#‘is he texting his boyfriend’ WRONG he’s reading his work emails

[qweenofurheart]

timothy’s jokes don’t always land

[radiant-reid]

Exposed

Summary: You and Spencer don't realize how many of your not-safe-for-work conversations have been on the FBI's radar until a memo gets distributed

Word Count 1.0k

Content Warning: NSFW (18+) themes

Similar to how it's never good to get called into the principal's office, it's never good when Hotch calls a meeting in the middle of the day. With no case, active or pending, curious looks get exchanged before the team when Hotch speaks from the landing before you all climb the stairs and follow Hotch to the boardroom.

Spencer slyly sits next to you, pretending he didn't notice Morgan was going to sit there. He taps your foot under the table, which you didn't understand could be flirtatious before you met Spencer.

Always a straight shooter (metaphorically and literally), Hotch doesn't waste any time. He hands a copy of a stapled stack of paper to each of you but stays standing, hinting that it will be a quick meeting. Thankfully, that means nothing is wrong.

Your eyes widen when you read the cover page: Sexual Harassment Memorandum.

A tiny giggle escapes JJ's lips as everyone looks at Penelope and Morgan, who are likely the guilty parties. They both look a little nervous, Penelope grimacing while Morgan stiffens in his seat.

"The brass has caught on to some less-than-work-appropriate language used by members of this team," Hotch informs you all. "And, although we have more important things to do like saving lives, they want this memo of inappropriate language examples distributed."

Besides the hilariousness of the passive-aggressive telling-off, it amuses you that Hotch thinks it's a waste of time.

"Please read through it and refrain from using these words when there's an outside audience." He finishes.

"That outside audience being Erin Strauss," Rossi comments in a low enough whisper Hotch can pretend he didn't hear the insult at his superior.

"That's all." Hotch wraps up the meeting before leaving the room, presumably to finish work that's actually important.

Everyone's wearing amused grins when Hotch leaves. "Busted." Rossi sing-songs to Morgan and Penelope, who are looking very guilty. "Have fun, kids." He laughs before leaving the room.

You notice the thickness of the new list of forbidden phrases. "Damn, how much flirting have you two done since the last time you got in trouble with HR?" You joke, earning a laugh from the table.

The list is amusing to read, everyone laughing at the memories. It was definitely not HR's intent, but it breaks up the monotonous day.

Reading pages ahead, Spencer stiffens next to you, and you're on edge about what he's read. After eight years, he's heard some lewd things come out of Penelope and Morgan's mouths, so it's unlikely one of their comments would have phased him.

You see it when you skim-read a few quotes: you looked sexy in your glasses earlier. You can remember exactly when you typed that. It was a stakeout where you were assigned to sit in a car with Morgan while Spencer sat with Emily, and you were so bored you thought you'd flirt with your boyfriend. It's not too revealing regarding who it was about, and Penelope wears glasses, so hopefully, it goes unnoticed.

It doesn't.

"Wait, I never said that," Morgan says, finger hovering over the quote.

"Which one?" Emily asks, intrigued.

"You looked sexy in your glasses earlier." He repeats what you'd texted Spencer, busting you both. You kick him under the table when you notice the blush spreading around your boyfriend's neck.

The rest of the team is puzzled, not understanding how it couldn't be them. "Are the rest yours?" Emily asks.

"You're on my most-wanted list." Morgan reads the contents of the email Spencer sent you with an attachment to the FBI's updated most wanted list. That one was situationally inappropriate, but you deleted it twice and told Spencer to do the same, so you're not sure how they got it.

They read through a few more that aren’t theirs, and you grow increasingly worried about how curious they will be. There’s no chance they’ll let it go. As profilers, won’t take them long to figure it out, especially when your boyfriend is blushing like a maniac next to you, no matter how much you kick him under the table.

The most damming one is on the last page: that sweater vest is very sexy. Olive green is your color. It’s from a few weeks ago, spoken over Spencer’s earpiece as he infiltrated a poker competition to apprehend an UnSub.

“This is about you.” Emily immediately picks up, looking at Spencer.

“Yeah, and you wore your glasses a couple of months ago,” Penelope remembers. Although he played it off like his contact lenses didn’t get delivered before he ran out, it was really because he left them at his apartment when he stayed at yours one night and you distracted him for so long in the morning that he didn’t have time to get any.  

Spencer cringes, looking totally guilty. There’s no point in denying it, so Morgan lays into the next part of the mystery. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

That’s much easier to solve when there are four women around the table, and Penelope couldn’t be sexually attracted to him, JJ’s married, and Emily’s like his big sister, so that leaves you.

“No way!” Penelope squeals excitedly, clearly thrilled by this big reveal.

“Some of this is filthy,” Emily says, pointing out some very dirty messages. They were mostly over phone calls which is why you didn’t think they could be tracked.

You bite your bottom lip, eyes flicking to Spencer. He’s as amused as he is embarrassed. “Surprise?” He jokes to reveal your relationship.

You smirk, joining him in his unashamed stance. It’s not your fault the FBI won’t overlook your occasional flirting. “It’s worse on our personal phones.” You assure them.

“I want to know everything,” Penelope tells you. “We’re having girls’ night ASAP.”

It’s not the reaction you imagine, but Spencer shrugs. He has been reassured countless times that he leaves you more than satisfied in bed. “Just remember you’ll have to look at me the next day.” He warns the BAU ladies who are desperate to hear the insider details of your relationship.

It's a good point to consider but the gossip is too tempting. “Tonight.” Penelope decides.

You laugh at her eagerness, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

[chlix]

souvenirs

pairing: seungmin x reader

genre: fluff, light angst (???)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: vague references to depression (in a sense)

synopsis: It's getting harder to get through the day, lately. seungmin helps

a/n: the way this is borderline nonsense aksdjhlfajkd i've been exhausted from work lately and this is what i spit out,,,excuse the fact that my metaphors are all mixed together

You're sitting on the couch with your hand above your face, watching your rings glimmer in the afternoon light. Your head is reading on Seungmin's thigh as he reads a book he bought while he was in Paris, something about local birds and migratory patterns. He’s been trying to read more lately, says it’s important for self-improvement. You wonder what self-improvement could come from understanding the ecological niche of French swallows.

“It’s not about the information,” he says. “It’s about learning to parse meaning from text. It’s a brain exercise.”

You think your brain gets plenty exercise. You want to join him on his quest for media literacy, but your brain is too fried to process written language most days. Work takes everything out of you, and then you have to come home and worry about classes and the laundry and all the other things you’re responsible for each day, and it keeps you from being able to focus on any individual thing, in the end. Even now, you're meant to be relaxing, a rare afternoon off when neither you nor your boyfriend has anything important to do, but you can't relax. Your gut is tight, and your head feels stretched thin. In your mind's eye you can see your desk, your laptop, all the work and emails and papers piling up. It's hard to breathe if you think about it for too long.

The sun is so pretty on your gold rings. Seungmin bought them for you in Paris from a vendor’s stand on his way to the airport. They're not real gold; one of them is already tarnishing, and the gems inlaid in another are chipping, clearly fake and not at all real garnets. But he thought you’d much prefer to have the “authentic” experience of a tourist Paris, and wear something you would’ve gotten yourself had you gone.

"If I went to Paris, I would’ve asked you to send me your card details," you'd said after he gave them to you. "I wouldn't have settled for tacky fakes.”

“You don’t even wear jewelry,” Seungmin threw back at you. “You would’ve only put them on to post them to your Instagram story, and then you’d never wear them again.”

“I would wear them if they were from Paris.”

“And so from Paris they are.”

It’s become something of a running joke. Every time you post a picture of yourself, you make sure one of your hands is visible, and with it, the rings. Of course, for this to be possible, you end up wearing them almost every day. In the end, Seungmin is right that it doesn’t really matter that the rings are cheap fakes. They’re beautiful, and they complement your skin tone, and Seungmin had bought them for you, so you don’t really care they’re from a cheap street vendor. First and foremost, they’re from your boyfriend, a souvenir he’d carried thousands of miles back to you, like those birds he’s reading about crossing large bodies of water to find their families back home.

You take one off and hold it directly above your head, looking through the hole like a lens at the ceiling above you. You zero in on the sunlight dancing across the ceiling, getting caught in the brass rings on your curtains and bouncing around in delight.

"You're thinking so loud," Seungmin says.

"Well, stop eavesdropping," you reply.

"It's not eavesdropping if you're loud," Seungmin says. "What's wrong?"

What's always wrong, you want to ask, but you don't know if that's helpful or vindictive, so you don’t. Instead, you say,

"I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

“They’re worth more than that,” you say, absent. You're still looking through your lens. You're waiting to see something appear on the other side. Like Coraline’s seeing stone, you think to yourself, ignoring everything outside the metallic ring. If I look through it I can see a new reality.

Seungmin reaches up and takes the ring out of your hand.

“Boyfriend discount,” he says, teasing. He turns the ring over in his fingers curiously.

“Is this the ring from Paris?”

You hum.

“It’s tarnishing.”

“It’s cheap. That’s what happens with cheap things. They break down.” You reach for it, but he holds it out of your reach.

“A shame. Now what will you have to remember Paris by?”

“I didn’t even go, moron,” you say. “I never do anything that fun.” You mean to be lighthearted, but your voice is bitter, hard.

“That’s not true. You do fun things all the time. You’re the interesting one, not me.”

You actually laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s true. If I wasn’t in an idol group, I would never go anywhere. I would have gotten a boring office job and been a salaryman, and I never would’ve even met you.”

Maybe that would be for the best, you think, but you know better than to say it. You've both grown tired of conversations about not deserving each other; there’s no denying you guys are in this for life. You love Seungmin so much it’s embarrassing, so much that you go to all his shows and sound checks, so much that you buy newspapers with his face on them and stick them on your coffee table even though you never read a single page. You love him enough that you stay up late and call him at odd times at night when he’s off in Europe headlining a music festival, so much so that you wear tarnished rings from a stupid Parisian street vendor just because he bought them and you love him and you want to look at your hands every single day and think about how much he loves you. So much so that you fantasize about the day he’ll give you a ring that won’t tarnish, because it’ll be real gold, and it’ll sit prim and shiny untouched on your currently unadorned ring finger. It’s not about deserving. If it was about deserving, you’d never have it. But you will have it, someday.

It's not someday yet, though.

"However you used to be, or could be, I'm the boring one now. I'm tired all the time. I have nothing to talk about most days except my work. And the work never ends. I'm not even a housewife. I'm something worse." It’s toeing the line of how much self-deprecation Seungmin will allow, and sure enough, he fights back.

"You said you wanted to keep your jobs. You said you liked them."

"I do like my jobs. And I like having money. Very low bar for me, liking things that I need to survive.”

"Is there a lot going on lately?" Seungmin holds the ring out between his thumb and middle finger, surrendering it back to you. You slide your finger back through the hole easily, reunited with your prices possession once more. Crossing portals, becoming whole, something else metaphorical that would fix you, that would make this conversation easier.

"Like I said, just a lot on my mind."

You don’t know why this is so hard.

Seungmin has always been willing to hear you out, knowing you're not one to complain when you don't need to. But something about this situation is getting to you, this prison of your own making, of trying to do everything in your own. You don't let Seungmin support you and then complain about working. You say you want fulfillment through education and then cry about midterms. You move miles away from your family to earn your independence and then wax depressive about how you're not seeing your baby sister grow up. It must be tiring for him, not just as someone who’s made similar sacrifices for his idol career, but just as a person on earth who has to listen to you all day. You don't like to be whiny. You understand your choices, and you don't regret them. You regret very little of your life, and very little of yourself, even on your worst days, but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck.

"Thinking loud again,” Seungmin says.

"Does that mean the thoughts are worth more?" you ask, but there's no mirth in your voice.

"You can tell me anything, you know," he says, and you do know. Of course, you know.

"Take your own advice," you say. "It's like pulling teeth with you.'

"You shouldn't pick up my bad habits," Seungmin says. "You have plenty of your own."

He isn't saying it to be mean, it's just true. There are so many parts of yourself you prefer to ignore, this being one of them. Seungmin is all about self-improvement. Hence the book on swallows, and the afternoon off. Hence the way he's not demanding you tell him what's wrong and is instead letting you decide. He's working on being less impatient, more empathic. You're working on honesty. To be honest it's like pulling teeth for both of you.

Talking with Seungmin like this is doing...something. It isn't really making it easier to breathe, and it's not helping you ignore the piles of work you have left, but it does make it easier to remember that you two are a team in this. In being people. In suffering and paying rent and being maybe not so good with money, if he’s willing to waste it on street trinkets that will just tarnish within the year and you’re willing to encourage him by wearing them.

You're drowning in work, you both are, always, but then, the work isn't here with you, is it? Here it's Sunday afternoon, and it's golden hour, and you're on the couch with your boyfriend. And you still don't really want to tell him what the problem is, because you're afraid he'll laugh, even though he clearly won't. He would never laugh at you. He doesn't find most of what you do funny for him to start making jokes now.

"Buy me fried chicken and I might give you a thought or two," you say. "I'm bringing back the barter system.”

“Traditionalist," he says.

"True innovation is found in retrospection," you say. "I’ll make it a BOGO. Combining old with new.”

"Enough metaphors," he says. “What place do you want to order from?"

You pretend to be offended. "You don’t know my chicken order?"

"Now you're just inventing things. Coffee order, sure, even dessert order. But chicken order?”

"If you don't love me, just say that."

“This is why your thoughts are only worth a penny, just so you know."

You grin, looking up at him. You're not looking at his face through the ring, but it feels like you're seeing another world anyway, a universe where there's Just the two of you, a universe sustained only by your love.

Who cares about migrating birds, as long as Seungmin keeps flying home to you.

[avatar-anna]

Grief Fic, Part 2

this is a continuation of the fic i posted a few weeks ago where reader helps harry with his grief. you can read the first part here!

tw: themes/mentions of abuse/domestic violence.

as always, i try to be as sensitive as possible, and i never want to offend anyone or make them uncomfortable. there's nothing in this fic that's overly explicit, but there are mentions and allusions to dv.

Harry looked down at his phone and wondered if he was crazy for thinking it was strange that Y/n hadn't so much as emailed him in weeks.

Perhaps he was crazy. Perhaps he was putting too much thought into a situation that didn't actually exist. Perhaps he was reading a little too much into the fact that Y/n's new boyfriend was a raging asshole who was slowly but surely isolating her from all her friends and family.

Perhaps he wasn't crazy.

It wasn't like it was unusual for Y/n not to talk to Harry consistently. Both of them were plenty busy. He was a full time dad and simultaneously juggled a pretty successful music career—if he did say so himself—and she was the head nurse in the Labor and Delivery wing of a huge hospital. They went days without talking. It happened.

But this silence felt different.

It started with Y/n declining invitations. Sometimes Harry would invite her to a show if he was performing in town, or out for drinks when he needed a break from helping Harper with schoolwork and dance classes and Girl Scout troop meetings. Harry had plenty of friends he could go to and hang out with, but Y/n understood him in a way no one else did. She was Harper's godmother, had been his late wife's best friend. There were just some things that Harry felt comfortable talking to and confiding in with Y/n that he didn't with anyone else.

So when she started declining invitations to go out and stopped dropping by the house, Harry felt her absence. When she stopped coming over to see Harper, he'd became annoyed. And when she arrived late to their monthly family dinner looking like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks, he became worried.

"I've been picking up extra shifts at the hospital," she'd said, trying to wave off her fatigue. But Harry knew better. He'd known Y/n long enough to tell the difference between exhaustion from work and...whatever she was now.

And now she wasn't speaking to him at all. Harry called, texted, left messages at the hospital, and she didn't respond to a anything. As days went by, Harry couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that something was seriously wrong with his friend.

His last effort was going to see her in person. Harry had managed to find out from one of Y/n's coworkers that she was off today, so he drove to her house, only when he knocked on the door, his friend wasn't the one who answered.

"What do you want?"

Harry had had the pleasure of meeting Y/n's boyfriend once, and for him, once was enough. He wasn't overtly rude—though now Harry would say otherwise—he just didn't really acknowledge his or Harper's presence the whole afternoon they were together. And while Harry realized that not everyone was a fan of kids, he couldn't help but think Y/n's boyfriend's icy demeanor toward his daughter was very telling.

Doing his best to swallow his negative thoughts and feelings, Harry mustered a smile. "I'm here to see Y/n. Is she here?"

"No."

"Okay...Do you know when she'll be back?" Harry asked, getting the feeling that extracting information from the man in front of him was probably going to be similar to pulling teeth.

"That's none of your concern."

Y/n's boyfriend tried to close the door in Harry's face, but Harry was having none of that. Putting his hand on the door, he said, "You know what? I think I'll just wait inside for her. It's pretty urgent."

"Back the fuck up—"

"Excuse me? You back the fuck—"

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

For a moment, relief washed over Harry. Y/n was alive, which Harry seriously started to doubt for a second there. Then, as his eyes did a quick scan of Y/n, some of that dread started to creep back in.

"Are you okay? What happened to you?"

She had fading bruises on one wrist, and harsh red marks on the other. Hand prints, Harry realized as he narrowed his eyes. He looked over at Y/n's boyfriend furiously. "What the fuck did you do to her?"

"None of your fucking business, popstar. Now get the fuck off my property."

Civility had flown out the window. Harry wasn't about to let this prick get in his face or treat Y/n like that. He didn't care who saw or if he was about to come to blows with this guy. All Harry knew was that the bastard had hurt his best friend, and Harry couldn't let him get away with that. "Get out of my face, of I swear I'll—"

"You'll what? What? What are you gonna—"

"Enough! Harry, please. I'm fine. Now's really not a good time. Please, just—please go."

Y/n had frantically put herself between Harry and her boyfriend, and now that they were so close, he could see just how dark the rings around her eyes were, just how hollow her cheeks had become. The shirt she was wearing was too loose on her. What the hell was going on here?

"Harry, please. Go."

Y/n sounded scared as she pleaded with him, and that told him everything he needed to know. "Promise you'll call me," he said, taking her hand in his. "Promise, Y/n."

Nodding quickly, she squeezed his hand feebly. "I promise."

Harry went reluctantly, nearly stormed over to her boyfriend and beat the shit out of him when he saw the smug smile on the bastard's face. But he swallowed his anger and frustration, not wanting Y/n to get caught in the crossfire.

When he got home, Harry was a nervous wreck. He was distracted as he made dinner and cleaned up around the house. Part of him was glad Harper was spending the weekend with Soph's parents so she wouldn't see him like this, but he could've used their nighttime routine to take his mind off things.

He waited. And waited. Nearly stayed up all night in the hopes that she would call him. He must've fallen asleep at some point, though, as he woke up with a start on his couch. When he turned his phone on, there was nothing from Y/n.

*.*

"You were there for me, Y/n. What makes you think I wouldn't do the same for you."

"I don't want your help—I don't need your help, so just—just let it go, Harry!"

"He's trying to isolate you, Y/n," Harry said gently. "He's creating a wall between you and everyone who loves you and knows you and wants what's best for you. Can't you see that?"

Harry looked at Y/n sadly, which only seemed to piss her off even more than she already was. She'd been defensive, tried to convince him that she didn't need his pity or his help. This wasn't the same scenario, she insisted. She wasn't a danger to herself the way he had been two years ago. She was fine. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

It was all spilling out of her, yet it only made it more clear to Harry that she needed him.

"That's not what's happening. He's my boyfriend. Why wouldn't we spend time alone together?"

"Harper misses you," he said, going for a different angle. "She keeps asking when she'll get to see you, and I can't give her a straight answer. We're your family, Y/n, and he won't let you see us."

"That's not—That's not fair," Y/n said, not wanting to believe the truth, which was that Harry might be right.

"What's going on out here?"

"You're right. It isn't. It isn't fair that you call me crying three times a week because your boyfriend is out and you can't reach him. It isn't fair that he expects you to cook and clean for him when he's a grown man and you have a full time job. It isn't fair that he belittles you and—" Harry paused, the emotion he felt catching in his voice as he thought about the state of her wrists the last time he saw her.

He hadn't seen Y/n in weeks, but a few days after he went to her house, she called Harry absolutely beside herself at the situation she was in. He talked to her for hours, calming her down and reassuring her that he was there and so was his home if she needed somewhere to get away. And for the first time, Harry was convinced that Y/n was seeing reason.

Until days passed and she never left him, which led to a weeks-long cycle of her calling him crying, him comforting her over the phone while she convinced him she was done, and somehow never ended up leaving him. Harry finally couldn't take it any longer and drove to her place again. Seeing her slowly whither away, seeing her less and less physically because her boyfriend wouldn't let her hang out with him or Harper, it killed him. "It isn't fair that he's turned you into this—this shell of the person you once were. It's not right, Y/n—"

Harry didn't miss the way Y/n jumped at the sound of his voice, or the way she subconsciously curled in on herself. It was like she wilted every time he walked into a room, or tried to be as small as possible so he wouldn't notice her. How could she not realize it?

"Nothing, baby. Go back inside," Y/n, her hand shaking as she rested it on his arm.

"Is he giving you trouble? I thought I told you I didn't like you hanging out with him. What's he doing here?" he said, sending a withering glare Harry's way.

Harry stared right back, unwilling to let the piece of shit unnerve him. He had half a mind to say something when Y/n spoke up first.

"He was just going, I promise," she said, turning her eyes on Harry pleadingly.

Harry wanted to say something so badly. He wanted to shake his best friend by the shoulders and make her see reason. This man she called a boyfriend wasn't a man at all, but a monster, and he hated how much Y/n had changed because of him.

But Y/n still couldn't see what he saw, and starting a fight when he knew she would side with her boyfriend wouldn't do any good. It would probably just isolate her even more than she already was, which said something. It had been hard for Harry to tell when he was on the road, but now that he was back for a few months, his stomach was constantly in knots.

It made him miss his wife sometimes. Harry knew that Sophia would know exactly what to say to Y/n, to Harry. She would've been the voice of reason in all of this mess; she would've stopped this mess before it even started. And Harry couldn't help but feel partly to blame for not being around for Y/n when it was so clear she needed someone to look out for her. She'd always been so good at helping others, but it was as if she gave all her kindness and compassion to her patients and friends and family and saved none of it for herself.

"Go, Harry. Please."

Harry could see it, then. The terror. The fear that something might escalate if he stayed, which meant that at least on some level, Y/n knew that her boyfriend was bad news. So why put up with him?

He didn't want to go, but he didn't see any alternatives. Promising himself that he'd call first thing tomorrow morning, Harry nodded and backed down the walkway that led to Y/n's home.

*.*

It was a few weeks later when Harry spoke to Y/n again. He texted her constantly, and sometimes he would get a response. Then all of a sudden, nothing. It was like she'd gone radio silent again. Harry never liked involving Harper in all this, but just once he had her try to call Y/n, but there was still no answer, which was when he really started to worry. Y/n might have cut him off, but he never thought she would do the same to his daughter.

So now he was driving to the hospital. As far as he knew, Y/n was still working in L&D, and even if she wasn't working today, he hoped to get some answers from her coworkers.

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry mustered a small smile for Miranda, Y/n's friend at work. He saw her often when he and Harper visited Y/n at the hospital, and she would always give Harper sweets from behind the counter. "My secret stash," Miranda would say with a wink. Harry never really considered the Labor and Delivery wing of a hospital somewhere where his daughter enjoyed spending her time, but they went often enough that he was pretty sure she liked it more than going to the park.

"Miranda. Hey. Is Y/n in today?"

The cheery look on Miranda's face faltered, which told Harry everything he needed to know. "She, um, she called out today. Said it was the flu."

"Do we really believe that?" Harry said.

Miranda's expression looked strained. "I—I don't know, Harry. I don't like to talk about it."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said. It was awkward to talk about Y/n when she wasn't here. Miranda was just a work friend, but Harry could tell that she knew more about Y/n's situation than she let on. But even so, it would be uncomfortable to talk about. "I'm—I'm just worried, that's all. "

"I know you are, Harry. I, um, I can spare a few minutes in just a bit if you want to wait over there," she said, nodding her head toward the waiting room where families and future fathers were anxiously awaiting good news.

Desperate, Harry nodded and found a seat in the waiting room. The minute he sat down, his leg bounced anxiously while his fingers toyed with his bottom lip. He just couldn't help but feel like something bad was going to happen. His stomach twisted itself into knots to the point where he had to bend over and wait for the stress to pass, but every time one of his texts or calls went unanswered, it just got worse.

"Is this your first?"

Startled, Harry looked to his left to find a man about his age sitting two seats away from him. He also looked nervous, but in an excited sort of way. Harry's brows furrowed for a moment before remembering where he was sitting. "Oh, um no. My friend works here. I'm just waiting for her."

Seeing this man did distract Harry in a way. He remembered his own experience as an expectant father. Sophia had gone into labor a few weeks early, and Harry was on the other side of town buying some last minute things for the baby when he got the call. He'd missed nearly all of it, but Y/n had been there. She'd always been there for his family .

"Oh, sorry," the man said, and Harry noticed his fidgeting hands and nervous looks toward the entrance of the delivery room. "My girlfriend wanted me to wait out here. She claimed I shouldn't have to see her in such a compromised position. I disagreed, but she insisted."

Harry smiled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "It's..." He didn't even know how to describe it, but he wouldn't have exchanged sharing that experience with Soph for the world. Eventually, he said, "Good on you for respecting her wishes."

"Thanks. I mean, we weren't exactly dating when she got pregnant and we haven't known each other all that long, so it makes sense, but I love her, you know? I want to be there for her."

"I know the feeling."

For a moment, Harry thought of his wife. When she got sick, Harry had been there for her for every doctor's visit, every scan, every appointment, every symptom. He never let Soph feel like she was facing her illness alone. Because he loved her, and he promised to take care of her and be there for her when they got married.

Then, flashes of Y/n appeared in Harry's mind. He thought about how important she was to him, to Harper. She was there to pick up the pieces that Soph had left when she died. When no one else knew how to reach him, she did, and he never imagined there would be a way to repay her kindness. And now that there was, he couldn't just let her keep fading the way he had been two years ago. The situations weren't the same, but it was dire enough to keep him up most nights as he waited for the call to take her away from her awful excuse of a boyfriend.

Before the man could say anything else, a nurse appeared in front of him with a large smile on her face. Harry was left to stew in his anxiety-riddled mind once again. He tried not to look at his phone too much, but he still checked every few minutes, even though his ringer was on high and he wouldn't have missed a single text. He wanted to call until she picked up, but he also worried that her boyfriend would see and get suspicious or delete his number, so he settled on waiting for Y/n to do the right thing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Miranda appeared at his side. She nodded at Harry to follow her, and he hastily stood up while they left L&D behind.

"You know, we deal with psycho ex boyfriends, husbands, what have you, all the time who try to force their way into the Delivery Room," she said as she walked, shaking her head sadly. "And she—she doesn't take shit from any of them, doesn't even flinch, and yet—"

Miranda's voice hitched as it trailed off, but Harry knew what she meant. Y/n was strong, didn't take shit from anyone. When he was lost in the darkest moments of his life, she was there to give him the tough love he needed to survive. She pushed him around, held him up in the shower, practically forced him to get better. And still—

"I don't know what to do."

Y/n had seemed to know exactly what Harry needed without him having to tell her, without him even knowing what he needed. What kind of friend was he if he couldn't do the same?

Miranda gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. "You just have to be there for her when she realizes who he is."

"I can't wait that long! He's a monster—"

"You have to, or you'll just push her further away from you," Miranda said. "I know it's hard, believe me, we've fought about it at work, but she's not listening to reason right now. Saying the wrong thing will isolate her even more."

"I would never abandon her," Harry insisted.

"I know, and deep down she knows that too," Miranda said gently. "But if you push her the wrong way, she might think she's burned a bridge with you and not reach out when she's ready."

Harry understood what Miranda was getting at, he really did. He was currently walking on a tightrope, and one wrong move, one wrong comment could send him careening to the ground and Y/n would be left standing alone. He just wished he knew what to say to make her see what he did.

Harry shook his head. "I can't wait for him to do something to seriously hurt her. I would never forgive myself if—"

Harry didn't even want to finish that sentence, but luckily he was saved by his phone's ringer. Relief filled his gut for a moment, then dissipated when he saw it was an unknown number. Still, taking a chance, he answered.

"Hi, is this Harry Styles?"

Not a question he received often, but the person on the other line sounded official, so he said, "Yes, this is he."

"This is Lisa from the ER at Dayton Health Medical Center. We have you listed here as Y/n L/n's emergency contact."

"Yes, that's me. Is everything okay? Is Y/n hurt? What happened—"

"Everything is just fine, Mr. Styles. Y/n just took a tumble down some stairs and is in need of a lift home. Are you able to come get her, or is there someone else I can call?"

"No!" Harry said, perhaps a little too intensely. Quieting his voice, he said, "No, I can—I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Great. Be sure to bring your parking ticket. We validate at the front desk."

Harry all but scrambled to his car, sending a hasty text to his mum asking her to pick Harper from school. He told the woman on the phone that he would be there in twenty minutes, but damn it if he didn't make it in fifteen.

*.*

"Your wife is just behind this curtain, Mr. Styles."

Harry didn't even have time to correct the nurse, to register the ache in his chest at the word "wife." All he cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. He did, however, take a moment to steady his breathing before pushing back the curtain, praying for calm thoughts as he set his eyes on his friend.

Truth be told, Harry didn't know where to look first.

On the phone, he was told Y/n had fallen down the stairs and that she was fine, but she definitely didn't look it. Her cheek was bruised a greenish-yellow, and bled across the bridge of her nose. A cut marred her bottom lip, making one side look puffy and beyond painful. Her right arm was in a sling too, and each injury that Harry spotted filled him with more and more anger.

"What are you doing here?"

Y/n's voice was slightly distorted by her swollen lip, but he could tell she wasn't exactly happy to see him.

"I'm your emergency contact," Harry said simply, trying not to linger on any of her injuries for too long. He figured Y/n went to a different hospital to avoid being seen by anyone she knew, but she obviously forgot about him being her emergency contact. "What are you doing here?"

"I fell."

He'd hoped Y/n would give up the charade, but he wasn't surprised that she hadn't, either. "I heard. How did that happen?"

That question seemed to splinter the damn surrounding Y/n's heart. With a shaking hand, she covered her face and began to cry.

Harry was surprised by the tears, expecting his friend to deflect and lie the way she had been the last couple months. But with the first tremble of her shoulders, he was there, sliding into the cot beside her. He was gentle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her to his chest. He didn't like how frail Y/n felt, or how she flinched at first before settling against him.

"I don't know how this happened," she sobbed. "I never—I love him, and he—How can I love someone who did this to me?"

Not having the answer, Harry just continued to hold her, letting her get out everything she needed to. She didn't say much after that, and while he was desperate to know how she'd sustained so many injuries, he stayed quiet.

He expected to feel angry at Y/n's boyfriend, or perhaps angrier. But all he felt as she cried in his arms was despair, and perhaps a small seed of relief that she finally seemed to understand the danger she was in. And maybe guilt too, that he couldn't protect her the way she needed him to.

Harry kept it all to himself, rubbing his thumb across her shoulder and squeezing her gently. "You're gonna be okay."

"I don't know what I'm gonna do."

It was all he could think of to say. He didn't know how to answer her question, and he knew she wouldn't be okay for a while, but she would be. Harry would make sure of it.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said quietly. "You've been trying to get me to see the truth for weeks, for months, and I didn't listen. I didn't—"

"Hey, none of that."

Harry continued to hold Y/n and stroked her hair gently until her breathing evened out and she was fast asleep. Relief washed over him like a bucket of ice water down his back. He could physically feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. Now that Y/n was asleep, Harry allowed himself to really feel everything he put a lid on since the curtains were pulled back on her section of the Emergency Room. He was scared, anxious, mad, but mostly just relieved she was safe. His heart was hammering in his chest, but the familiar smell of her shampoo eased his mind, and the way she curled into his side while she slept helped him feel like he was keeping her safe.

"I'm so happy you're safe," he whispered into the crowd of Y/n's head. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

*.*

A few weeks later, and Y/n and Harry were lounging on the couch together after dinner. Harper was asleep in her room after Y/n read her a bedtime story. His daughter had been ecstatic when Harry told her Y/n would be staying with them for a while, and even though she was recovering from her injuries, she still played dress up and tea time and built forts and made cookies and basically anything Harper wanted to do. Y/n was quieter and more subdued than usual, but her smile continued to grow as each day went by. It was just a little, just not by bit, but it was progress.

Now they were both lounging after dinner—one that Y/n insisted she make for Harry and Harper. They were talking about the album he was slowly but steadily working on. Well, Harry was talking, Y/n was listening quietly with one hand holding the stem of her wine glass.

When a lull in the conversation settled them in comfortable silence, Harry found himself looking at Y/n. He hated seeing her beautiful face so marred, and not just physically. The usual playful glint in her eye was gone, and she didn't smile as much anymore, and when she did, it didn't reach her eyes. He missed seeing her smile, seeing the light fill her eyes when she laughed at one of his lame jokes.

But in the last few days, Y/n's bruises started to heal, she was getting her sling off at the end of the week, and she didn't flinch when he helped her change her bandages or at casual touches from him. Things weren't totally back to normal, seeing as she still didn't feel comfortable staying alone at her place, but Harry was confident that they would be.

Harry blinked, his face flushing when he realized he'd been caught staring. Shaking his head, he looked at Y/n funny. "You'll stay with me obviously. I'll send someone to get you some extra clothes and stuff and you can stay with me and Harper while we work on getting your locks changed. Or longer. Whatever you need."

He sounded so matter of fact, so sure. It made Y/n want to cry. "I meant, like, far into the future," she said, running a tired hand through her hair. "I've always been able to trust my judgement, but now? I'll never look at a guy the same again."

"Rude," Harry joked. A desperate attempt to lighten the mood, but you appreciated it.

"You don't count. You're..."

"I'm...What?"

Hers. Y/n couldn't bring herself to say it, though, even if it was true. Sophia was Harry's great love, the mother of his child. Y/n would never even consider him as someone to date, which was a shame because he was quite possibly the perfect man in every other respect.

"My friend. I think you've held my hair back one too many times as I puked my guts up."

Harry nodded and laughed, but he didn't say anything after that. He looked contemplative, as if a million thoughts were swirling around in his head. Y/n was curious to know what he was thinking so hard about, but wasn't at the same time. Maybe some of their thoughts were best left unsaid.

"Well, I have an early shift tomorrow. I should probably get to bed," Y/n said eventually, standing up from her spot on Harry's sofa.

Harry nodded and mumbled something about having to take Harper to school early too, and she couldn't help but feel like there was this tension between them. Maybe not tension, but something. Something was off-kilter between them, and she couldn't put her finger on it.

As she went up the stairs to the guest bedroom, the same one she stayed in for as long as she'd been Harry's friend, he called her name. She turned to find him at the base of the stairs looking up at her with a fond little smile on his face.

"I meant what I said earlier. Stay as long as you need to. You'll always have a home here."

The words filled Y/n with warmth, making her feel safer and more settled than she had in months. In that moment, there was so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't even begin to vocalize, but even with the distance between them, she could read the look in Harry's eyes and knew she didn't have to say a thing.

[gurugirl]

ex-boyfriend's dad!harry part 4 sneaky

You asked for a sneak peek for part 4 so here it is!! 1.2k words. Enjoy babes!

Full series to be posted on Tumblr soon!! Right now I have 3 parts up on Patreon if you don't want to wait to read until it's posted here. xoxo

. . .

So if you needed space to think about what had happened, Harry would give it to you. But what he wouldn’t do was pretend nothing had ever happened between you. That would be too easy. To have a fun little thing with a beautiful younger woman and then suddenly back up and cool off and then – poof – strangers.

He could just let you ghost him. He could move on and chalk up the time you spent together as just a little fun fling. No one would ever need to know. That would certainly be tidier. And he’d be able to maintain the relationship with his son as it was before you’d come along. It could just be a fun little secret that he looked back on fondly as he moved on with his life.

He could do that. But he wasn’t going to do that.

Why? Because somewhere along the way he accidentally started to let his big, heavy emotions come alive with you. It was an accident. But he couldn’t help it. Harry’d always been a lover. Someone who enjoyed sex, sure… but he was also someone who enjoyed the relationship that went with sex just as much.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t had easy flings before; One-night stands and no strings attached relationships. But that wasn’t always possible with him. It wasn’t possible to feel nothing with you. It was quite the opposite.

He started imagining your smile and the way you made him laugh while he was doing mundane things like laundry or typing up an email at work. He began to imagine you waking up in his bed every morning with your croaky little voice and sleep lines on your face smelling like warm sheets and that unique scent that was just… you. He would be in the middle of watching something on television and feel the need to text you so you could turn it on and watch it too because he knew you’d love it.

So yeah. He started to really like you. As more than he should. It stung him a little to know you needed space to figure out whatever it was that went wrong. But he wasn’t going to stay away forever. He’d let you process but he had things he needed you to know and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t at least tell you what those things were. You’d probably reject it all. You’d probably tell him that wasn’t what this was at all. You’d probably end it right then and there and that would be okay. If you didn’t feel the way he did that would be fair enough, Harry figured. But he wasn’t going to let things fade away and fizzle out. He was going to make you hear him out and if you didn’t like it then he’d step back and respect your wishes.

“Think I’m gonna call Y/n,” Tyler spoke as he walked into the kitchen behind Harry.

He turned to look at his son with confusion, “Why?”

He shrugged, “I feel like breaking up was a mistake. She probably regrets it too. I’ve been thinking a lot and I feel like I kind of just threw away everything because I was too scared to try stuff with her. I don’t know if I’ll ever find someone like her again. I was talking to Jay about it and he told me I was an idiot for letting her go like that. He said that a lot of girls don’t even really enjoy sex that much and if I had to pick between someone that’s into all kinds of weird things and someone that’s not into anything…” Tyler sat down at the kitchen table as he looked at Harry, “… that I might be better off with someone like Y/n. Because she loved sex. That’s for sure.”

Harry sighed and shook his head as he looked out the window over his sink. His son was still so stuck on the wrong reasons for your breakup. You didn’t just break up with him because you were sexually incompatible. You broke up with him because he was kind of a dick to you. Jealous all the time, manipulative. But of course, Tyler didn’t know his dad knew some of those details. You had told those things to Harry.

“She was a great girl, Ty. Do you think that’ll be enough for her to see you again?” Harry swallowed. He hated this. Hated that his son still had feelings for you. Hated that he missed you so bad and it’d only been two days. Hated that you hadn’t called or texted.

“I hope so. I miss her, ya know? Tried seeing this one girl a couple of weeks ago but there was just no comparison. Kept thinking of the way Y/n did certain things a lot better. I still love her too. I have to at least give it a shot.”

“You seemed so upset by her when she broke up with you. Kind of surprised by this a little.”

He really didn’t want Tyler calling you and mucking things up. It was selfish of Harry to think the way he was but if Tyler was still in love with you and tried reaching out that could be it for Harry. That would just complicate things further. But what could he do really? 

“I was mad at first but I think the time apart helped me a little. And maybe her too. Maybe she’s missed me just as much, ya know? And she’ll want to compromise a little? Like we were together for 2 years. Almost two years. It would have been two years tomorrow actually so I was thinking about just giving it a shot. I’ll see if she wants to meet up tomorrow or something.” Tyler looked at Harry, “Should I get her flowers? Maybe make some grand gesture to show her how I feel about her? Jewelry even?”

Harry sat down at the table, his brows stitched together as he swallowed down the lump he felt in his throat., “Don’t buy her jewelry. What if she’s not interested in anything anymore? Don’t make any rash decisions, Ty. Okay? Just…” he sighed as he was about to give his son actual advice, against his better judgment, “Take it slow with her. Call her and see if she wants to meet up first. Flowers could be nice if she does. But don’t expect anything. Don’t push her.”

“Okay. So flowers might be good. Yeah. Okay,” he stood up from the table and pulled his phone out, “Would a text work? Or should I call? I should call shouldn’t I?”

Harry watched his son pace in the kitchen with his phone in his hand. Tyler was looking for advice from the wrong person but Harry wasn’t going to tell him that.

He couldn’t stop Tyler from reaching out to you and he couldn’t stop you from agreeing to meet up with him if that’s what you chose. But that didn’t mean Harry wouldn’t do something rash. Something he might regret in the long run. But sometimes those heavy and deep feelings you get for someone can make you do crazy things.

[charmercharm3r]

From the Beginning

LMH

Masterlist

wc: 6k

Requested

Synopsis: The timing was just never right. But why not take a leap of faith straight into your best friends arms? Or maybe, his bed?

Warnings: smut, sexual explicit content, besties to lovers, emotional infidelity, slightly angsty, oral (f receiving), just soft comfort minho

-

 Another boring day, dragged on by unopened emails, overdue assignments, and the underwhelming relationship you’d forced yourself into. Coming home to him was the worst part of your evening, every evening. So much so that you made up excuses to stay out and avoid what felt like filler small talk with your own boyfriend. Dull and draining.

Your best friend did everything to encourage you to try and make your relationship work. He suggested date ideas, ways to spice things up, even invited you and your boyfriend out on a double date with him and his girlfriend. Minho was always the generous type. It annoyed the fuck out of you because he was always so sweet, so kind to you and always knew what you needed to hear. Perks of practically knowing each other since you left the womb.

But with the long time friendship, that made him unavailable to you, a line that should never be crossed because there’d be no going back. His companionship was just something you refused to give up, even if that meant having to watch him love someone else.

It was never in your blood to be jealous of his girlfriend. She was gorgeous, funny, absolutely deserving of Minho and all his hard-to-match personality. They were perfect together. With that fact, you hated yourself more than you could ever possibly envy her, only because you never took the chance when you had it.

Minho was single for so long, he denied girl after girl that threw themselves at him and you never knew why. At least, not until three months after you got with your current boyfriend. After you finally agreed to introduce him to Minho, the sparkle in his eye when he saw the two of you hand in hand died along with the hope of ever making you his.

It was bound to happen, you knew that. Minho wouldn’t wait for you forever, and you couldn’t wait for him to admit the feelings you knew he had for you. The timing was just always wrong. Neither of you could blame each other, but if anyone else knew how hard it was to confess your undying love, Minho took the gold, and you silver. 

So here you were, coming home at half past ten after convincing Minho to stay with you at the library for a midterm that was still a month away. Judging by the lights being off in the living room and the bedroom door partially closed, your boyfriend was already in bed. You only hoped he was already asleep so you didn’t have to deal with another rapid fire round of questions.

Taking off your shoes and throwing your bag onto the couch, you made your way to the mini kitchenette for some water. The dinging of your phone made you jump in the quiet, echoing apartment. It was Minho on the other end.

Min: get home okay?

The text made you smile, much bigger than it should’ve been. Leaning against the counter, you read the message over and over.

“Y/N?” The sleep-ridden voice of your boyfriend called from the bedroom.

Without looking up from your phone, you rolled your eyes and replied back, “yeah, it’s me. I’ll be in in a second.” Your voice was unenthused. There was no response to your half hearted words.

Despite the lack of excitement in your tone, the smile never left your face as your fingers trembled to text back your best friend.

Y: yeah. thanks for staying with me :) I owe you, your heart leapt out of your chest upon hitting send. Before you even got a chance to open the fridge, your phone went off again.

Min: buy me lunch tomorrow?

You could never say no to Minho.

Y: anything for his highness

Min: keep calling me that and maybe i’ll help you out more often

His words shouldn’t have so much weight on your heart, but they did. After a few more exchanged texts, deciding on a place and time, you said your goodnight’s and put the phone away.

You took your time in the bathroom, moving as quietly as possible so as not to wake your sleeping boyfriend. Crawling in next to him at almost midnight, the bed felt cold. It felt empty when there was a whole body right next to you. Then again, that’s all he was. A body. A body you occasionally spoke to, occasionally kissed, occasionally fucked when the both of you needed it. After all, you were still human. Even then, there was always someone else on your mind while your boyfriend searched for the clit that was right in front of his face.

Yeah. Just a body, you both were.

Minho had walked you halfway to your boyfriend’s place when he decided to head back to his own. He couldn’t help you to the front door when he knew how badly you didn’t want to go in. All the late night studying, asking him to go to the most random of places at the most absurd times, Minho knew the reasoning for it. But he was a great friend, going along with all of your antics when there was someone he genuinely cared about waiting for him to come home.

When the librarian kicked you both out for the third time that week, Minho couldn’t walk you all the way to his apartment, no matter how badly he wanted to just drag you back to his own. He was happy, whenever he opened his front door and saw her waiting for him on the couch, passed out because she just couldn’t stay up, it made a smile fall across his face. He shouldn’t feel such a disdain towards your boyfriend for not loving you properly, his focus should be on his own relationship that he could tell his girlfriend was fighting tooth and nail to keep afloat. But there was always that voice in his head and in his heart that screamed at him to follow in your shadow, make sure the sun shined just for you. He shouldn’t feel that way when the girl in his bed wanted nothing more than to love him.

Yeah. She was in his bed, but you were on his mind.

The next afternoon came excruciatingly slow for you, having no morning class and having to be there when your boyfriend woke up. Usually, you’d be gone before he could stir. Unfortunately, not today. It wasn’t like he tried to make it work anymore, he stopped after realizing the same thing you did. But you still cared for him as a person, as a friend, afraid of being alone when he finally broke up with you. He’d long forgotten about the relationship before you did. You tried for months to make it work, catering to his every beck and call to make him see you were worthy of his attention, all for nothing. At least he had the decency to let you stay with him until you worked up enough money to move out and break up with him yourself.

Meeting up with Minho was always the highlight of your day, even if you spent big coin on his very expensive taste in food.

“Did he ask about where you were?” Minho asked as he took your plate and began cutting your chunk of meat into smaller bits. An involuntary twitch in your lips made them curl with endearment.

“No. He was asleep by the time I got back.” He could hear the sadness in your voice, it hurt his heart to know there was no one waiting up for you.

That one sentence made Minho think back to his own girlfriend, who always waited for him even if she couldn’t stay awake. Guilt was all he felt, but also anger. “Are you kidding? Did he leave the light on, at least?” The small shake of your head, no, made his chest bubble in annoyance.

When finished with making your food easier to consume, he placed the plate back in front of you and worked on his own. He went silent after that, unaware of the force he was putting behind the knife and scraping the bottom of the plate. 

“What did that steak ever do to you?” You joked, a breathy chuckle leaving your lips in an attempt to distract yourself.

“It’s not what it did to. It’s what it didn’t.” There was a clear double meaning behind his words, but unacknowledged it went. Same old, same old.

You chose to ignore it. He chose to ignore it. A mutual feeling lingered in the air between you and Minho as you finished your meal. As much as you wanted to address the clear tension behind his handle on the water glass he brought gracefully to his lips, what good would it do? There was no point in admitting how much you envied his girlfriend, how you wished it was you he kissed with the lips that glistened as he set the glass down and stuck his tongue out to swipe away the remaining liquid. No point in telling him you hated yourself for not telling him how unconditionally in love you were with him when he already has someone to love just as much. A delicate line not to be crossed.

Minho suggested taking a walk, grabbing coffee so neither of you had to go back home. What he really wanted was to invite you back to his without worrying about his partner thinking there was something more besides friendship. He had to at least break it off first before he let you back into his home, his heart where you claimed permanent residency.

He bought you coffee, you bought him dessert. The walk itself was peaceful, probably would’ve been more if he hadn’t been plotting and planning every word he was going to say to his girlfriend when he finally had the courage to walk you to his doorstep.

Your words solidified his decision, he was going to end his relationship, even if you didn’t end yours. It didn’t feel right to him to be helplessly in love with another girl when there was one that slept on the couch until he came home.

Deep in his thoughts, Minho didn’t realize they slipped from his mind and out of his mouth. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

It wasn’t more than a whisper, but you were shoulder to shoulder, close enough to have heard his breathing if you really tried. Which is why he only noticed what he’d said when yours stopped momentarily.

Eyes wide, shocked, you looked up at him with a grip of steel on your coffee cup. “What?”

For a second, Minho debated on lying, telling you it wasn’t about what you thought it was. But he made the mistake of meeting your gaze and your eyes gave away what your lips would never dare to speak. They were full of hope, longing, and another emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Or rather, refused to touch all together.

Stopping in his tracks, Minho stood up taller, straightened his shoulders and said with much more confidence, “he doesn’t deserve you.”

He’d told you that countless times already, you’d replayed those words in his voice on repeat like a broken record. A different tinge stung your heart like venom as he spoke them now, clouding your head in a haze that only made you see him. Everything faded away and Minho and his cat-like eyes, glossy lips, and stature that towered over you was the only thing that made you grow the courage to nod your head in agreement.

Tears started to well in your eyes at your own admittance, a step that you never could take without him. “I do deserve better.”

Minho followed your rapid nodding with his own, though much calmer. He was always the calm in your storm. Amidst your epiphany– crisis(?)– Minho reached for your hand and gently pulled you closer. Tossing his and your coffee cups, he reached a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, slowly letting his fingers trail down to cup your cheek. Though, it was as if he was holding back from letting himself indulge in the feeling of your skin. He’d known you for your entire lives and has felt you in the friendliest of ways– side hugs, catching you when you fell, pushing you and being the reason you fell– however now, he wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of you.

There was no more hesitation in his voice, conscience clear as the afternoon sky as he stopped himself from moving on you any further. “You deserve me.” A chill ran up your spine as he spoke the words you’d so desperately prayed to hear for months. You tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall from your waterline, but miserably failed as a broken smile crept upon your lips. With an equally confused and ecstatic grin to match, Minho wipes the stray tear from your cheek, “why are you crying?”

All your emotions felt like a tidal wave hitting you at once, both brokenness and the dizzying whirlwind of being pieced back together presented in the form of Minho standing before you, pulling his jacket sleeves down to continue to wipe your flooding tears. “I’m hoping you’re saying what I’ve been dreaming about you saying for forever.”

“I am. I am, gorgeous,” he didn’t give you time to respond before pulling your head into his chest and allowing the fabric over his heart to soak up your remaining waterworks. Fingers carding through your hair and cheek resting on the top of your head, the two of you held onto each other for dear life.

Eventually, the tears stopped but you didn’t let go, he wouldn’t let you go when he finally had you in his arms. However, the same guilt that stopped him time after time from walking you to that god forsaken cave of an apartment your boyfriend allowed you to sleep in, it made him struggle to force you back just so he can make sure you were really standing before him and telling him everything he wanted to hear. “There’s something I– we need to do first.”

You nodded embarrassingly fast, sniffling and took his hand, holding it tightly. A second of doubt washed through you. Was he just saying this because you were sad, because he knew how miserable you were? Minho was selfless enough to do that, to him, your happiness always came first. Was this another act of friendship?

“A– are you sure? That you want this?”

“I’ve been sure for our entire lives,” he squeezed your hand in reassurance, not wanting to let go.

It didn’t take you another second to agree, letting him lead you back to your boyfriend’s apartment for the last time. Those dreaded steps, that cold building exterior Minho hated so much. The only warmth he could see anywhere in the vicinity was you, glowing and terrified. With a kiss to your forehead, he encouraged you. “You can do this. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

There was no argument with your boyfriend, as though he already knew you were leaving him for good. Not so much as a, “why,” left his mouth as you packed what you could into a suitcase and briefly mentioned you’d send someone for the rest of your stuff. All he did was watch you flitter around the apartment and make whatever was left of you, disappear.

Minho informed you that he’d booked a hotel for the night while he allowed his soon-to-be ex girlfriend gather her things to move out, taking you there first. He told you he’d be back in an hour, two hours max to which he kept his word. He wasn’t a second later once the clock struck eight, stepping into the hotel room with an exasperated smile.

“Was she okay?” You asked, voice small and unsure.

His shoes were off in a second, padding over to the bed and flopping onto his side next to you. “As okay as anyone would be getting broken up with and evicted in the same night.” You showcased a sad smile, mostly because you understood her position. Without Minho, you’d be homeless, too.

Noticing, he brought his hand up to caress your cheek again, only now he could do it fully, let himself enjoy you and your warm skin. You let him, let yourself find comfort in the palm of his hand. The proximity was new, being so close in a brand new way, so foreign but something he’s wanted for so long. Now that he had you, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Minho could feel you all around him, engulfing his senses and driving him to the brink of insanity.

You didn’t realize you were leaning in closer to him, now able to feel his breath on your lips. Words couldn’t form in your head even if you tried as your eyes traversed all his facial features, everything you neglected to see just so you wouldn’t fall even more in love with him than you already were.

“It should’ve been me from the very beginning,” Minho mumbled, but you heard him crystal clear.

Bringing your hand to cup over his, you guided him down your neck and back towards the nape. Minho has always been a quick learner, pulling you impossibly closer until your lips just barely brushed. “It’s always been you. I wish I knew that sooner.”

Neither of you needed another word before he crashed into you, another wave hitting except that wave was Minho and all his love poured into a single kiss. He poured all the harbored feelings he kept at bay for years into the kiss while you struggled to regain the breath he always stole from your lungs. Though, he had no intention of giving it back. Not tonight, at least.

His lips were moving in calculated motions, smooth and unrushed because he’d daydreamed about this very moment for hours on end. Then he laid you further back into the bed so he towered over you, both hands now running up and down and all over the upper half of your body. You felt as if your lips weren’t on his that you’d fade away, you needed him. He just so happened to need you even more.

Your legs instinctively came up to wrap around his waist, tugging his entire body in closer with desire. Breathless and overly eager, Minho left as many kisses to the rest of your face the same as you had stained his jacket earlier with your tears, too many for either of you to count. Except now he was attaching himself to your neck, plump lips leaving burning marks in their wake as he made sure to cover the entire area. Every nip and suck he left to your skin made your stomach churn with lust, coiling tighter when the tip of his tongue trailed ever so lightly further down to your chest.

To get him moving quicker than a snail’s pace, you took his hands and placed them just underneath the hem of your shirt. Minho’s ears flushed red instantly and he prayed to god you would keep your eyes closed. Thankfully, the continuous pampering with his kisses was more than enough to distract you.

Your shirt was off in a matter of moments, followed by your pants while Minho remained fully clothed. In his head, he was too excited and needed to calm down. To you, you couldn’t get enough, he wasn’t giving you enough.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” the words barely managed to escape you as his hands wrapped around your back to unclasp your bra.

Minho stripped his shirt in a haste to make you feel a little less exposed. “Let me savor you,” he whispered and reattached his body to yours, equally out of breath. There was no stopping Minho and his mouth once he got you almost completely naked.

Trailing more pecks down the valley of your breasts, he found his lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking and biting light as a feather but enough to get you to arch deeper into him while giving the same attention to the other with his hand. When he’d had his fun there, Minho couldn’t keep his lips from your skin, tongue still leaving wet streaks down your stomach until he came to the hemline of your panties.

By the time he was face to face with your core, your hips were bucking in the air, pleading for friction, desperate and failing. Hands found their way under your thighs and gently pushed them towards your chest, Minho inhaling deeply as his nose barely brushed the growing wet spot on your panties. “Fucking god,” mewling as the tip of his tongue pressed into your clothed, soiled center. The heat from the wet muscle radiated through the fabric and you squirmed under his touch. Back arching into the mattress, Minho kept you pinned to the bed by your thighs, your own hands covering your chest and grasping at the sheets. Little did you know, he was grinding down into the bed as well, losing his mind at just the smell of your arousal and ruining his own underwear.

“Please,” the broken whisper of your voice sucker punched the wind from Minho’s lungs, how needy you sounded, all for him. It took everything in him not to rip the undergarment off your body, but instead clumsily slipping it below your knees before placing himself between your legs again and draping them over his shoulders. The unstretching seams of the underwear kept your thighs tight around his head, suffocating him with your body heat in all the best ways.

How intensely he eyed your pulsing cunt, you felt like you wanted to melt into the sheets just to get away from it. Clenching around nothing, waiting for any sort of relief all while hiding the redness on your cheeks from both embarrassment and arousal behind your hands, you subconsciously tucked your thighs tighter around Minho.

“Pretty thing,” a hand slithered up to reveal your shyness, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t hide from me, now.” Bringing your hand down, Minho kissed your knuckles. No matter how sweet the gesture, it didn’t take away from how intimate he was now seated before you, pussy on full display for his judgement. You giggled from both anxiety and butterflies. 

“Will you let me make you feel good?”

The bar was so, incredibly low— you swooning over the fact that even though he was between your legs with nothing stopping him, he still asked for consent.

Pathetically fast did you nod, giving Minho the green light to dive into you. Oh boy, did he speed through the intersection, immediately wrapping his lips fully around your clit and sucking, tongue lightly toying with it as you arched into the bed at the sensation. Plump lips moist with slick glistened pink, only obscene slurping and wet noises filling the room besides your borderline pornographic moans. He’d hardly even circled your entrance with his tongue before you were reaching into his hair with your free hand, squeezing the other tightly. If he didn’t rub soothing circles to the top of your knuckles, you could swear you were floating. 

With every nip and lick, more shocks of what could’ve been electricity shot through your spine and made you grind harder into him. But oh how Minho felt like he was on cloud nine, trapped and unable to move from the vice grip your thighs had around his head— not that he’d ever want to detach himself from you now that he’s had a taste.

You were growing more and more desperate to come, to feel him, practically wanting to mold his body into your own because it didn’t feel like he could be close enough. Minho let you use him, steadying himself by holding your hand tighter as your hips bucked and rutted against his face. Occasionally, his nose could bump your clit and make you mewl even louder as his tongue dipped and swirled into your hole. He could feel the crescent marks you were leaving into his hand, but the small bit of pain was nothing in comparison to how your calling of his name made him feel.

And when you pulled your tangled hands to your chest and forced him to grab your breast, Minho almost came in his pants at your lewd noises. His lips suctioned against your clit again and you were sent soaring over the edge and into your high, thighs clamping around Minho’s head and keeping his nose to your pelvis as he continued to gently suckle you through your orgasm. How softly he treated you as you rode through it, like glass that needed to be handled with care. If he passed away now, he could die a happy man knowing it was by suffocation between your thighs.

It took a few silent moments for you to catch your breath, releasing him from between your legs. Kissing his way up your torso, featherlight and fragile, Minho discarded the panties somehow still— laughably— dangling from your ankle and tossed it with his clothes to keep for later.

Coming up again, Minho cupped your cheeks and peppered your face with kisses, eyes heavy and body tiredly succumbing to his pampering. But the more he left burning trails of his lips, the more you wanted him again, closer. Goosebumps rose along his skin when you pulled him face to face by the nape of his neck, eyes locked on his bruised and kiss-bitten lips. The slight shine of the moonlight through the hotel window made him look all the more sultry, large brown eyes turned borderline black with lust. 

Even through your exhausted state, you managed to find the energy to kiss him again, slow and steady but growing heavier by the second.

He tried not to show how needy he was, how desperate for your touch and warmth as Minho kept an iron grip on your hips. Holding back, he fought the urge to grind his still-clothed dick into you. Though, further plans sounded much more appealing. The desire grew with every panting kiss, every bruising squeeze of his hands on you.

Wrapping your legs around his torso, you pressed into his crotch with your soiled cunt, spreading the lingering arousal across his tight jeans. A deep, guttural groan rumbled against your lips from Minho, only egging you on. It was like the single roll of your hips knocked the wind from his chest and made Minho almost pliable, falling easily onto his back when you nudged him to straddle.

Sitting atop him, Minho let out a heavy sigh as his eyes raked over your body, mesmerized. He ran his hands from your torso to your thighs with the lightest touch, scared that you would break if he was too rough.

“No idea how long I’ve waited for you.” His eyes looked anywhere but at your own, words spoken in almost a trance-like state.

“All yours,” you whispered back, leaning over to kiss him while blindly fumbling with the button of his jeans. The kiss was messier now that you were multitasking, but also somehow hotter. He was still in control even though you were on top. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, you could taste yourself, pressing into one another even deeper when you moaned.

The second you were able to free him from his confines, Minho sighed in relief. Even with the minor teeth clashes, the awkward movements of trying to get his pants off and the rustling of the foil condom wrapper, none of those tensions lingered for long. In fact, it made his heart feel heavier, endearing because it reminded him this moment wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t perfect, but human and you. 

Feeling your body weight on him, Minho had half the mind to flip you both back over after putting on the rubber. But it was just so hot to watch you praise him with your eyes, unable to look anywhere except between his heavily breathing chest and plump lips. Finger nails raked down the plane of his abs as you took in a deep breath, lowering your still sopping core onto his.

Another sigh of relief left your lips, however a restrained groan threatened to leave his. He was still holding back, not wanting to take away your moment. Soaked with slick, his cock was hot against your cunt and only urged you to move. Leaving crescent marks into his skin, you bit your lip back and lazily began grinding against him, taunting, teasing. Minho’s own grip on your legs grew tighter the longer and harder you rubbed your clit into his cock. 

A particularly loud groan and the tossing of his head back into the pillows made you come to a full stop, forcing yourself to heave off him and press a deep kiss to his lips. All the while, you swiftly took his cock in hand and stood it up, rubbing just the tip across your entrance and bundle of nerves. You swallowed every single one of his whines as you played with yourself just a bit longer. The feeling of his teeth pulling at your bottom lip was enough to get you to give in.

Finally, after what felt like years of teasing and edging each other’s feelings, you slowly sank down on his cock, taking your time and truly feeling every ridge and vein. His vice grip on your thighs came up, clawing at your skin as he wrapped his arms around your torso. Minho sat up, forehead falling in the valley of your breasts as he attempted to control his breathing. You, trying to be as calm as he was, pulled him closer by draping your arms over his shoulders and carding your fingers through his hair. He bit lightly into your chest and breast, muffling any other pleasured sounds he made as you sat fully with him sheathed inside. 

Content was all you felt. Content and full. He’d been in you all but thirty seconds and it was more intimate than any time you’d had sex with your ex boyfriend. The way his breathing was ragged and his stomach tensed, to how he rubbed his forehead against your skin because his entire body was buzzing, it was how you’d only every dreamed of sex feeling. With Minho, it became reality. 

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, so hard and strong that you could hardly find it in you to begin moving. Every muscle in your body tensed at the pleasure of your clit against his warm skin and thick cock snuggled inside you. The thought of not moving at all and just staying like this had definitely crossed your mind. But fuck, every convulsion of your cunt had Minho crushing your body against his, bucking up occasionally and making you cry out as well.

“Have mercy,” Minho mumbled into your skin.

A small giggle left your lips, experimentally rolling your hips at his wish. The whimper that sounded from him gave you a boost of confidence to do it again, and again, and again. The speed at which you rode him increased with every moan, every nibble of his teeth, every scratch to your lower back and ass that he left. But it was getting harder to maintain the rhythm, your legs beginning to burn as you continued to please one another. 

He looked up to meet your eyes, “need help, beautiful?”

A small whimper left your lips as an answer, Minho immediately taking hold of your legs and flipping you onto your back again. He did it so easily, feeling small underneath his frame that now crowded over you. His cock was still fit inside, being squeezed every few seconds by your throbbing pussy. It was the way he looked down at you, like he wanted to devour you whole, much different to how he looked when it was him below you. That same expression, confident but dark, made you almost cower back into the sheets. You felt embarrassed, for some reason, every move you made felt judged by him because of this new allure that radiated from his body.

The masochistic caregiver he is, he cracked a feigned smile, “oh, pretty girl. You’re glowing. Do I make you that nervous?” Your voice caught in your throat, put on the spot. All you could muster up was a short nod. But he wasn’t satisfied, leaning over you and cupping your cheek. “Use your words.”

“Y– yes.” The smirk on his face grew devious. His breath fanned your cheeks, adding to the heat that spread through your skin. Another involuntary clench of your cunt made Minho’s eyes flutter closed.

The burning in your gut was still aching, still wanting more. No matter how comfortable it was just to have him near, that unadulterated feeling began to override your senses. You tried to wrap your legs around his torso tighter, encouraging him to move. However Minho has always been stubborn, “tell me what you want.”

Bringing a hand up to thumb his cheek, his devilish expression faltered for just a moment to lean into your palm. “Fuck me the way I know you want to.”

Minho bared his teeth slightly in a loving smile, letting out a short chuckle before turning to kiss your palm. He took the hand on his face and forced you to wrap your arm around his neck again.

Craning into the crook of your shoulder, he pressed chaste kisses to your skin and pulled out slowly, only to shove himself in again. The filling and emptying sensation made your mind dizzy, unable to focus on anything except for Minho and his stifled grunts. His thrusts were short, but powerful, still not nearly enough to make either of you climax anytime soon. It seemed as though that was his intention, staying true to his word about wanting to savor you. Each gentle pull paired with each rough push past your entrance came with an unspoken thought– this one is for making me wait so long, a second one for being okay with kissing someone else, another for being so oblivious, for the time we’ve wasted, and for how hard I’m going to love you.

It was intense, raw, fiery in all the best ways. Your nails leaving red marks down his back erupted an almost animalistic moan from Minho, increasing his speed ever so slightly. His hand made its way towards your clit again. His urges were clearly getting the better of him, thrusts with purpose turning needy and desperate. Then his other hand came to lift your leg slightly, giving him enough access to rut into you. The figure eights he rubbed into your nerves were pushing you closer to your second high with every passing second, Minho biting onto your shoulder was just the icing on the cake.

“C– cum,” you whimpered, hoping he understood.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel.” With his permission, you allowed for your orgasm to take over your body, vision clouded white and body on blissful, sinful fire. Eyes shut and unaware of how tightly you’re holding onto him, Minho grumbled a few unintelligible words and stilled completely. He folded at the feeling of your walls hugging him, pulling him in deeper until he was able to reach his high as well. It was a long building wave that crashed over the both of you in a matter of moments, but the aftershocks lasted what felt like hours.

It was just the two of you, body parts tangled and unmoving as you both tried to catch your breaths. Minho allowed for his body to relax on top of you, his head against your chest just listening to your heartbeat. His eyes were closed as you lightly played with his hair, pressing the occasional kiss to the top of his head. This sort of aftercare was something you weren’t used to, your own personal blanket of comfort filling the room as Minho drowned himself in your scent. And it was the best, warmest sleep you’d had in years.

-

A/N: god this took me so long I'm so sorry to the person that requested!! but still very enjoyable to write :3

I really like doing requests so send me some if you liked this lil piece hehehe

-momo < 3

[lynlyndoll]

Anything for you

genre: angst for reader (but just a few things, it's not something that could actually trigger crying 100% while reading) and fluff

wc: almost 0.4k

pairing: boyfriend! lee know x fem! reader

appearances and specifications: only the two of you. this was a request from my 🍈 anon!! hope you like it!!

summary: Too much work can make you neglect your boyfriend and when you do, then he tries to help you, no matter what.

an: Hope you like this 🍈 anon!! I really enjoyed writing this and I think it will fit your request!

Sheets on the floor. Sheets on the desk. Your inbox full of new emails and your tired eyes being focused on the screen of your computer.

Lately, your life has been a mess. The company you worked for was currently fighting for dear life because of the lack of workers, while you, the people who still were hired, were working every day and night. Of course, you were trying to give your best, but after several sleepless nights, you couldn't take it. Your eyes start watering while you look at your 12 new emails from the agency.

The stress took over you and since it has, you have also been neglecting your boyfriend. And when you started barely replying to his texts and rarely calling him, Minho knew he had to come by and see what was wrong.

He ringed once, he ringed twice, but no sign from you, so he searched for his keys. You gave him a pair of keys soon after your 1 year anniversary, when you moved in a new apartment. He opens the door and hears little sobs in the living room. He steps inside and sees you in front of the computer, crying. He sits next to you, slowly rubbing circles on your back.

"Hey, love.." he greets you. You look up to him, relaxing a bit, trying to stop crying.

"Hey.." You say, trying to smile in his direction, vision too blurry to 100% identify him.

He looks around and sighs. "You're overworking yourself, Y/N... I know you got a lot to do, but..."

You look at him, already knowing what he was going to say. "But I need to rest as well, I know... But... It's so hard. I got loads to do and the work seems to multiply itself every minute." You say, sighing.

"I know, love... Look, how about... you take a break. I help you clean this place, I cook you dinner for us and we watch a movie together..." He says, kissing your forehead and hugging you from a side.

"Well, I guess a break for my boyfriend isn't the worst idea... That if I choose the movie." You say, smiling. He nods, chuckling.

"Of course, love. Anything for you." He smiles, getting up to help you out, as he always does.

taglist!!

@agi-ppangx @lisaaassophhhieee @hyunjin-lover20

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Whateverday: Boyfriend Number Three

Since I’ve shared snippets from Chris’s section and Richard’s section, it seemed only fair that I share a bit from the last section - Guy’s. I just started it for procrastination (of a sort) from my main NANO piece*.

Note, while I’m sharing the fluffy bits of this, there will be some serious relationship/personal interaction sort of stuff. It somehow turned into a therapy piece for me. I may not even allow comments when I post it to Ao3...we’ll see. There’s a fine line between “Misery loves company” and “I do not want to discuss this with the internet”.

(Don’t worry - there will be no breakups or heartache! Just headache!)

...in the meantime, have Guy being a doof.

*as always, secondary goal is to actually finish something - anything! - so this still counts.

Thomas wasn’t certain how he’d gone from being Lord Grantham’s butler to being his accountant, but the change in position did have it’s advantages. The spreadsheets were much the same. He could work off location, meaning that all of his work was done from the comfort of Guy’s estate. There was no worry about his employer looking over his shoulder and breathing down his neck, he could take breaks whenever he liked…

…and there was no one to see him rubbing his temples when Lord Grantham decided to send the necessary paperwork himself instead of letting his daughter or son-in-law doing it, resulting in Thomas having the wrong information. To think, the Granthams had generously sent him to the International Butler’s Academy for this.

He had just heaved a sigh and was getting ready to send a politely worded email to Lady Mary when his phone pinged at him. “Thank God.” Reaching over, he picked it up and found a text from Guy.

It simply read, “I’m home!”

Thomas looked at the clock…and swore. Standing quickly enough he almost knocked his chair over, he turned and hurried for his coat. “So sorry. Was working and lost track of time. I’ll get a cab and be right there.” He shoved his feet in his shoes and was looking up the number for a cab when the phone actually rang. It was, naturally, Guy. “Hello,” Thomas answered, breathless even though he hadn’t gone more than five feet. “I’m coming, really, I just-”

“No need,” the cheerful voice on the other end informed him. “I’m here.”

Thomas stopped in his track. “Wait. You mean you’re home  home?”

“Surprise! Just got out of the cab. Could you come give me a hand with the bags? And maybe a kiss?”

“Be right out.” Thomas hung up and, bypassing his coat, headed for the front drive. Opening the door, he found Guy paying the driver, a small collection of three suitcases gathered around his feet. He’d left the country with two. “Guy!”

The other man looked up and smiled broadly. “Thomas! So good to see you. Did you miss me?”

Striding across the gravel, completely ignoring the cab, Thomas walked up and threw his arms around his boyfriend, pulling him into the tightest hug he could manage. “Of course I did.” He pulled back, scowling, and scolded, “But why didn’t you text me when you were landing? I’d have met you at the airport!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Guy replied with a shrug.

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

New Boyfriend part 1

I don’t mean to offend anyone but if I do I apologize. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

Mentions of aggressive Jin with an unconventional weapon, mentions cussing on both sides, mentions of hitting people and throwing tantrums. Some crack elements thrown in.

That was it. He had finally pissed you off and upset you for the last time, you were done. 

You had gone out of your way to make a nice dinner for your boyfriend for your anniversary, your 5th anniversary. He didn’t call to say he would be late. Nobody from his office told you he would be late (and you had been there to deliver his lunch as you always did). Nobody called you or let you know that your boyfriend of 5 years would be too busy doing who the hell knows what to come to your shared home and enjoy the dinner you cooked and spend time with you on your anniversary. You had spent all day on it, called him, texted him, emailed him and everyone else at the office who you had a contact number or email for: nothing. He didn’t show up. You waited for him all night and about half of the next day: still nothing.

So you calmly got up, wiped your tear-stained face, and cleaned everything off the dinner table. Putting what could be salvaged into containers as leftovers you could take to work, you threw the rest away. He wouldn’t be coming home. 

Your relationship with your long-term boyfriend had been a bit strained recently, but you thought it was getting better. Guess you were wrong. You cleaned off the table, picking up the tissues as you went around cleaning your house. That’s what it was now- yours. He never came home anymore and you could only guess it was because of her, his “best friend” who he kept saying he didn’t have any romantic feelings for but you knew otherwise. You were hoping it was just a fling, a weird phase he was going through. He came home to you less and less, with the excuse of needing to finish more work or the office wanted him to stay late again. 

You took the champagne and dumped it down the sink since it couldn’t be refrigerated. You went into the living room and put the movies back on the shelf, you wouldn’t be watching any romantic movies for some time. You took the plate of his favorite cookies that you had made with so much care to make sure they were absolutely perfect and put them in a broken down, leaky storage container to take by the office later. That would be the last time any of them see you.

Then you went towards the back of the house to your bedroom, into the bathroom and stripped to take a shower. A nice, long, cleansing shower. You were going to wash your 5 wasted years off. Maybe you could find a club later tonight and grab a nice guy and do to him what you had always wanted to but couldn’t, since he had prevented you from leaving the house while he was gone. Your boyfriend-sorry, Former boyfriend now- even made you quit your job because he wanted you to depend on him. 

“Well, screw you!” you said out loud, wanting to forget such a person ever existed. You were going to scrub your body to rid yourself of his cheating germs, and you were going to see if you could get your old job back. After spending probably about 2 1/2 hours in the shower and then fixing yourself up with makeup, you decided to give your old boss a call. You felt videochat would be better, that way you could see his reactions while you talked to him about possibly getting your job back.

Waiting...waiting...waiting...

The screen went from black to an office building. Your old boss was still working? This was pretty late, even for a workaholic like him. You saw a figure off to the side but ignored it and said hello anyway.

“Hey, boss Kim! You there?

He finally turned to look at his phone. “Yeah, I’m here. What do you want this ti-Oh!!” he looked shocked to see you on the other end. “Y/N, it’s been so long. How are you?”

You had to cut him off before he asked too many questions. “I’m ok. Um, would it be possible to get my old job back? I’m kind of going through a rough patch right now and I could use some help.” 

He frowned. Oh, great, guess this wasn’t going to work. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m actually not in charge of hiring people anymore, even though this wouldn’t be a new hire. I can put in a good word for you though, and maybe I can help you in that way. I thought you didn’t want to work anymore? That’s what your boyfriend told me.”

He. 

Did. 

WHAT?!?! 

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you were shocked that he would do that to you, when he told you he wouldn’t say anything to your boss.

“Oh, you didn’t know? He came by the office a few days ago and told me you weren’t coming back to work, and asked to change your contact information to his. I told him he couldn’t do that without your permission and he told me it was ok, that everything between you was fine.”

Oh, you filthy bastard! “It’s a little complicated. Can we talk about it over coffee or something tomorrow? It’s actually really important that I get my job back. That’s the only job I know, and I don’t have the time or energy to find another job and go through training for it.”

“Oh, I see. I understand. Tomorrow, huh? Let’s see...yeah that works. Can you meet me at 10am at Cafe J-Holic? I have to meet someone there anyway, and maybe they can help you if I can’t.”

“Yeah, sure. I can do that. Is it easier to drive there or take the bus?” Your dinky little car had been taken by your now ex, and so you would have to take the bus unless you could borrow a car.

“Are you having vehicle issues too? I can just go pick you up then. You still live in the same place right? I’ll be there at 8:30am then.”

“Whoa, wait! I appreciate that, I really do, but is it ok for you to do that?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be? I used to help you like that all the time. Just think of it that way. 8:30am, got it? I’ll text you when I get there, and I promise I’ll stay in the car so I don’t attract unwanted attention, ok?”

“OK, fine. You are so damn stubborn. But this is why you’re my friend.”

“I know :)” He smiled at you from the other side of the camera.

“And still such a narcissist.”

He put his hand on his chest, pretending to be offended “I’m so shocked you could think of me like that!” 

He looked at you for a bit, neither of you laughing. “Haha, I guess that wasn’t very funny was it?” He said, scratching the back of his neck a bit.

“No, not really. 8:30am, was it? I’d better go to sleep then. Thanks for agreeing to help me tomorrow, I hope it works.”

“Me too. I’m sorry to hear you’re having trouble, but I’ll help however I can.”

You hung up the call after him, getting into bed after you made sure the doors and windows were all shut, locked and bolted. You were all alone now, and it was going to stay that way. If your ex broke in you’d call the cops and put a restraining order on him. 

5am you were still awake, worried. Worried he actually would break in. It was ridiculous to think that way, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. He had been unpredictable throughout the entire relationship (if you could even call it one). And he never called or texted before showing up. 

You were being silly. Getting up out of bed, you left your room to get something to drink, maybe that would help. You heard a loud noise outside the kitchen window as you were grabbing a bottle of water to take back to your room. 

“It’s just the neighbor bringing his trash out to the road. The dog probably knocked it over again.” You said to yourself. Standing back up you went to head back into your room and paused. Normally when the dog knocks the trash over he scolds the dog. It usually just wanted to play with its owner. You didn’t hear anyone saying anything. “Maybe it was the wind, or a raccoon?” you tried to think of other reasons for the noise outside to calm yourself down. You grabbed your cell phone and pocket knife just in case though, because you were starting to feel a bit uneasy. What if he did actually show up and break in? Not that he ever had before, but you were done with him now and maybe he had somehow figured that out. 

You sent a quick text to your buff neighbors (you had one on either side of you), explaining what was going on with as few specific details as you could, and said you might need some extra protection right now, you were kind of spooked. They both got back to you fairly quickly: Wonho said he’d be right over to check on you using the secret emergency door your ex-boyfriend Jin didn’t know about, and St.Van told you he would keep an eye out for anything suspicious for you and then let Wonho know, that way it was more direct. They were both off-duty right now, but they were very successful cops. Any criminals didn’t stand a chance against them. And that was very reassuring for you since Jin had done some strange things with druggies every now and then. 

Wonho came in soon after he said he would be, making sure you were safe first and that all the entrances were either blocked off or locked. You told Wonho a little about what was going on and he was very understanding about it, almost like he had already known.

“You didn’t know about this already, did you? About him not planning on coming home and her, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. But sadly I’m not surprised.  With the way he acted around Geumhyuk and I, he probably suspected us of being cops. He always got real antsy when we would try to ask him a simple question. Heaven forbid we ask anything about you, he would get oddly possessive but distant at the same time. Then he would get mad and stomp back into the house. How did you deal with all that?”

You looked down at your feet, not wanting to talk about the aftermath of those times with him. He did stomp around frequently, and he usually either kept to himself or he took his anger out on you in the form of an argument.  A few times he had grabbed your arm hard enough to leave a bruise or hit you hard enough to need makeup when leaving the house, but he never hit you real bad. And you never got to ask him about it later because he was never there. 

“I didn’t. He was usually gone by the time I tried to ask him about what happened or why he was acting like that. I don’t know why I didn’t break up with him sooner, I’m so dumb!” You turn away from Wonho, not wanting him to see you cry. You were always ugly when you cried, at least you were according to Jin.

Wonho came up beside you and gently put his arm round your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “Hey, don’t say that! You are not the dumb one here, Jin is. He’s the dumb one for not seeing what a wonderful person you are, and-”

“And what,Won-;”

“Shh, I heard something,” he whispered, moving you behind him and heading towards the kitchen. You suddenly had a very bad feeling about this and pulled back from him, trying to drag him away from the kitchen doorway. 

“It’s ok, I’m here with you. He can’t hurt you.”

You didn’t say anything, pressing speed-dial 4 for St.Van and pulling out your pocket knife while dragging Wonho with you into the closet in your bedroom. You motioned for him to be quiet, and he figured it out. You could be slightly paranoid at times, but you were shaking, which could only mean one thing.

Jin had to be outside. 

St. Van answered the phone and you immediately told him to lower his voice and grab the handcuffs, that Jin was outside and you had a bad feeling he was there to cause trouble. He said ok and came right over. Within minutes you heard yelling and banging around outside.

“What the hell, Y/N? Why are they here? Are you cheating on me with them? I never should have left you alone here, I knew you’d pull a stupid stunt like this.” You opened your mouth to yell back at him but Wonho covered your mouth and shook his head. 

“He’s not worth it, hun. You knew that already.” You knew he was right, but it still hurt. To think you wasted 5 years on an ungrateful asshole was painful. You thought he was the one, and you couldn’t have been more wrong. You slowly got up to peek outside, you wanted to at least see his face. Wonho didn’t think it was safe and followed you out of the closet to the window, staying close behind you. 

Carefully peeking out the window, you saw St.Van struggling with Jin on the lawn, trying to wrestle the knife out of his hands long enough to cuff him. You were worried for your life because Jin could be incredibly aggressive, but you were also worried about Wonho and St.Van. They didn’t know just how bad Jin could get. And St. Van looked like he was running low on energy and strength. You felt Wonho get up from beside you and you turned just fast enough to see him walk towards the door. You must have looked absolutely petrified but he said to stay put, he’d be back soon.

“Ok, I’ll stay here. But if you can’t find me later I’m probably hiding in the closet.”

Wonho just nodded and walked out quietly. 

You quickly turned your head back to the window to make sure your nasty ex-boyfriend was still there and to see how St.Van was holding up. Suddenly you saw Wonho sneak up on them from behind Jin and watched as he slowly pulled out his taser. Wonho signaled to St.Van to move quickly so he wouldn’t get hurt, and the second the two of them were separated, Jin made a mad dash for the house, trying to open the door to get in. You locked the bedroom door from the inside, something Jin never knew about. Running back to the window again you see Jin trying to fight off both Wonho and St.Van, Wonho struggling to wrench the kitchen knife out of Jin’s fingers. St.Van, at a speed you didn’t believe was humanly possible, runs and tackles Jin from behind, causing him to fall over. This gives Wonho a chance to confiscate the knife and handcuff Jin.Wonho now had time to tase Jin after they had cuffed him, and he was reduced to a flopping mess. You kind of felt bad for him because nobody really deserved that, but at the same time it was kind of interesting to see him in pain, like he had caused you. So he didn’t deserve that, but at the same time he did. 

Wonho calls the police station to let them know they’ll be getting a guest at least overnight. About 10 minutes later a cop car pulled up and 5 officers hopped out, taking Jin from your yard and covering his mouth so he wouldn’t bite them. You never realized how ridiculous or angry he was until now. He must have had problems growing up or something to cause all this. After the officers had muzzled your ex, they put him in the car between 2 of the cops. The other 3 decided who would stay with Wonho and St.Van for backup in case he somehow escaped his cell, and the other 2 went into the cop car after they’d decided. You guessed that the one who stayed was friends with your neighbors because they stood there on the lawn talking for quite a while after Jin had been removed. You weren’t going to be sleeping tonight, or this morning since it was now after 1:00am, so you’d just have to drink coffee before you left to meet with your old boss, Junsu.

You found out the one who stayed behind was a friend of Wonho and St.Vans, named Yongguk. He looked pretty capable of doing his job, but that’s beside the point. They all come inside and head to your bedroom where you’re half hiding from everything and they explain to you that with the three of them there will be more protection. So 2 of them will watch the perimeter of your house and the last one will stay with you to make sure you can get some sleep (by ‘with you’ they mean at the foot of your bed or outside the door, they aren’t creeps). They agree to rotate every few hours. You just nod in agreement, because you do need to at least try and sleep even if it is after 1am.

You lay in bed, trying to relax and somehow you’re out in 30 minutes. But it’s not a peaceful sleep like you would have liked. It’s a total nightmare. It starts with Jin breaking out of his cell and coming back to your house. He breaks in while you’re getting ready for a date, takes your friendly police friends and sticks them to 3different walls of your living room and kitchen with industrial strength silly string. You yell at him to stop but he ignores you as always.

“You can’t stop me, I’m invincible! I’ve eaten 10 cans of spinach. I’m Korean Popeye!! Muahaha!!”

Then he grows to the size of the Empire State Building and crushes your house, with you and the boys still inside. You toss and turn, crying and screaming. Sweating buckets and gripping the sheets in fear you try to stop nightmare Jin until you hear ringing. You open your eyes to see that it’s now morning. Looking at your phone you answer it quickly, wondering why St.Van was calling you when he’s right downstairs.

“What’s going on? What happened? What time is it?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, one question at a time. It’s 9:45am, you screamed and cried all night. I’m so sorry you have to go through this, but we’re here to help. And as far as what happened, Jin broke out of his cell and Yongguk is currently sitting on him on the lawn to hold him down. And there’s a silver Rolls-Royce parked up the road from here with a middle-aged man in the driver’s seat. Do you know anyone like that?”

“Crap on a cracker! I overslept. Ok keep holding him down, I gotta get ready and go. That car has my old boss in it, he’s here to pick me up to see if I can get my old job back. I don’t have my car right now because Jin took it a couple months ago. I’ll be right down, just give me a minute.”

You hurriedly get dressed and grab everything you’ll need, grabbing the key to your secret entrance in case your ex is still there later. You get down the stairs to see Wonho and St.Van waiting for you.

“Ok guys, I have requests of you two. St.Van: I want you to go out and help Yongguk hold him down because when I walk out he’s gonna want to hurt me. He’s gotten increasingly more aggressive. Just hold him down until I get to the Rolls-Royce.”

You then turn to Wonho “here, this is a special key. I want you to lock my door, and how it’s done is just like any other lock. You put the key in and turn it to the left but then keep going and turn it 3 times. This enables a secret security feature I had put in when I suspected him of cheating. It basically electrifies the whole house except the secret entrance, so use that if you need inside for something or you want to rest. Just don’t let Jin see you because he doesn’t know about that and I don’t want him to. And don’t let Yongguk or St.Van touch the house. Ok?”

They both nod.

“Alright, I have everything and I’ve told you everything. Are we ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

You get closer to the door as a group. “Ok St.Van, you need to go out first to help hold him down, and I don’t care how as long as he can’t get up until after I’m gone. Got it?”

St.Van nods, reaching for the door and running outside to help Yongguk sit on Jin.

“Ok, now us,” you turn to Wonho, nodding. He locks the door as soon as both of you are outside, and you sprint across your lawn. Running in your cute dress and kitten heels toward freedom. Towards Junsu and the possibility of getting your job back. You just barely reach the passenger door and start to open it

“Y/N WATCH OUT!!”

You quickly yank the door open and pull it shut, locking it behind you and scooting over as close to Junsu as you can.

“Sorry, but he scares me like this.”

“You little cheating bitch! You think he can save you? You’re fucking all of them aren’t you, you whore? I don’t know why I even started dating you!” He laughs maniacally as he tries to open the door.

Fearing the very likely chance of damage to the car, you ask Junsu to roll the window a crack, so he can hear you speak. He rolls his eyes at you but does what you’ve asked.

“That’s enough now, Kim Seokjin. We’re done, alright? You’ve hurt me for the last time. I know you were cheating on me with your ‘best friend’. You hid your laundry from me so I wouldn’t find out she was making out with you and your clothes. You stopped calling and texting me when you were going to be late. You stopped coming home. You would get angry at me for every little thing that happened to you. If I didn’t want to -how you put it-play with you because I was too tired from dealing with you you hit me and threw things at me. You forced me to quit the only job I ever had, and then you go behind my back and ask for my contact info to be changed to yours? You have a new toy now, go play with her and leave me alone. I never want to see you again. And you have within the next hour and a half to return MY CAR to me in the exact condition you took it. That car has always been in my name and mine alone, not yours. You don’t give it back, and I’ll take your lying, cheating, two-timing bastard asshole to court for it.”

You lean back and roll up the window, kissing Junsu on the cheek before he drives away to get to your meeting at Cafe J-Holic.

You look back in the rear view mirror to see your ex boyfriend standing there, looking bewildered and führious.

“Bye bitch.”

[monzabee]

OKAY TO PREFACE, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO RESPOND TO THIS!!! I JUST WANTED TO SHARE AND IT TURNED INTO A WHOLE RANT 😭😭😭

i recently got my friend into f1 and she SWEARS that i only got into watching it because me and my boyfriend are a f1 fanfic trope. (we’ve been together two years but i met him at my first ever job. i’ve been watching f1 since before i knew him). anyways, she says it’s the way we act on top of the obvious passenger princess X driver trope WHICH OKAY i am admittedly a horrible driver and so i think she’s onto something there and i thought it was funny so i wanted to tell a fellow f1 girlie.

SOOO my boyfriend is a master tech (a pro mechanic basically) and currently getting a degree in engineering. he can build a car from scratch, has worked with mercedes & audi & been offered jobs by literal luxury ass car brands that he had to turn down cause he’s doesn’t graduate for a couple more months. basically, he’s a car genius and hes not even 21 yet (subtle brag cause i’m his official hype woman). he wanted to get into racing as a kid but as he got older, felt like he was more interested in the building and fixing of cars then the actual racing, though he still LOVES racing himself it’s just not a career he wanted to pursue.

NOW OKAY, so he’s this amazing driver and builder car guy and when we met i didn’t even have a license and nobody trusted me enough with their car to practice cause im… not great. i have a habit of going way too fast but recklessly cause i have zero skills and also breaking way too hard. he actually took the time to teach me how to drive. 99% of the time i’m still a passenger princess and the 1% this man is gripping his fucking seat and giving me comments like (these are real ones too) “ooh don-annnnd you cut him off. okay. that’s fine,” “look that guy just flipped you off haha” “what? why?” “cause he had the right of way and you almost ran him over?” “BABE BABE BABE THIS IS ONLY AN EXIT” “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME SOONER?” “I THOUGHT YOU KNEW” “WELL CLEARLY NOT!!?” and the same exact conversation about me hitting a curb and he ‘thought i would notice and correct my mistake’ (spoiler: i didn’t. i never notice. i am a menace to the streets and a public safety hazard behind the wheel). there’s so much more. i literally ran over his neighbors mailbox the same exact night that i accidentally drove over the middle part of a traffic circle. our texts ab me driving are so funny i wish i could screenshot and send them on anon. the best thing though is he always makes fun of me and gives me shit but when i tell you if i even do a smidgen of a thing good or like correctly name a car type or brand or a car part his whole attitude changes and now he’s my biggest supporter and suddenly i am a fucking car pro.

ANYWAYS, LET ME NOT GIVE HIM TOO MUCH CREDIT CAUSE HE WOULD CALL ME CORNY! so he IS the best person for car related shit BUT in every other aspect i am the go to. i gotta type out his professional emails and explain that you can in fact NOT put that type of plastic in the microwave. hes good at math, cars, video games, speaking more than one language, being strong, and knowing how to swim but I TAKE THE CAKE IN EVERYTHING ELSE!!!

👻👻👻

SORRY THIS IS SO LONG! YOU DONT GOTTA REPLY !!!

OKAY I READ THIS WHEN I WAS LITERALLY LEAVING MY HOUSE LAST NIGHT BUT I THINK WE MIGHT BE THE SAME PERSON😭 i've had my driver's licence for five years but i swear everytime i get behind the wheel i feel like i've forgotten how to drive so i do prefer to be just a passenger princess. SO I GET YOU AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH IT AND I THINK IT'S BETTER THAN BEING THE DRIVER😭

also you boyfriend is an engineering student?? MINE IS TOO😭 the things he talks to me sometimes i totally don't get it at all but it is so funny every time he tries to teach me something about engineering because my humanities brain cannot handle it😭

ANYWAY READING THIS LAST NIGHT MADE ME SO EXCITED AND IT WAS SO CUTE SO THANK YOU FOR MAKING MY NIGHT😭🩷

[heyitsme1040]

When It's All Too Much [l.l]

summary : Loki’s been gone for a month to Asgard, and his return home gets delayed. You miss your boyfriend, and it is during the extinction of his mission that everything becomes too much. All your pent up emotions from the last month come bursting out. You’re surprised that Loki is there to comfort you as you’re crying. He helps you feel better from your emotional turmoil. 

pairings : Loki Laufeyson x Reader

warnings : One use of y/n, crying (if I missed anything let me know!)

word count : 1,030

AO3 (x)

a/n : Day ten of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘sadness’. 

Today was one of those mornings where everything seemed to go wrong. You’d missed your alarm, broke your favorite mug, and misplaced your phone. Not having the time to look for it, you rushed out of your apartment and to the meeting room Steve was debriefing everyone in. You slipped in the door just as Steve was assigning everyone missions for the week. While you worked with Tony in his labs, you were also the Avengers’ go-to lab technician for mission equipment. You needed to know where they were going to make sure the correct equipment would be sent with them. 

“Y/n, we need you to modify Redwing’s stealth frequency,” Steve informs you.

“Of course, Cap,” you nod, “I can have that done in fifteen minutes.”

The meeting continues, and you write down the two other modifications the team needs on its equipment. You’re quick to enter your lab and get everything adjusted. You manage to adjust the frequency of Redwing’s stealth mode, adjust the plates of Bucky’s arm, and finally begin working the adjustments to the comms systems. Most of the team had already left for their missions when you finish adjusting the comms for their next missions. It’s quiet when you begin the walk to your apartment, and you feel yourself relax at the thought of Loki arriving home tonight. 

You are surprised that the apartment is still empty as you enter. You turn the lights on as you walk through. Changing out of your work clothes, you trip over your phone next to the bed. You sigh, picking it up, having forgotten you couldn’t find it this morning. You quickly scroll through all your notifications. Replying to the most important emails, you pause seeing a message from Thor. Tapping the text, you feel your mood drop a little more reading that Loki’s business on Asgard is going to take an extra two days to finish. 

You trudge your way out of your room, wishing he’d be home already. He’d already been gone a month, and you missed him. There wasn’t any way you could talk to him when he was back on Asgard, but you were grateful Thor was able to give you updates when Loki was gone. Having nothing left to look forward to for a few days, you head back to your lab feeling glum. You knew you were close to finishing your most recent invention, you just needed to figure out the final calculations to make it work. 

The repeated failed attempts at a solution did nothing but sour your mood further as the hours passed. You were tired of everything going wrong recently. Everything was becoming too much and you couldn’t fight the tears welling in your eyes. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep everything inside for much longer. Quickly you rushed to your room, hoping that you’d manage to get there before the tears fell. 

Slamming the door behind you, you didn’t even register that the lights in the living room were turned on unlike how they were when you left. You leaned against the door, slinking down as the tears began to pour out. Your chest aches at the lonely feeling you’d had ever since Loki left and your brain focused on all your recent failures at the job you were supposed to be good at. Vision blurred by tears and head pounding at the intensity of your crying, you don’t register the dark figure that was coming toward you. It isn’t until you feel arms around you and smell Loki’s familiar linen and mint scent that you realize he’s home. 

His presence is like a balm to your sadness, taking away the sharpest pangs of sorrow. He holds you tightly, stroking your hair while rocking the two of you. You cling to him tightly, grateful he’s here to hold you. 

“I’m so sorry darling,” Loki says into your skin. “Everything’s okay, I’m here now. Let it all out.”

You cry harder knowing he’s got you. The feelings you tried so hard to keep at bay rise to the surface as you register he’s home. 

“You’re supposed to be gone for another day,” you force out between sobs. 

“I finished my diplomatic duties faster than I expected,” Loki calmly explains. “I didn’t want to be without you another day, darling.”

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“I’m elated to be home, darling. I just wish you’d had a better time in my absence.”

You shrug, knowing it was out of both your control. There had been a lot of small issues building up on top of you missing him. Everything was better whenever he was home. You slowly managed to calm down your cries, matching your breathing with his steady breaths. You pulled away from where your face was buried in his chest to look up at him. Loki’s hand cupped your cheek as his thumb swiped away your fallen tears. 

“Hi my love,” Loki softly kissed you. “I’m sorry you were without me for so long. Do you wish to tell me what happened to make you so sad?”

“It’s dumb,” you mumble. 

“Nonsense, whatever it is that made you feel that way is anything but dumb.”

You sigh letting the bitter emotions escape you, “It wasn’t one thing. It was a lot of minor things, and I missed you, so I guess I just let it all stay pent up for too long. I’m sorry this is what you came home to,” you sheepishly admit. 

“Darling, I love coming home to you. No matter the state you are in, I am never anything less than happy to see you.”

You nod, convinced by his tone alone. You watch as he stands, offering his hand to you. Taking it, you allow him to pull you to your feet. He wraps his arms around you once again, embracing you properly. 

“Thank you for helping me,” you kiss his neck, unable to reach his face. 

“Thank you for allowing me to help,” Loki kisses your lips. “Now then, let’s lay down. I want to hear everything about the past month I’ve missed here.” 

You smile, grateful he knows exactly how to take care of you. 

Author’s Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

©heyitsme1040 If you find this post on any platform under a username different than heyitsme1040 it is not their work.

[redroomwidows]

hi 😭

i hope youre well!! i saw that your requests for shang-chi are open and lksdjfnaslkjfn i love this man.

i looked at the "an intimate moment" prompt list and what about looking at your crush or lover only to find them already looking at you and when you make eye contact, they smile at you with shang-chi??

anyway ily and i hope your day's kind to you <3

💕💕💕

(I love him too, so much omg. Also, you are always so sweet)

SUMMARY: Y/n reads what twitter thinks about her boyfriend.

REQUESTED BY: @angelicwasp

WARNINGS: Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings spoilers!

WORD COUNT: 600

I planned this fic really fluffy, but it turned kind of crack-y once I started writing it lol.

Send in a Shang-Chi request

Shang-Chi x fem! readers

Sundays were quiet. Shang-Chi usually booked it off and Y/n was always so exhausted from the long week and night at the karaoke bar the night before, she usually stayed in bed watching Netflix.

Today however, she’d taken to sitting at the small desk in her and Shang-Chi’s shared living room, typing away on her laptop. She worked as a publicist for The Avengers, and God, were some of them hard to like. She was currently sending an email to the one and only Bucky Barnes about how no, he couldn’t go around threatening anti-vaxers, even if it’s ‘What Steve would have wanted’ and she completely agreed.

After the email was sent, she sighs and leans back, minimising her email tab and going on to twitter. It was technically work if she looked at the Avengers tag. Which...was trending. As soon as she saw it, she begged the gods it was something good.

She clicks on the tag and surprisingly sees a video of her boyfriend kicking the arses of the assassins that attacked him the other week. The top tweet reads ‘Is it wrong I’m turned on by this?’, Y/n bites back a laugh and keeps scrolling.

Most of the tweets were talking about how he’s definitely a secret Avenger, or how he’s probably already been recruited.

Some were @-ing the official Avengers account (which Y/n had access to), saying how they should hire him. But a lot of the tweets, and Y/n means a lot, were people simping over him. She can’t help but laugh at some of them.

Because no, he wouldn’t do that, and that’s a completely unrealistic size for someone’s penis. She likes a few as herself, and a few from the official account, retweeting Sam’s response to a fan which said ‘He can’t be your favourite avenger, he’s not one!’.

One tweet reads ‘God, I bet he gives the best hugs'. He did, Y/n could agree with that. He always hugged her after a bad day, or even if she just asked. He hugged her if they’d been a part for a few days, and after the...situation, with his father, he came back home and gave her the longest hug Y/n had ever experienced. He’d muttered ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you’ into her neck several times that night, even when they were cuddled up in bed, half asleep.

Lord, he was a sweetheart. He always knew the right thing to say and do. He brought her flowers every time he could with his small wage and he cooked her delicious meals. Sure, they went on simple dates, but he made them all worthwhile. He chose to wake up to her face every morning when he asked her to move in with him. He loved her, and wow, how did she manage to find a catch like him?

Y/n smiles, thinking of how God damn lucky she was before looking over at the sofa, behind her shoulder, where she knew Shang-Chi was sat. However, instead of looking at the TV screen, he was looking at her.

“You alright there?” she asks, a soft smile on her face

“Yeah, you?” his voice is soft and gentle

“Yeah,” Shang-Chi’s grin widens for some reason “Why were you staring at me like a weirdo?”

“I just really love you,” he whispers and Y/n can’t help a giddy grin taking over her face

“I really love you too,” she turns back to her screen, and Shang-Chi keeps looking before turning back to his phone, where his latest text to Katy read ‘I think I’m going to propose’.

Again, I’m just tagging whoever I want lol, I’m not gonna be doing this forever though, so remember to fill out my taglist google form!

@florenceyelena @badass-dora-milaje @lovelybarnes @stydiapercebeth12 @lazyunknownwerewolf @saturnsneptune

If any of you want to be permanently added, fill out out my google form

[neopuppy]

Hot Sauce drabbles | Heartbeat (M)

Another day, sitting across from your boyfriend. Awkward breakfasts after petty arguments becoming a reoccurring problem. Quick glances at your phone screen as messages with hidden previews pop up. Suspicious looks thrown your way from across the table. Turning your phone face down, ignoring the rush of excitement bursting in your chest.

Jeno grinds hips against your ass, panted breaths sounding in your ear. Muffled dirty words egging your arousal on between gasps of air. Reminders of why you’re here. Why you beg and cry, everything that draws you back to this spot on his bed.

Jeno used to fuck you with love. Now he only fucks you to leave a space for himself. Intention full of cruelty and possession.

“You know why you keep coming back?” Jeno’s venomous tone rings through your ear. “You love my cock. You love me.”

Silence in response only infuriates him further. Shoving your upper half down on his bed. Pulling out to the tip, thrusting forward with enough force to knock you off your knees. Jeno’s hands straining around your hips, veins rippling up his forearms. He couldn’t leave marks, but he never cared. Driving his cock far deep into you was Jeno’s only concern. Filling and stretching you to a maddening space. Getting you to the point of a blubbering nasty mess. Crying and begging for him to cum inside so you could keep him with you.

Jeno harshly tugs you back, arching off his chest. Hand wrapped in your hair pulling your head to the side, neck on full display. Gliding between your walls with precision of a man who knows your body all too well. Demanding thrusts loudly clapping around his dimly lit room. Dizzying familiar feeling coiling between your bodies. Hot chest shoving against your sweating back with every consistent thrust. Jeno driving you to your breaking point.

It was wrong, but it was right. Cum spilling past your tightened walls, dripping down your trembling thighs. He always gave you so much. Fucked you to the brim, leaving you empty and full in different ways.

Jeno peppers languid drawn out kisses up your spine. Hot lips searing along your skin. Everything about him tugging at your conscious. Cock numbly pulsating in your wrecked core. Already planning your excuses for later….”work was exhausting, I need to sleep baby.”

Jeno reaches your ear, tongue licking up from your jaw. Catching your lobe with a mean suck. Spitting out vile words between sweet soft kisses- “You come back cause he’ll never fuck you like I fuck you.”

————————————————————————-

“You know I saw your ex-boyfriend yesterday.”

Your back stiffens on the metal chair. Sat outside the cafe your boyfriend suggested for breakfast today. Clicking your phone shut, eyes quickly reading Jeno’s text wishing he’d never fucked you in the first place.

“Oh..” you take interests in your coffee, stirring around the small silver spoon. Watching the white cream blend into dark brown.

“Can’t believe you dated that asshole Jeno for so long. What’d you even see in him?”

With a shrug you change the subject. No need to further threaten and upset your boyfriend over his alpha male superiority complex. Always texting you photos from Jeno’s socials of past times when you dated. Questioning why he hasn’t deleted or at least hid posts featuring you in them. You yourself could not pin point the answer to that question. Maybe Jeno was hopeful you’d end things and take him back, officially..

9 new text message waiting!

Jeno: “You know I didn’t mean that.”

Jeno: “Come over when he goes to work.”

You swipe past emails ignoring Jeno’s text message notifications popping up. Your boyfriend far too engrossed in his breakfast burrito to observe your body language. Caving when you see Jeno’s idea of an apology show up in the little bar at the top of your screen. You’d always be weak for him, that was the problem. Jeno wasn’t the problem, you were.

Jeno: “I’m serious. I need to be inside you.”

Jeno: “You say the nastiest shit in bed and it’s fucking awesome.”

a/n: omg my first drabble🐒

Next—> Maybe We Should

[stiltonbasket]

Hi hi~ 💖

I hope you're still taking prompts for the art thief au! I just wanna ask how did NMJ join in on the Lan Family's... side job? And how did he react about it?

A couple of months after their first anniversary, Nie Mingjue receives a text message from his boyfriend (though boyfriend is hardly the right word, since Mingjue already considers them engaged) canceling their next shopping date in town.

I’m sick, the message reads. Can we reschedule it for next week, A-Jue?

Nie Mingjue’s stomach sinks. He hits the call button next to Xichen’s contact, counting down the seconds as he waits for an answer; but Lan Xichen does not reply, save for another text message explaining that he was running a fever, and didn’t feel well enough to talk.

Wangji is with me, Lan Xichen says. You don’t have to worry, sweetheart.

But Nie Mingjue does worry, because Xichen was fine yesterday afternoon. They had lunch together at Mingjue’s apartment, after which Lan Xichen kissed him goodbye and drove back to work without any sign of illness, so what could have gone wrong in the last thirty-two hours?

“I wish Huaisang were here,” Mingjue grumbles to himself. His brother left the house earlier that evening, muttering something about a sale going on at the local night market; and though Nie Huaisang spends hours wasting his time and money there every month, his absence tonight means that Nie Mingjue will be moping in his tiny kitchen until dawn, with nothing to do but await Huaisang’s safe return and worry about Xichen, lying ill in bed halfway across the city with no one to look after him but Wangji.

That isn’t exactly fair, Nie Mingjue knows, because Lan Wangji is a decent caretaker. He can cook and clean better than most young men his age, and he bullied Huaisang into taking a first-aid class with him last year: so Lan Xichen is in good hands, and Nie Mingjue’s interference would be neither welcome nor wanted.

But as the hours tick by, Nie Mingjue finds himself growing restless. He wonders if Lan Xichen has enough to eat, if Wangji might end up falling ill as well, and then he begins tormenting himself in earnest. Xichen could be sick with anything from a common cold to the kind of deadly food poisoning Mingjue reads about in the news every other week, and he already knows that A-Huan is sick enough to require looking after. Wangji lives thirty kilometers west of Xichen’s neighborhood, close to his university, and Xichen would never have called his didi over so late if he could manage on his own.

At around eleven o’clock, he calls Huaisang.

The call goes straight to voicemail. His brother’s phone has been turned off.

Suddenly, Nie Mingjue can bear it no longer. For some reason, he is terrified for them both—and though finding Huaisang in the night market this late would be practically impossible, Mingjue can go to Xichen.

He rifles through his kitchen cupboards, throwing instant meals and groceries into a tote bag before opening the freezer. Huaisang boiled a pot of hangover soup two days ago, and the leftovers should be good for sickness if Xichen has something worse than a cold.

Food packed, Mingjue grabs an electric blanket—he doesn’t know if A-Huan owns an electric blanket, if he ever thought of buying one after that time he got stranded during a snowstorm and almost came down with hypothermia—and hurries out into the night before climbing into his car and backing out of the driveway towards the main road.

“Please be all right, A-Huan,” Nie Mingjue murmurs, fighting the impulse to call him again. His fiancé retires at nine o’clock precisely, even without sickness thrown into his routine, but with it...

You have reached Lan Xichen’s voicemail, says his phone, after Nie Mingjue gives in and presses the fast-dial button next to Lan Xichen’s name. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is a professional call, contact my office at Tianyun Law by phone or email to set up an appointment.

Nie Mingjue hangs up and hits Wangji’s contact icon.

The mobile customer you have tried to reach is currently unavailable, the speaker drones; unsurprisingly, Wangji never recorded a message for his voicemail inbox. Leave a message at the tone, or hang up and try again.

Mingjue’s blood runs cold. Even if they were both asleep, surely at least Wangji should have left his phone on?

As he approaches Xichen’s apartment complex, a flash of blue light sparks in his rearview mirror. Nie Mingjue freezes at the closest stop sign, trying not to panic at the sight of at least ten police cars crawling all over the neighborhood; he passed one at the last intersection, and three at the one before that, and now the neighborhood itself seems to be under surveillance.

But the police pay no attention to Nie Mingjue as he passes by, and five minutes later, he lets himself into the gated complex and hurries up the stairs to Lan Xichen’s third-floor apartment. Xichen gave him a set of spare keys, which Nie Mingjue never anticipated he might have to use without his A-Huan’s permission; but now, here he is, sliding them into the doorknob and letting himself in without a sound.

Inside, the apartment is pitch-black. Nie Mingjue frowns, groping for the light switch: but before he can find it, someone crashes into the little foyer and shines a floodlight into his face.

He cries out in alarm, throwing up his arms to shield his eyes from the glare. But then the floodlight dims, and the ceiling lights come on, revealing a slight figure dressed from head to toe in black.

Nie Mingjue drops his bag.

“Huaisang?” he says hoarsely. His brother is pale and wide-eyed, looking strangely shaken at the sight of him; and then, almost immediately, Nie Mingjue remembers that Huaisang said he was going to be at the night market, not here with Lan Xichen.

At that moment, something breaks in Lan Xichen’s kitchen. Nie Mingjue picks up his bag and pushes past his brother, so terrified of what he might find that he can scarcely breathe: but the sight that greets him in the kitchen is completely bizarre, as if it were something out of a film, instead of real life.

Lan Xichen is sitting at the kitchen island with Wangji beside him, in the same way they usually do when Nie Mingjue eats with them. Wangji is in front of Xichen and slightly to his right, holding a steel bowl filled with wads of bloodstained cloth, and Lan Xichen’s attention is fixed on a gaping wound in the jade-white flesh of his own side.

“What’s going on here?” Nie Mingjue croaks, watching as his boyfriend threads a long, curved needle and draws it through his skin, tying a double knot beside the gash before cutting the piece of suture thread and holding out his hand for another one. “A-Huan, what have you done to yourself?”

He looks on in horror as Lan Xichen finishes stitching up the wound (deftly, easily, as if he had done it a hundred times before) and bandages it, all without a sound of pain or a word to Nie Mingjue. But the job is done before Mingjue can count to fifty, and then the two of them are facing each other: one bewildered, in Nie Mingjue’s case, and the other resigned.

“Have you eaten?” Nie Mingjue asks numbly. He can think of nothing else to say—in fact, he can hardly think at all with Lan Xichen looking at him in mingled agony and shame, as if he had done something wrong here. He hadn’t, of course he hadn’t, because his A-Huan is a lawyer with five bitter enemies for every year he’s been practicing, and no matter what Xichen got tangled up in this time, he couldn’t possibly have shot himself—

“No, I didn’t,” Lan Xichen sighs. “It was either a policewoman or a security guard, I think.”

“What--”

“It was the security guard,” Huaisang mutters, folding his arms across his chest. “The policewoman missed. The security tend to be better marksmen than the cops, in our experience.”

Nie Mingjue closes his eyes.

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on here? Xichen?”

Lan Xichen nods shakily and pulls on a tattered shirt, as if the thin cotton might  offer him some form of protection from the conversation ahead. Lan Wangji gets rid of the bloody gauze and the suturing kit, losing his thuggish black clothes on the way, and Huaisang vanishes up the stairs before coming back in a pair of jeans and a soft white sweater.

“We’ll eat first,” Nie Mingjue says gruffly, suddenly desperate to postpone this bizarre confession for as long as he can. “You look dead on your feet, and I don’t want anyone passing out before I’ve heard everything. All right?”

All three of them nod, each one looking guiltier than the next. Nie Mingjue can hardly stand to meet their eyes, so he boils the frozen hangover soup and steams a pot of rice to go with it, scooping the richest portion into Lan Xichen’s bowl before carrying the dinner tray to the table.

“Hurry up and eat,” he orders. “Don’t say a word before those bowls are empty.”

They eat without speaking, silent but for the clicking of their chopsticks; and then, after the last spoonfuls of rice and soup disappear, Nie Mingjue pads off to the living room with Xichen and Huaisang trailing behind him. Lan Wangji brings up the rear, looking like a ghost in his bloodstained clothes, and goes straight to Nie Mingjue’s favorite armchair: leaving him and Xichen without the option to sit close to each other, unless they share the worn loveseat tucked against the back wall.

That is out of the question for obvious reasons, so Huaisang claims the loveseat for himself, and Mingjue and Xichen end up in a pair of easy chairs on opposite sides of the room.

“Well, I’m listening,” Nie Mingjue says at last. “Now talk.”

[wonlouvre]

more for forever | k. mg.

pairing: editor-in-chief mingyu x female reader genre: fluff, a little bit of angst, cliché (in the sense that mingyu is rich and likes to spoil his girlfriend) warnings: mentions of insecurity, food word count: 2.8k

💌: this is just pure indulgence and i really hope you all like this! please wait for wonwoo because i have something in store for him too ;) again, this is cliché please forgive me. please tell me what you think about it hehe i love reading your comments, feedbacks and tags! also a big thank you to @minkwans​ for sharing their ideas and giving this oneshot life! <3

The name Kim Mingyu didn’t ring a bell before. Not until his executive assistant reached out to you because apparently, the photographer slash writer read one of your blog posts and wanted you to take part for their sixth year anniversary issue. You know the famous magazine and publishing company, which is why you thought it was a scam or a ploy to steal your money. It’s a stupid assumption but you can’t blame your mind imagining the worse because you are not a fashion blogger at all. Why would a fashion magazine want you to write an article for them?

Sure, you regularly write and post blog entries on your website. But you write about your dog, your recently bought tea coaster and sometimes your skincare routine. Okay, maybe your occasional outfit of the day as well but nothing in detail. Again, why do they want you to write for them?

Kim Mingyu answered your questions and uncertainties when he personally emailed his contact details to you. You didn’t have to bite, but it didn’t hurt to confirm at the same time. You dialed the number and he indeed proved you wrong. He invited you for a meeting at his office and you accepted. 

Your visits to high-rise buildings, much more to the luxurious office of an executive, is rare to never. You were jaw slacked when your eyes took in the crisp architecture. The design, the furniture, the color, the everything was beyond what you could have imagined a publishing company’s headquarters could be. 

The meeting was nothing but short of an interview. He asked about your blog (which does not even have its own domain by the way), he asked what else you write about, he asked about your desk job (which doesn’t pay much but enough for you to get by), he asked if you have any background about fashion and one last question about your dog, Max, before talking about his proposal. 

To be honest, Mingyu’s offer was tempting. For one article, the commission would be enough for you to move out of your current apartment and move to a brand new and fully-furnished one. But you remained true to yourself and without thinking twice, you declined. 

You can tell that the editor-in-chief and his assistant, who stood beside him all throughout, was surprised by the looks on their faces. But Mingyu respected your decision and didn’t pursue any further. You took your stand from the chair and sincerely thanked him for the time and opportunity. You thought that would be it but when he followed suit with your actions and reached his hand out, it was your turn to be surprised. 

You didn’t hesitate to mirror him and shake his hand, firmly. After that, you’d figure that it’s the end and that you’ll probably get to see a glimpse of him only through your television or phone. But Mingyu proved you wrong once again when he sent an unexpected email three days later asking why.

What might be the reason why you didn’t accept his offer? 

You believed he deserved an explanation of your personal reasons so you disclosed them. And just like that the conversation on that email thread naturally progressed and eventually deepened. The professional emails became casual text messages, the text messages became phone calls, and the phone calls became actual face to face dates at late hours of the evening because he usually clocks out at 9 o’clock. 

The rest, as they say, was in the hands of history. 

Your first date with Mingyu was particularly odd. It was at a traditional Korean restaurant owned by one of his friends who introduced himself as Angel even though his real name is Jeonghan. You didn’t question him or anyone else why because that’s none of your business. But back to the date. It was odd because you have never been to a restaurant that’s completely empty and dead silent before (aside of course, from the typical music played in the background). You asked Mingyu if such an occurrence is normal and he just plainly answered that he rented the whole place all to yourselves. You have always known he’s rich. However, you didn’t believe that booking the whole restaurant was necessary.  

Nonetheless, that first date, in some way, was special for you because there were no distractions. You enjoyed his company and you can tell he enjoyed yours too because he’s quick to mention a second date and it didn’t take a heartbeat for you to say yes. 

But, by far, Mingyu inviting you to the behind the scenes of the making of the sixth anniversary issue that you turned down writing for is one of the most memorable dates the two of you had. It was out of the blue and you two were having difficulty in syncing your schedules. He was beginning to get busier and busier as the anniversary neared and the only way he could think of still making time for you is inviting you to his office. He called you and asked if you’re free to have lunch together. And you, being attracted to the handsome and tall man, didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

He was in the middle of ending his morning meeting when you arrived and you were almost caught off-guard when all eyes were suddenly on you, making you feel small. But Mingyu didn't care as his smile beamed, immediately standing up from his chair to walk towards you. The rest of his staff were still in the midst of walking out of his office when he grasped your hand to pull you inside and you have never felt so shy your whole life.

Since then, he made you tag along to the creative process and you witnessed how hands on he was with every article, every photo, every brand, every trend and every detail that goes to the magazine that he has built and loved with his blood, sweat and tears. He’s beyond dedicated in finding and doing what’s best for the magazine and most importantly, its loyal readers. 

You can tell that he really is deserving of everything that he has and is still receiving.

Mingyu being perfect also applies to your relationship. He’s always present despite being booked with fittings, meetings, photoshoots and business travels twenty-nine days of the month. He never fails to call, never fails to answer your calls. He never fails to offer the warmest hugs and the softest kisses. Well, he fails to be on time during your dates sometimes but he never once stood you up and his cuddles when he sleeps over are enough to apologize for the lost time.

The only flaw he has is that he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Most especially at times where he wants to shower his love in ways that cost more than your paycheck in a year.

Here are some examples:

You know that Mingyu pays attention to every word you say. Even if you just mentioned a passing topic, he will do his best to keep those in mind. With that being said, you mentioned once that you want to renovate the extra bedroom of your apartment and turn it into a study where you could work someday. Your boyfriend, being the rich man he is, offered to hire and pay a team that could help you bring the design you envisioned into life. 

That was during the first few months of your relationship and you were flabbergasted by how easy it was for him to do or much less say. Needless to say, you immediately turned him down and he respected that (but of course, he pouted about it like a child all throughout the day). 

But wait, there’s more. 

Do you remember how you mentioned that Mingyu travels frequently? Yes? Well, Mingyu always books an extra ticket for you just in case you want to join him. Sometimes it’s not even about the flight ticket anymore. It’s about him stopping by your apartment to pick you up unexpectedly as if France is only a drive away. 

It’s unbelievable, really. That’s why you always close the door on his face. But of course, you don’t forget to give him a long kiss and “stay safe” or “I’ll miss you” farewell. Mingyu, ever the good boy he is, lets you win and just return your kisses a little longer for the days he won’t be able to do so. 

Mingyu’s intentions are pure and you’re well aware that the man that you love is only doing this because it’s simple, he loves you. He wants what’s best for you, he wants to give you what you deserve. You can never blame him for being out of touch from reality at times, but you can learn and grow with him. Although of course, he still needs a scolding and a wake up call every now and then. 

Anything else? Yes.

You didn’t take into consideration that he’d remember, but one night while the two of you were about to fall asleep, you sleepily mumbled about your dreams of attending graduate school. It was a mere whisper in the late night against his chest and you even thought that he wouldn’t hear you at all because his eyes were already closed. You honestly didn’t expect that he’d send you brochures of different universities who offer various programs the following day. You had to calm him down as he excitedly talked you through it. You even had to shut him up with your lips and explain that you don’t have the time to study at the moment with your current job. He tried to encourage you with praises and admiration of your dedication, skills and knowledge. But no, you didn’t buy it and that’s the end of discussion. 

The gifts, however, are something that Mingyu is not giving up on. The first few instances he gave you gifts whether it be a high-end handbag, shoes, clothing, and even jewelry, you allowed him. Because there were only a few. But along the way, the gifts got bigger and more frequent. You had to sit him down to set limitations. It was a long conversation of him trying to get the upper hand. But you didn’t let him outsmart you with his hugs and kisses. It was either he was going to tone it down with the gifts or no gifts at all. 

Sometimes, as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, you can’t avoid getting insecure and afraid that the euphoric time you share with Mingyu is not meant to last. At some point, the fact that he's one of the youngest successful editor-in-chiefs of a multi-million earning magazine got overwhelming. You can’t help but feel that you’re no match for him. And again, you hate that your mind gets clouded with ideas that you’re just a charity case he enjoys spending his money on. Of course, you believe that he doesn’t look at you in that way.

It’s you who thinks so. 

“Hey.”

You release the bite on your bottom lip at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Your lost eyes shoot to the stove where he’s cooking and you notice that he’s about done so you should set the table. 

You didn’t even answer Mingyu’s call which concerns him. He wipes the sauce off his hands on the apron he’s wearing and holds your waist before you could even round the corner to the cabinets. 

His warmth snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes blink up to him and he just raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Is there something wrong?” He asks and lowers the heat of the conduction. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you lie, shaking your head, “Let me get the plates. I’m quite hungry.”

You try escaping his strong arms and gaze, but he doesn’t let you go. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist tighter. Your palms automatically land on his chest and the lean muscles make you gulp. 

“I’m going to ask again and this time, I want you to tell me the truth,” he says in a serious yet gentle tone. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh and lean your forehead against his chest. Mingyu also sighs and kisses the top of your head. It’s better to tell him now because you’re not going to get anywhere if you’re just going to keep it to yourself. It will be unfair for him too and that’s not what you want. 

“I just don’t feel so good about myself over the past few days,” you finally voice out. You sound weak, but Mingyu can hear you loud and clear. “I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Mingyu had to pull away and hold your shoulders to search your eyes, his frown showing disbelief and sadness both at the same time. “Did I do or say something to make you feel this way?”

“No, no,” you quickly say and hold his cheeks. “You did absolutely nothing. It’s just all in my head.”

Mingyu becomes silent and you wish you could just drop it because the regret and embarrassment is slowly dawning upon you. You wish you didn’t bring it up anymore because why would you burden him with your problems? 

But Mingyu proves you wrong once again by holding your hand and carefully tugging you to sit on the dining table, saying softly, “Come on. Let’s talk about it.”

And talk you did. You let out your concerns, worries, fears and insecurities. You bore it all without hiding or masking anything. A tear or two slipped once or twice and some words were interrupted by your hiccups, but Mingyu was patient. He listened and held your hand, promising you that it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be worried. It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of him. It’s okay to trust him because he loves you. 

Mingyu loves you and his words and actions assure you that it’s okay to love him too. 

When there were no more words left to say, the two of you shared a comfortable silence. The weight on your shoulders and the sick feeling in your stomach immediately vanished and you have never felt so relieved. You have never felt so free and loved. You can’t believe that Kim Mingyu is real. 

“I know that this is unwarranted,” Mingyu breaks the silence after a while, “but I want you to know that I don’t think of you in any of those ways. To me, you’re the person I love and I am happy with regardless of our different upbringings, different jobs. Those don’t matter to the time and love we share together.”

“I know,” you affirm and kiss his cheek. 

Mingyu nods and smiles against the palm of your hand when a memory suddenly pops in his mind. “I’m not sure if I have told you this already. But the blog entry of yours that caught my attention is about your first ever blog post.”

Your eyes widen at his confession. You have never heard of this before. “You mean the one where I talked about why I love writing so much?”

Your boyfriend smiles and nods. “That one.”

“Gosh. That’s so embarrassing,” you groan and palm your face. 

“What do you mean embarrassing?” He argues, taking your hand to hold again. “That post was one of the most genuine posts that I have ever read. You explained, word by word, your passion, love and dedication to writing in the most honest way possible. Who wouldn’t be moved?”

You pout and unbeknownst to you, that makes his heart squeeze in adoration. 

“It’s not that special,” you mumble, eyes on your intertwined hands. 

“It is to me though.”

Mingyu’s eyes are dreamy and glossy as you meet them again and you could never be more in love. He holds your arms, coaxing you to stand up to straddle his lap. You giggle when he protectively wraps his arms around your waist. His nose scrunches when it grazes yours, but upon meeting his lips you feel it exhale a breath of relief.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. But when Max barks at the two of you, reminding you of the dinner you’re supposed to eat and share with him, the two of you burst into laughter before reluctantly detaching from each other. 

“You doting over me with material things is a perk,” you humor him and he gives you his signature giggle. “But, I wouldn’t trade sharing the same bed, cooking meals or taking care of Max together over any of those.” 

Mingyu nods gives you one last yet long kiss, a promise that there’s more for later. 

More for forever. 

---

a/n 2: this was supposed to be the header/poster of this story but it was too big lol

[lovelettersbyj]

Jealousy Is The Best Flavor

Inspired by 100 Ways by Jackson Wang.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87VRaM5_bAE

Warnings: None.

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader.

Word Count: 1,944.

A/N: When I first became an ahgase this music video had me in a CHOKEHOLD. I had to write about it, Jackson is just too beautiful of a human being not to be a muse. Also, I work in film / on film sets so some mentions of working on music video sets for context.

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

‘Shit, I did this wrong’. I thought to myself, flipping my pencil and erasing the math equation I thought I had just finished, frustratingly ending up right back where I had started.

It was my last year in University, and due to a fluke from when I had transferred schools, if I didn’t take the final level of math, I wouldn't be able to graduate. At first I brushed it off, wanting to focus on my major classes. A slightly concerned email from a compassionate school advisor reminded me of the looming problem that was this math course, and without any other options, I had no choice but to buckle up and deal with one of the most devastating school subjects: calculus.

My phone that was plugged into its charger vibrated once, and my eyes darted to the screen in hopes of being a text from my boyfriend. Unfortunately for me, it was a reminder I had set to feed my cat.

Sighing, I got up from my kitchen table, grabbing the small plastic container of dry cat food, giving it a good shake. Following in our routine, my solid black kitten hopped up on the counter, meowing loudly as I poured his food into his ceramic dish.

“Hi baby,” I cooed, using my thumb and pointer finger to rub small circles behind my kitten’s ear. He simply ignored me, continuing to munch on his nightly feast. A buzz from my phone once again grabbed my focus, and I hurried over to see if it was him.

‘Jackson: hi babe. rehearsals ran late again. i’ll come over soon.’

My heart lurched in my chest, and I unplugged my phone to text him back.

‘Y/n: it’s okay! just get that cute butt over here’

Chuckling at my ridiculous response I set my phone down, running a hand through my hair as the messy mix of calculus notes, homework and a thick textbook sprawled out on my kitchen table reminded me why I was so stressed. I took my seat once again, flipping the pencil through my fingers as I went back to the problem I was previously working on.

I was never one for math, and I made a point to stay away from it as much as possible. When the looming stress of having to deal with another math class had first altered my mood a few months ago, Jackson took clear notice. Even with his busy schedules; balancing his time between GOT7, forming Team Wang, and writing his new music, he made sure to sit down with me one night and calm me down. I always felt bad when he shifted his attention towards me; I knew he had more pressing matters clouding his thoughts that deserved his full attention. Even with JYPE prohibiting the guys from dating anyone while under contract, Jackson sneakily always found time, and a way, to see me whenever he could. I tried my best to show him I was okay during times of quiet panic but Jackson read right through me. He would always come over, even turning his phone off and demanding a quiet night in bed. I was thankful for his support, and I tried my best to reciprocate.

However, this past month was different. Jackson had released two new singles, ‘100 Ways’ and ‘Pretty Please’. Suddenly, his music presence grew substantially, receiving much more attention all across the globe. As excited as I was for him, I knew he was only going to get substantially more occupied, needing to continue to propel his name and music forward. So while Jackson’s been spending his days in the office, and nights in rehearsals for his new music videos, I’ve been at my apartment… studying calculus.

The minutes dragged on like molasses, my eyes physically straining to focus on the pages of work in front of me. My head rested on the palm of my hand, but as my eyes began to droop shut, I lowered my head onto the thick textbook on my right and dozed off.

—————

A soft, fuzzy material suddenly covered my body, the warmth and comfort waking me from my nap. An equally exhausted Jackson smiled at me, and realizing I wasn’t dreaming, I stood up in a flurry and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, pressing myself against his large body as much as I possibly could. Burying my head into his neck, I breathed in the combination of cologne and sweat as yet another reassurance that he truly was back.

He chuckled at my reaction, “Hmm I don’t think you missed me too much.”

I hopped down, taking a step back to steady myself, “I thought you’d be too tired to come over.”

Walking over to the kitchen, I poured some water into his favorite mug I owned and placed it in the microwave, heating it up. Usually Jackson’s too stubborn to eat a full meal after a busy day of rehearsals, but a cup of tea turned into his go-to before bed. I rested my elbows on the counter, watching as he scooped my kitty into his big arms and cuddled with him.

“Nah, I wanted to come see you. I remember you mentioned you had an exam coming up, so I wanted to make sure you were okay…” His voice trailed off as he glanced over at my kitchen table, then back at me. “I’m glad I came.”

“Ha,” I stuck my tongue out at him, then going over to the microwave as it beeped, “I’ve been going over the study guide all week. If I see one more calc equation I think my brain is going to melt.”

Jackson set my cat back on the ground, and he scampered over to his spot on the couch. Walking over into my small kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of honey and a spoon as I handed him the mug.

“Thank you.” He said softly, kissing me once on the forehead as he continued on to prepare his drink, “You just need a break. You’ve been working so hard, let your brain relax.”

I propped myself up on the counter, crossing my legs and letting them dangle as he leaned attractively against the counter I was sitting on. Effortlessly attractive, might I add.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, “Relax? How do you suggest I do that?”

Jackson was silent for a moment, then his face lit up, “Come with me to my shoot tomorrow. You’ll be on set again, and you’ll get to see what I’ve been rehearsing.” He smiled cheekily, wanting me to be there as his personal cheerleader. Which I would easily do in a heartbeat… if it wasn’t for the exam.

I sighed, shifting my gaze to the faded gray wood that lined my kitchen floor, “I don’t know, Jackson… I should keep studying.”

I felt my body beginning to get hot, my palms getting clammy at the thought of having to take my exam next week. I subconsciously began to crack each of the knuckles of my fingers; Jackson noting this and immediately recognizing I was beginning to mentally spiral.

“Hey,” He set his mug down, grabbing both my hands in his, “Baby, you need to give yourself a break. If you overwork yourself you’ll crash, and I don’t want to see you so burnt out again.”

The pleading look in his big brown eyes lowered my guard. Only once before over the course of our relationship had Jackson ever witnessed when I had a mental break. It was when I was first beginning to work for a TV show, and I had about a two week period that were consistently overnight shoots. Every early morning I’d get home and crash on the first soft surface that I could find. In the beginning I was able to at least make it to my bed, but when Jackson woke up one morning and found me sound asleep on the carpet in the living room, he had persuaded me to drop the show to get my sleeping schedule in order and helped me find other stable work.

He continued to stare directly into my eyes, hoping for some sort of sign that his worried pleas would change my mind. And as always, they did.

“Fine.” I gave in. “But only because I’m itching to get back on set again.” I admitted; I couldn’t even remember the last time I was on a professional set since my studies started back up again.

Jackson’s boyish grin extended across his face, and he squished my face in between his big hands as he pressed his lips onto mine, “Yes! You’re going to love it.”

A few months prior Jackson had released a song called ‘100 Ways’. He had been obsessively busy in the recording studio, working late into the night to perfect his new sound. BamBam had only heard a few of the lyrics, but was quick to tell me when he couldn’t help but connect the dots. ‘They’re definitely about you’ He had bragged to me over our bi-monthly ramen dinners, ‘Jackson’s crazy about you’. There was apparently another song he was releasing as well, but when it came to his music, Jackson was so ominous that he’d never let me hear anything until he was sure it was finished. I didn’t mind the secrecy, I had quickly learned how much of a perfectionist he was and would be frustrated with himself if he thought even for a second I didn’t like his new songs if they weren't completely ready— even though I always loved everything he’s written. Perhaps except Papillon.

I hopped off the counter, slugging my way over to the kitchen table full of the calculus mess as Jackson finished his tea. While he quickly washed his mug and left it to dry I tried my best to reorganize my notes, leaving the table somewhat better than the way I had previously left it.

“I am going to take a shower,” Jackson cooed, pressing his large body up against mine, putting his arms around my waist from behind and softly nibbling my earlobe, “And you should join me.”

I set my hands on top of his, interlocking our fingers but ultimately unwrapping his hold on me, “I am way too tired tonight.” I placed a hand on his left cheek, leaning up and giving his right one a quick peck, “But I’ll be in bed.”

Jackson’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips pouting out in disappointment. He sulked behind me as we both made our way into my bedroom, Jackson continuing to the bathroom as I let my body crash onto the mattress in the center of the room. The door of the bathroom closed a little louder than I expected, slightly jolting me. I figured it was nothing, and continued my nightly routine. Loungewear, off. Jackson’s t-shirt, on. I crawled under my dark gray covers, pulling the blanket half way up as I clung onto my pillow and buried my face into it. The soft hum of the shower water running served as the perfect lull as the stress and exhaustion from today slowly faded.

After a few minutes the door finally creaked open, and I turned my head to watch as a slightly damp-haired Jackson silently made his way into the bedroom, sliding on only a clean pair of boxers. Avoiding eye contact with me, he placed the towel on the rack in the bathroom, and walked back out once more, clicking the light off and laying beside me. His back was turned towards me, and not even a simple ‘goodnight’ escaped him.

He was angry.

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

No hate for Papillon HAHAHA I just love how much the rest of the guys clown him for it. Also.... this is definitely a part one! Want to see how many of you like it and want more?! Let me know!