However, you discovered that she wasn't in her office, so you went to the conference room where they used to have all their meetings. Then you saw through the glass the crowd of people gathered in the bullpen, among whom you distinguished the figure of Spencer being hugged and kissed by his friends.

You ran out of the office into his arms without a second thought, breaking some speed record in the process. When you called his name he turned to you and your vision blurred with tears as you noticed the purplish red tone on the skin of his temple and the corner of his lips. You hated to see him hurt, even though it was minimal considering the complexity of the situation. You knew things could have turned out much worse, but you still couldn't help but be upset at the image of the love of your life beaten and hurt.

“Thank god you’re okay, I was so worried.” You murmured against his chest as Spencer pulled you tightly into his arms. You let the warmth of his body envelop you, slowly calming your nerves. He was there. He was okay. He had come back to you and that was all that mattered to you.

"I'm okay," he assured you, placing a delicate kiss on the crown of your head. The scent of your hair brought him back home, filling his insides with that warm feeling that only you awakened in him. He was fine, he had you in his arms and that was all he needed to regain his composure.

You pulled away briefly so you could look at him, taking his face in your hands while your eyes scanned his wounds. It was nothing serious, just a couple of bruises that would disappear in a few days. You let your fingers caress his skin delicately before shortening the little distance that separated you, joining your lips in a kiss. You didn't think about the fact that you were in the middle of the office or that the entire BAU team was behind you watching the scene, the world around you wasn't a concern at that moment. You only cared about Spencer and the way his lips moved against yours, showing you how happy he was to be back in your arms too.

It was a delicate, yet powerful kiss. You didn't want to put too much pressure on his lips so as not to hurt him, but you didn't need it to let him know how much you loved him and how worried you had been about him. For a moment you had thought that you weren't going to get another chance to do that, to kiss him with everything you had, to tell him that you loved him one more time. It was something that terrified you, so now that you finally had him back with you, you didn't want to pass up the chance to join your lips one more time.

However, your beautiful magical moment was interrupted by the high pitched voice of Penelope, who was admiring the scene with surprise.

“Oh my god! You two!”

You abruptly pulled away from Spencer, finally realizing what you had done. You were grateful to have your back to the team, so the only one who could see the panic in your eyes was your boyfriend, who smiled at you in amusement. You knew the situation wasn't so terrible, but this wasn't how you had imagined telling others about your relationship with Spencer.

"I fucked it up, didn't I?" you whispered so only he could hear you.

"Yep."

"And they're all staring at us, aren't they?" Spencer looked over your shoulder for a moment, passing his gaze over the group of profilers who were admiring you with surprised and happy expressions on their faces. Then he returned his gaze to your face and nodded, earning a grunt from you as you hid into his chest, seeking refuge from the inevitable comments and questions that were to come.

"I can't believe you two! How could you keep this a secret?" You heard Penelope complaining behind your back, speaking increasingly faster and in a high-pitched tone. "How long has this been going on?"

"You don't really want to know." You told her, emerging from your refuge in Spencer's chest to face your sister. She let out a gasp, clearly surprised by your response.

"How long?" she insisted, almost feeling betrayed that you kept something so important hidden from her for who knows how long.

You and Spencer shared a look before you let out a sigh. "Since your birthday party at Rossi's place." You confessed and Penelope's jaw dropped, unable to believe that you had been able to keep your relationship a secret for so long. "Oh and also, since we're sharing, I don't have any friends named Sophie." You added, amused by your sister's expression.

"Oh I'm so mad right now, but I'm also so happy for you guys! You’re so lucky I love you! Come here!" Penelope enveloped you in a tight hug before you could object. She planted a loud kiss on each of your cheeks, repeating how happy she was for you, before letting the rest of the team congratulate you.

"I knew I saw something between you the other day!" Emily stressed, remembering when she had caught you together at the bar. Now that she knew the truth it was obvious that you were together, but at the time she hadn't given it much thought. You guys had been dancing around each other since she had joined the team so many years ago, so she thought it was just you being you. She was happy to be wrong though, you two deserved to finally be happy.

You were enveloped in the warm love of your friends, who showered you with positive wishes for your future. It was a nice ending to such a horrible day, exactly what you needed to finally quiet your troubled mind. It definitely wasn't the way you imagined revealing your relationship with Spencer, but you were happy it had happened. It reminded you that as long as you had Spencer by your side and your family close by life was beautiful no matter the adversities.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer x fem reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader angst

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onlyhuis · 1 month

Text

late night talking

member — minghao x f reader genre — angst, idk if there's enough fluff for this to count as hurt/comfort but the ending is sort of happy ? word count — 2.1k synopsis — the best and worst conversations always happen at 1am. warnings — reader is very drunk and very very insecure, lots of crying, lots of internal back & forth, unreliable narrator moment, refers to reader as girlfriend/my girl/etc., idk if i'm missing anything else but lmk if i am notes — this is an old fic that i never really intended to be released but @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions convinced me otherwise. sorry this is not at all what i normally post lmao i swear don't write like this often i just found this in my drive that i wrote when i was in a very shitty mood. we will return to your regularly scheduled smut programming soon i promise lmao! leave a comment in the reblogs or send an ask if you enjoyed this? idk i am nervous to post this pls don't perceive me too much

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you're ugly when you're drunk.

“hao?”

your voice rings throughout the house, the sound shaky and quieter than usual.

he wouldn't even have known you were home if he hadn't heard your friend's car pull up minutes ago, bright headlights flashing through the bedroom window. he wouldn't have known, if he wasn't already worried sick at you being gone so long and consuming an unknown amount of alcohol. he should've been there with you, but too much was riding on the deadline for his students’ grades that had to be finished before midnight. any other day he would've been by your side the whole night, a steady hand on your arm for balance and a sharp eye on your glass just in case. he loves playing the role of protective boyfriend, letting his girl do whatever she wants because he'll always be there to watch over her. but he couldn't do that tonight, and it tears him up inside.

he hears your trudging footsteps down the hall, soft footfalls signalling your approach as you drag yourself towards the room. he pretends not to hear; he doesn't want to make a big deal out of this and embarrass you.

“you're home early,” he comments with a chuckle, but his sarcasm is lost on you in this state. it's well after 1 in the morning, and you tilt your head in confusion at his words, brows deeply furrowed.

“what— are you working on?” you ask after a moment, focusing all your energy on not stumbling over your words.

you know how drunk you are, he knows how drunk you are, but even now you're still putting on an act. you hate feeling stupid in front of him, and right now you couldn't feel any stupider. the worst part is that you feel as stupid when you're sober as you do right now, but you couldn't tell him that.

he pauses, choosing his next words carefully as he surveys your current state. he can't risk hurting your feelings, especially in such a vulnerable headspace.

“grading finals,” he decides on. not too detailed to confuse you, not too simplified to make you feel stupid, just enough to make you feel involved.

distantly you feel your eyes welling up with tears. you don't know why, but at the same time you know exactly why. you're never good enough compared to him, not when you come home drunk in the dead of night, and he never does. not when he's so good at everything he touches, so talented and beautiful and perfect, and you're… not.

he deserves someone at his level, an artistic genius like him who can help him with his work. someone with an eye for his paintings, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone who can keep him on his toes. someone who won't drag him down and burden him with your obvious lack of skill and your quality of being so embarrassingly lightweight that you need to be supervised at all times.

“i’m sorry,” you finally muster. you can't find the words to explain what you mean, but you hope he's able to sense your sincerity.

“what for?” he asks. his voice is softer now.

you hate it when he uses that voice. he's talking down to you, talking like you're a child and he has to explain everything to you in the gentlest way possible because you aren't capable of handling the truth.

you love when he uses that voice. sometimes he can be so blunt it almost feels isolating, but when he talks to you like you're a child in that sweet, gentle, kind tone you feel like everything will be okay. he can soften himself for you, drop his straightforward persona around you and be the tender man you know he's capable of being.

you lift your eyes to his computer screen and the feelings you've been struggling with float back into view. “i'm sorry,” you repeat, voice cracking despite the effort you put in to stop it from breaking. it's all you can say.

you don't notice when the tears overflow, bursting from your eyes without a sound. you're embarrassing, you're an idiot, standing in front of him with red eyes and hunched shoulders as tears stream down your cheeks. you don't even feel them fall.

if he knows what you're trying to convey with your tearful apologies, he doesn't mention it.

of course he knows, how could he not when he's so astute with everything? you suck at keeping things to yourself.

of course he doesn't know, why would he take the time out of his busy schedule to care about how you're feeling? you're not worth his energy.

the moment seems to stretch on for eternity, standing in front of him. you don't know why you started dating in the first place; he doesn't have the time, you're too annoying, too clingy, too affectionate. standing in front of him, you don't feel anything. you just feel cold.

you turn to drag yourself out of the room, deciding that you've embarrassed yourself enough by now. you don't know where you'll go or what you're doing, probably to pour yourself a glass of water and try to sleep on the couch. obviously he won't want you to sleep in his bed when you’re like this, why should he? you aren’t deserving of that privilege.

but then you feel a warm hand on your wrist, gently tugging you back towards him. you lose your balance, stumble over your feet, fall onto his lap. you're mortified, barely able to get another “sorry” out before trying to stand again on wobbly legs. you shouldn't be here. you're so aware, so painfully conscious of your weight on him, every ounce of energy you have left fighting to keep yourself from annoying him even further but it feels like it's too late. everything that comes from you is too little, too late.

“no,” he says. his tone is still that soft, sweet sound, but his voice is firm and you don't try to get up again. “we can talk tomorrow,” he says as he begins to run his hand along your back, and you hate yourself for the way you instantly melt at his touch. “just… relax. calm down.”

your body slouches against his chest, feeling like a puddle on his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck whether you meant to or not. your legs dangle limply off his lap, arms wrapped loosely around the back of his chair as he holds you.

“it's okay,” he says simply, still stroking his hand along your back in small, soothing motions. “it's okay.” he repeats the words, maybe to convince himself but mostly to convince you from having a breakdown. even now when he's treating you so delicately, your brain won't let you rest: he's probably scared of you, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean any of it and he's using whatever means necessary to stop you from turning hysterical or even violent. of course it doesn't mean anything to him.

“how much did you drink tonight, baby?” he asks, and you know you should take that as judgmental but you don't have the energy left anymore. you don't note the twinge of concern in his voice, you can't see the look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“a little— a lot,” you answer, somewhat truthfully. the real truth is that you lost count. you weren't trying to get drunk, but one turned into two turned into ten and before you even knew what you were doing a car was dropping you off in front of your house.

he shifts his legs for you to sit more comfortably on his lap, and as much as you want to fight it you don't have the strength to. “do you want to go to bed?” he asks gently. “or do you want to stay up with me?”

“don't… want you to go to bed ‘cuz of me,” you mumble against his neck. god, his skin is so soft and warm. you couldn't move your body right now even if you tried. “not your fault.”

“what kind of guy would i be if i didn't take care of my girlfriend when she needs me?” he asks. “i can put you to bed if you want. it's alright. it's late anyway.”

“it's not– your job,” you manage to reply, and his hand on your back stops for a second.

“it is my job,” he says softly. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “i'm sorry if you feel like i haven't done that.”

“please, don't— no sorry,” you choke out as fresh tears prick at your eyes. “it's my fault. i'm sorry. it's my fault.”

he holds you tighter, both arms wrapped around you on his lap now. “it's not your fault,” he says in that same firm but gentle voice. “you haven't done anything wrong at all. it's alright, baby, i promise. you don't have anything to worry about. why are you sorry?”

“i don't know,” you mumble. your hand clutches at his chest unconsciously, balling his t-shirt in your fist. “i dunno. i love you. i dunno.”

“i love you, too,” he says after a beat. the tears, the drunken outburst, he just lets it all happen. without a word of complaint. despite the voices in your head fighting to convince you otherwise, he never says a single negative thing to you.

you know he's not normally like this. with everyone else he's polite, unemotional, reserved. he's never vulnerable. which is why you're so confused right now.

“why?” you slur, still grasping onto hope.

he hums in questioning, nudging you to elaborate.

“why are you like this to me?”

but now he's the one who's confused. “like what?”

you pause, and the room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound your shallow breaths against his chest. “nice.”

for all his knowledge, this time he's actually lost. “why would i not be nice to you?”

“i don't deserve it.”

he shifts again, pulling you closer to his chest as he starts to run his fingers through his hair. “of course you do, baby.”

“you don't deserve me.”

he stops again, this time in shock. “hey. that's not true.”

“is too true,” you say. your eyes are closed and you can't help the frown overtaking your face. “you should have somebody you deserve. it's not me.”

he just sighs, and you feel his chest expand beneath your cheek at the deep breath he takes. “i love you, baby. not anyone else. you'll feel better in the morning, and we can talk then. but i'm not mad at you, okay? there's nothing wrong. everything's okay.”

you try to mimic his sigh, but the angle you're laying at on his chest and the alcohol in your system makes it hard to breathe deeply.

“do you want to keep sitting with me?” he asks. he knows how much you like the sounds his keyboard makes, the quiet tapping as he enters grades and types comments to his students about things you could never fathom to understand.

your eyes stay closed and your head doesn't move. “yeah,” you murmur softly.

he settles back into his chair, you curled up on his lap. he's not doing much, he's finished the worst of it and now just entering numbers. he glances down at your figure, almost asleep on him, and he feels an ache in his chest.

every emotion feels amplified to you right now, but if it took getting blackout drunk for you to finally say it then it must've been weighing on you for a long time coming. he wonders how long you've felt like this, felt inadequate compared to him, and it makes him pause. it was never his intention. when you're awake and sober and hopefully not massively hungover, then you can talk, and he can make this right.

he loves the person snuggled against his chest, loves the feeling of you comforted and protected by him, and he'll do anything to make sure you know that. he'll do anything to let you see yourself the way he sees you. above all the worries he has about you, he knows one thing for sure.

you're cute when you're drunk.

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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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