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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

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Decoy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 6.9k

summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.

warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension

Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case

You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.

You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.

All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.

But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.

"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.

“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”

"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"

“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.

“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.

Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.

“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”

"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”

“We can use our own team”

"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"

"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"

"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”

“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.

"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.

Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids.

You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.

“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it.

"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.

"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.

He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.

At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.

The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.

Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.

“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"

"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying”

"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.

You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.

We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.

As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.

Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.

Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.

When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.

"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"

"And meanwhile what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"

“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.

“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"

“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"

“When the suspect approaches, yes”

"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and applying his lips with chapstick.

My God, could that man make you more nervous?

When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"

"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"

“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”

"This is not a play"

"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”

"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.

“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”

“I actually know some good ones”

"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."

"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"

"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?

Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.

“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.

You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.

“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.

“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."

"Why you said so?"

“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.

"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."

“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.

"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"

"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."

You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.

“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."

"I am nervous"

"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"

"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"

"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"

"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"

"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"

"Smooch me?"

"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.

"That's not a picnic, Y/N"

You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.

You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.

"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.

"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.

"Is that our unsub?"

"It is"

You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.

"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.

“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"

"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.

You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?

"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.

You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.

“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.

You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements.

It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.

There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.

The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.

“He started the trailer. He's going to go"

Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.

Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.

"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.

"Take... what?"

"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"

But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you.

He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress his, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit.

His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.

You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.

Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.

As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.

"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.

That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin.

And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between his and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.

Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.

From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.

"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.

"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.

You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.

"How are you?"

"Very good, excellent" you stammered.

You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.

After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.

"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.

“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't you even dare make fun of this"

“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."

"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.

Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.

"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine too"

You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.

"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"

"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?

Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.

"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"

“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”

"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."

“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.

While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.

"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.

“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”

“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."

"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"

“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"

"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"

Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.

“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”

“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."

You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.

"Then I'd love to, Reid."

“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"

“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.

It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.

“Today?”

"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.

“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”

It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.

Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.

"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"

"It did"

"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.

Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.

"Do you want to go after work, then?"

“Sounds good to me”

Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.

So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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plushlikecreaturesgallery · 3 months

Text

so my life is once again in danger

I'm a venezuelan refugee in Spain since 2019. My focus was entirely on escaping and staying in a safe country. When I got here, I got the help of an accountant/manager to start working legally.

He committed fraud in my name without telling me and refused to take responsibility. I was penalized to pay €8600 for his mistake.

I'll add the whole explanation after the read more because you need context to understand what he did.

And now if I can't pay this thing, my residence will be taken away. I will be deported.

I've tried so hard to raise this money. More work, more marketing, preorders, asking for a loan, but nothing has worked.

I have until next month to pay it so I can renew my residence.

All I wanted was to do things right. I thought seeking a professional to handle the legal aspects of my business was the right thing to do. I thought I could finally breathe after being treated like a criminal for years in Venezuela, when all I want is to make my silly little figurines in peace.

I need to take care of my babies (cats) and my parents who are still stuck in Venezuela. I only make enough to live + take care of them, and it's become clear that I can't raise this money by work alone.

So please, any help is appreciated. Reblogs, orders, commissions. I'm so incredibly embarrassed to make this post, but I'm desperate. I don't want to be deported. I don't want to be an illegal alien. I don't want to live in constant fear again.

Here's my Ko-fi link, thank you for reading

https://ko-fi.com/marlikesunicorns/goal?g=0

and this is my shop

There's some context needed to understand what happened, so here it goes.

In Spain, you need to pay a monthly fee of €300 in order to run a business. This goes to the Social Security.

The fee is mandatory, but the government realized it was unfair to charge it from the beginning to a business that's only starting. So they established a reduction of €240 for new entrepreneurs, for 1 year. After that, they'd slowly raise it.

They also gave benefits to people living in certain areas, especially small towns. The fee reduction extended for 6 extra months with this, but only applied as long as you continued to live there for 4 years.

I lived in a small town for 1 year. Then I moved to the closest small city.

But this accountant guy asked for this 6 month extension in my name without my consent.

So then the government demanded I pay the whole €240 for each month ever since I started my business. I went through all the legal processes to ask them to review this thing but it was impossible. They ignored everything. It didn't matter that I only received the benefit for the 1 year that I would've been given anyway for being a new entrepreneur. It didn't matter that I would never be able to afford to pay this in the 15 days they gave me.

If that wasn't enough, I got sick with covid twice, and missed 4 months of work in total, months I got 0 income because they also won't ensure me until I pay the thing. So those fees were also added to the debt + late fees that continue to grow.

Summary: Basically he promised the government I'd live in a small town for 4 years, and when I moved before then (because I had no idea he had done this) they demanded I pay back ALL the benefits they had granted me in the past year.

#posting here as well #might delete later out of embarrassment #signal boost #mutual aid #please help #female artist #artist on tumblr #donations #financial aid #polymer clay #art

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sundrop-writes · 8 months

Text

Meddle About

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

‘Cause it's not just a figure of speech - you got me down on my knees.

It's gettin' harder to b r e a t h e .

Summary:

You hate it when Morgan teases Reid. So when Morgan says that you are Reid's 'Mommy' - you verbally fire back without even thinking about it.

Reid vastly overthinks it.

So much so that he ends up calling you Mommy by mistake. And you definitely don't hate the sound of that word coming off his lips.

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut. Set during Season One.

Word Count: 6,300

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general smut fic - porn with some plot; dom/sub dynamics (but this isn't a pre-discussed dom/sub relationship, the characters just fall into these roles naturally), Spencer is submissive and the reader is dominant; the main theme is Mommy kink - Spencer discovers that he has a Mommy kink after a joke that Morgan makes, referring to the reader character as Spencer's Mommy; Spencer calls the reader 'Mommy' and the reader also refers to herself with that title; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina (and breasts); it could be interpreted that the reader has larger breasts/is plus sized (but I think anyone of any size could enjoy this fic); the reader is part of the BAU; this is meant to take place during season one (baby Spence my beloved) but there are no other major canon events mentioned and the case being discussed is one that I have made up; some very background typical elements of Criminal Minds - murder, killing, systemic vicimization of women/violence from men towards women (passing mention of bodies being consumed by wild animals); the reader and Spencer fuck while on a case (but they aren't endangering anyone's lives from lack of their attention, so it's fine); mentions of potential injuries from a car accident (theoretical - doesn't actually happen during the fic); very slight threads of Morgan x Reader (mentions of Morgan being attracted to the reader - it could be one-sided); very passing mention of Reid having breeding kink (doesn't take place during the fic, just one of his thoughts); for the actual smut section: this could be interpreted as virgin!Spencer but that's not explicitly stated here (at most, this is just inexperienced!Spencer) (the reader is definitely way more sexually experienced than him); praise kink (we all known Spencer is so eager to be praised); mentions of breastfeeding - Morgan makes a joke about the reader breastfeeding Reid, which later turns into faux breastfeeding kink (the reader doesn't actually lactate, but she lets Spencer suck on her tits and calls it breastfeeding); the reader calls Spencer: 'baby', 'good boy',; descriptions of subspace - but it's not specifically called 'subspace' in the text; thigh humping - Spencer humps the reader's thigh; cumming in pants (Spencer); multiple orgasms/overstimulation (Spencer receiving); handjob - the reader jacks Spencer off while he is sensitive after his first orgasm; using lube as cum; dumbification kink - the reader calls Spencer 'dumb baby' and generally enjoys seeing his intellect drop the more turned on he becomes (Spencer also likes being called this); technically the reader doesn't get to cum, but she gets turned on from treating Spencer like the good boy that he is (and this is more about him). I think that's everything.

A/N: This was directly inspired by the scene from Reid's birthday party, where Morgan says 'Mommy to the rescue!' (talking about JJ) and then Spencer says '...Mommy?' and it seems like he is discovering his Mommy kink in real time. Especially because he is then trapped between Elle and JJ and he makes direct eye contact with their boobs, and he just has such a look of scared kink realization in his eyes. I considered copying that moment exactly and just replacing JJ with the reader character, but this seemed like more fun lmao. I had so much fun writing this and I think this is one of my best fics in a while. I hope you guys enjoy it!!

...

Generally, you hated being stuck with grunt work.

You knew that it was all part of the job - an important part of it. Paperwork, side interviews, background checks. Sifting through someone’s apartment looking for aspects of what kind of person they were based on their everyday life.

But you thrived more on being right in the middle of things. You preferred interacting with suspects, chasing people down, harsh confrontation.

Gideon said that you were overly controlling, impatient, brutally honest - that you had an ‘abrasive personality’ that put most men off. But that was why he often brought you into interrogations with male suspects. Many of the people you caught - men with superiority complexes who targeted the weak to make themselves feel powerful - they hated that you weren’t intimidated by them. That aspect of abrasion between you and the suspects often brought out a lot of information - things they spewed out trying to intimidate you.

But you weren’t needed on that front today.

No - instead, you were doing grunt work. The kind of work that made you impatient and generally aggravated.

The only upside was that you got to do it with Spencer.

He was one of the only men that voluntarily worked so closely with you so often, because he wasn’t intimidated by you. He took orders from you very well and naturally fell under your authority, bringing a natural chemistry to your partnership when you worked with him. Plus - his seemingly endless stream of ‘fun facts’ was like listening to the radio, which did help to soothe your boredom during these kinds of mindless tasks.

You were on a case in Texas. Five women raped and tortured before having their bodies hung from a tree and consumed by cotoyes that the UnSub knew lived in the area. Since police had closed in on him, he had gone on the run. He had killed three more women since fleeing, while leaving no clues as to what his ultimate endgame would be or where he would be going next.

Hotch sent you and Reid to find that out while the rest of the team worked victimology and profiled the scenes of the most recent murders, following the trail he was leaving.

After spending hours sifting through the suspect’s house, looking for any small clue about where he might be going - you came up empty. When you touched base with Hotch, he told you that you and Reid would be going to visit the suspect’s ex-wife - who lived four hours away. You needed to interview her to see if she could give you any further insight to the man, and perhaps - beat him to the house if she was the ultimate target.

(A lot of the victims looked like her, and it couldn’t really be a coincidence.)

You knew that lives were at risk, and it was juvenile of you, but all you heard was: long, boring drive. Boring day. You hoped that Reid would be good company through it.

Now, you were waiting outside of the police station in the bureau-issued SUV, waiting for Morgan to come and give you the file with the ex-wife’s address and contact information.

“Did you know that over forty-six percent of Texans own a gun? Texas is second only to Montana in registered gun ownership, where over sixty-six percent of citizens proudly tote their right to bear arms.” Reid told you, continuing to look over the case files that were sitting in his lap.

When you looked over toward him to reply to this odd factoid, your mind got caught up on something else.

“Reid, come on, take your feet off the dashboard!” You told him, reaching over to gently smack his knee, trying to encourage his legs down from the awkward position.

It bothered you for several reasons - the idea that he would leave shoe prints on the dashboard, which was minor and cosmetic, but still annoying. And the fact that if the car did happen to get hit head-on, the air-bag would explode out and push his knees into his chest, causing his shattered leg bones to pierce his organs and possibly kill him. (At the very least, he would never walk again.)

Speaking of which:

“And put your seatbelt on!” You barked, now noticing that he wasn’t wearing it past all of the files he had piled into his lap. “You of all people should know how many deaths are caused by not wearing a seatbelt.”

Spencer opened his mouth to spout out this exact statistic, but before he could get the words out, another voice entered the conversation.

“Aw, Reid, listen to your Mommy.”

You were almost startled by Morgan’s voice coming from the open driver’s side window so suddenly. His appearance there as if out of nowhere was so jarring that you couldn’t get caught up on the way he had called you Reid’s Mommy. Your head whipped toward Morgan so quickly that you didn’t notice the flash across Spencer’s features - worry, dawning. You didn’t take note of the way he rushed to comply with putting on his seatbelt. As if he was rushing to please you, even unconsciously.

“I bet if you’re a good boy, she might even breastfeed you when you get there.”

Morgan then pursed his lips and made loudly suckling noises, clearly imitating breastfeeding in what he thought was a comedic way.

Again - glaring at the muscled man through the open window, you didn’t see Spencer’s reaction. You didn’t see the way his large, glassy eyes flickered to your breasts (only emphasized by your own seatbelt crossed over the center of your chest) before he forced himself to focus on the files in front of him so that he wouldn’t feel so caught.

“Shut up.” You told Morgan, your voice so commanding and firm that his simple order was enough to get him to stop his antics.

“And give me the address already.” You held out your hand expectantly, and Morgan handed you the file, which you placed onto the center console.

Then, you turned back to him for one last point, determined to have the final word in the conversation.

“Besides, we both know that you’re the one who’s got an obsession with my breasts, anyway. Just because you stare while wearing sunglasses, doesn’t mean I don’t notice. My eyes are up here, pal.” You told him sharply.

He let out a scoff at this, and rolled his eyes behind his dark frames - but he made no clever comeback.

You had successfully bested him. And with that knowledge, you rolled up the window and left him standing dumbly in the parking lot as you sped off.

…

You pulled over later to put the address into the GPS system, and you let out a long-winded groan when you found that it was more than four hours away. Four hours and twenty five minutes.

So you pulled over again to get gas and stocked up on snacks, and you were surprised that Reid wasn’t giving you some lesson about the colloquial use of ‘soda’ and ‘pop’ (thinking that you hadn’t listened the other ten times when he had gone on the same rambling point about linguistics and how language evolves).

He was being far too quiet for your liking.

But he was keeping his eyes glued to the files, and you guessed that he was churning over something in that big brain of his, like he usually was.

You were entirely surprised when the next time he spoke - it wasn’t about the case at all.

“How - how do you know that Morgan likes your breasts?” He asked, his voice low and mousy, looking straight ahead as he fidgeted with his hands in his lap.

“What?” You gaped, the word flying out of your mouth as your brain was utterly slow to process what he had just said.

Hearing Spencer use the word ‘breasts’ was jarring, but somehow utterly adorable. You found it stirring a slight heat within you. Especially because he was still so shy. The whole thing made you want to pin him down and force the shyness out of him.

Spencer felt the need to further explain himself.

“When - when you were talking to him, you said: ‘we both know that you’re the one who’s got an obsession with my breasts.’” He said, repeating back what you had said, word for word, using that perfect memory of his.

You wondered if that’s what he had been doing, sitting there in his seat so silently for the past hour of the car ride - going over the conversation again and again in his head, trying to make sense of it. And because he couldn’t make any sense of it by himself, now he was consulting you.

Again, you found it so utterly adorable.

“Morgan didn’t deny it. So - was it a hypothesis based on something, or did you just call him out hoping that you weren’t wrong?” Reid continued, sparing only a singular glance in your direction, a look that you caught out of the corner of your eye with your gaze still mostly focused ahead on the road.

You found it intensely cute that he was using the word ‘hypothesis’ in this situation. You wondered if he ever turned it off - the textbook big words and the intellect that he always carried himself with. You wondered if you could make him turn it off. You wondered if there was any situation where Spencer Reid could be as stupid as any other man - chasing a bone, desperate to get his nut off.

For the first time ever - you imagined Spencer Reid underneath you, blabbering nonsense, begging for release with your hand around his cock as you pumped him, red and aching, so slick in your palm. Desperate, empty-headed, beautifully stupid.

(See, this was what happened when you were forced to do grunt work. You got bored. And when you got bored - you had to entertain yourself somehow.)

“It was a pretty well-informed hypothesis.” You replied. Now that Spencer had brought the topic up, you certainly weren’t going to shy away from the discussion. “Morgan often brings up my sex life, and wants to engage in detailed discussions about my sexual encounters with me. So I assume that he spends a fair amount of time thinking about me in a sexual way.”

Reid let out a choked-off noise at this.

You continued.

“Plus, he’s always staring down my top. He’s not exactly subtle.”

“You - you actually notice that kind of thing?” He chirped, his voice becoming a few octaves higher as worry flooded him.

You bit your lip, suppressing a grin.

Of course, you had noticed the times that Spencer stared at your breasts as well. He was even less subtle about it than Morgan was. You didn’t mind it when he did it, because you knew that Spencer wasn’t exactly casanova. He didn’t have a different girl every other week like Morgan did, so taking a glance down your shirt when he passed you a morning coffee was probably about as much action as he got.

Secretly, letting him get away with it was your gift to him.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” You told him, the pet name slipping out mindlessly as you reached over and gently patted his knee as a form of reassurance.

This movement unintentionally drew his eyes toward your chest, especially in his desperation to look anywhere but your face, not wanting to make eye contact with you. But he found his eyes glued to the swell of your breasts once again - hating how perfect they looked, even through the simple cotton shirt and plain bra that you wore.

“Sorry, Mommy.” The word slipped out before he could even consciously process it. “Sorry!”

Spencer raised a hand to smack his own face at lightning speed, and slumped down into his seat in embarrassment.

You bit your lip to suppress a grin. It stirred a filthy heat in your belly. But you knew that Spencer likely needed a while to sit with this and wouldn’t want to talk about it - not yet. So you reached over and turned on the radio, letting the music fill the space so that the silence wasn’t so awkward and gutting.

…

Spencer didn’t talk for the entirety of the rest of the car ride, which didn’t surprise you.

When you finally arrived at the ex-wife’s house, his hands were shaking with nerves as he tried to unlatch his seatbelt. You probably should have just left him alone to struggle, but an evil spark, likely fueled by the boredom of the day, flared up inside of you. You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over the console, very purposefully showing off your breasts as you gently pushed his hands away and undid the belt for him.

“Here, let Mommy get that for you.” You said, distinct teasing on your breath as you mumbled the words into his ear.

Spencer huffed out a deep sigh and collapsed back into his seat, and pushed his hair out of his face in frustration. But he didn’t say anything more as you gathered the files in preparation for the interview.

He only spoke when you moved to get out of the car.

“Look, I-” He began a half assed explanation, and you easily cut him off.

“You let Morgan get in your head too much.” You told him with a chuckle, opening your door and getting out.

But as he forced himself to follow you with numb limbs - he knew that this definitely wasn’t all Morgan’s fault.

…

The ex-wife didn’t know much.

She described the marriage as hell - the suspect exhibited all the typical behaviors as a husband that they would have expected. He hated women, and he wanted full control over his wife at the time, which eventually led down the path of divorce. They had to sell the house they had bought together, but neither of them had moved out of Texas since. But he hadn’t contacted her in years.

She had two young kids from a new relationship, and when the woman stepped out to take a call, you picked one of them up to soothe his cries, hushing him gently while you rubbed his back.

Because of this, Spencer found himself even more dizzy and confused.

He knew that it was Frueadian - some deep, misguided part of his psychology - something broken and missing inside of him because of his own fractured childhood.

But seeing you being so sweet with a kid, especially after the day he’d had - he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be your baby, or if he wanted to shoot his cum so deep inside you that it would ensure he could give you one.

(Ultimately, he knew that it was likely both - and that didn’t answer any questions for him. It just gave him far more questions.)

…

Even though the ex-wife couldn’t give you guys much more than you already knew, Hotch wanted you and Spencer to stay close by in case the suspect decided to make his ex-wife the end game. The two of you would be able to make it to her first if she called for help.

So you and Spencer had dinner at a random local barbeque place off the highway and Spencer still didn’t talk much through it, other than posing some theories about the case. Even though he was a bit more talkative, he still refused to look at you - he stared down at his plate the whole time. Though whenever he did look up, you noticed that his eyes lingered on your chest - and he still wouldn’t look you in the eye.

By the time the bill came around and the two of you were ready to leave, you knew exactly what you had to do.

…

Spencer waited by the car with his bag while you checked in and got a motel room (needing to stay in town, you got a room for the night). When you came back, you handed him the room key and then moved to get your bag out of the car.

“Do… you already have yours?” He asked quietly.

“Hmm?” You hummed in reply, slinging the strap of your go-bag over your shoulder before you closed the back door and used the remote to lock up the car.

“Your room key?”

You suppressed another grin.

“I only got one room.” You told him. “You don’t mind sharing with me, right?”

You gave him a purposeful look - looked at him through your lashes, bit your lip slightly, and subtly squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, emphasizing them. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, but hopefully it seemed subtle.

“I - uh - no.” Spencer stuttered. “It’s fine. We can share.” He gave a grin, not wanting to appear upset, even though his entire body was racked with nerves.

Spencer followed you to the room and he fumbled with the key with shaking hands for a moment before he sighed and then handed it to you.

His insides quaked when he saw that there was only one bed.

He wasn’t sure if he should say anything about it. The two of you had slept in the same room before, but you had never shared a bed before. Sure, you had slept near each other before. He had accidentally fallen asleep on your shoulder on the plane or vice versa. But you had never crawled into bed together with the intention of sleeping together.

And yes, just the entendre behind it made Reid’s head spin.

He had a heavy knot in his gut, and hatefully - a distinct stirring in his crotch. He could only imagine how embarrassing it would be for you to wake up and see him compromised in some way. Or god forbid, if you caught him moaning in his sleep because of unconscious dreams that he couldn’t stop - for you to think that he was some kind of dirty sex pervert because of it.

He felt an overwhelming need to clear the air overtake him. He had no clue how to broach the subject, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to spend the night like this. He wouldn’t be able to sleep with this anxiety hanging over his head.

He studied you carefully as you sat down on the edge of the bed, ditching your bag off to the side and heaving out a tired sigh as you began taking off your shoes.

Spencer put down his own bag and then stood there, fidgeting nervously as he searched for words.

“I - uh - I am sorry about earlier.” He mumbled out the beginnings of an apology. “What Morgan said was stupid, and I-”

“I don’t think it was stupid.”

You let out a chuckle, and reached up the back of your shirt. Spencer found himself frozen, his eyes tracing your every moment as you unhooked your bra underneath your shirt and then moved to maneuver the straps out from your short sleeves while you kept talking.

“I think he had a point.” You added on. “Good boys should get a reward. And I think you were fairly good today. You didn’t eat all your veggies at dinner, but you kept your feet off the dashboard and you were quiet during the car ride. You definitely get points for being patient during such a long trip, baby.”

Your voice smoothed into a soothing tone, that word - baby - melting like butter over your tongue in a way that made Spencer’s knees wobble. He hadn’t known it until right now, but you calling him a ‘good boy’ and listing off such mundane things he had done that made him worthy of a reward fired off sparks inside of his brain.

A breath choked off inside of his throat as you stood up off the bed and peeled your bra completely out from under your shirt. Somehow it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen, revealing the hard peaks of your nipples and the beautiful natural teardrop shape of your breasts to him through the cotton fabric.

Spencer wanted to speak, but his tongue felt so heavy and dry inside of his mouth. He knew that he was staring at your chest so blatantly now, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away. He couldn’t even feel ashamed anymore.

That dull tingle in his crotch had turned into a full on stinging interest, and he unconsciously pulled at the fabric of his pants, trying to loosen some of the tension that was growing, not even considering how it might look to you - him dumbly reaching for his crotch to make it look looser when his hardening bulge was becoming more obvious by the second.

It was one of the most ‘caveman’ things he had ever done in front of you - standing there with his mouth hanging slightly agape, pulling at his crotch without caring how it looked. You definitely wanted more, wanted to see how dumb he could get. How far you could make him devolve.

“So what do you say, baby boy?” You hummed, stepping close into his personal space now, causing him to get a whiff of your perfume - something that was only a dull trace after such a long day, but still smelled so good. “Do you want Mommy to breastfeed you? Do you wanna suck on my tits as your reward?”

You gently ran a thumb across his cheek, and paired with the words, Spencer’s brain short-circuited.

He knew realistically that you weren’t actually offering to breastfeed him. There was no evidence in your life to say that your body could actually support the production of milk currently - but you were offering to let him play pretend. To suck on your tits with a very sexual air, to call you Mommy without the teasing humiliation behind it that Morgan had hinted at (or maybe Spencer liked that humiliation, he wasn’t even sure). (He hadn’t even known before this morning that he liked the idea of calling you Mommy, but here he was).

All he could conjure in response was the dumbest, non-human sound.

“Nngh.”

It was a grunt from the back of his throat - too much blood swelling to his cock all at once and too much direct attention from you making him dizzy.

You giggled quietly.

“Come on, baby. Just say the word. And Mommy will give you everything you need.”

Spencer inhaled sharply. At this point, he was desperate to get some oxygen to his brain.

His mind was racing, chanting out:

‘Yes! God, yes! I want it so badly, Mommy! I want anything you’ll give me. I need you. I need you so badly.’

But all his lips could form in the wake of such dizzying lust was:

“Please.”

“Good boy.” You sighed.

You used a hand on his chin to tilt his face up to meet yours, and you consumed him in a kiss - he was hungry and eager to meet your touch, moaning loudly into your mouth, his hands racing to touch you now, rushing up to grip on your hips in the most utterly needy way. He balled the fabric of your shirt in his fists, like he couldn’t get enough of you - like he was afraid you would dissolve away if he let go of you for even a second.

It was cute, to say the least.

You only let the kiss last for a moment, though. You pulled away to a disappointed whine from Spencer, which you quietly hushed.

“Hey, it’s okay baby.” You soothed him. “Come here. Mommy’s gonna take good care of you.”

You lead him toward the bed, getting rid of his tie in the process, and Spencer stepped out of his shoes along the way. You slid onto the bed and laid up on the pillows on your back, Spencer clumsily following you, crawling on all fours. The two of you had barely started, but he was full-on panting now, racing to catch his breath while his blood hammered through his veins.

He watched on with eager curiosity while you got comfortable, fluffing the pillow under your head before you then reached down and pulled up your shirt. You pulled the fabric to sit up under your chin, finally revealing your gorgeous breasts to him.

If he was lost for words before, then he had receded back to a total neanderthal now.

His mouth fell open and his salivary glands started working overtime as his eyes raked hungrily over your chest - enjoying the pure beauty of the fatty mounds, striped with zig-zagging stretch marks and completed by your hard peaked nipples.

“Here, come on, baby.”

You had to remind Spencer what the goal was, guiding him into place with a hand on the back of his head. You helped ease his body to lay on top of yours as he relaxed into you - and his mouth finally found its rightful place on your breast. He became greedy, suctioning hard on your nipple as though he might actually get something out of it.

Truthfully, he did get something out of this.

It definitely wasn’t any form of nutrition, but it was something that drove him lustfully insane and made his head fuzzy and warm in the best way. This was the only time in his entire life that he didn’t have ten thousand thoughts running through his mind like the news blasting on television in the background. This was the only time since his first conscious memory that he had actually known his mind to be quiet.

He felt intensely thankful for it. Intensely thankful toward you for giving him this feeling.

In that moment, without all the noise, all he knew was the comforting feeling of your fat tit under his mouth, the heat of your body under his own as you cradled him. The soothing firmness of your hands through his hair and down his back - and the distant, sweet purring of your voice in his ears.

“Good boy.” You hummed, loving the feeling of him moaning around your nipple - so constant and so greedy now that you were sure he didn’t even know that he was doing it. “Such a good boy for me. Such a good boy for Mommy.”

Your cunt was humming between your thighs, aching so hard at seeing Spencer like this. The usually composed, intelligent, practically robotic Doctor Reid reduced down to a blubbering, moaning, needy mess just because he wanted to suck on your tits.

Just because you had called yourself Mommy a few times in his presence.

It was so utterly beautiful, and you wanted more.

(You didn’t think that you could ever let him go after this. You probably wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of another woman touching him after this. But you would have to think on that more later.)

You noticed Spencer canting his hips, unconsciously seeking friction against his hard cock while he continued to suck on your breast. With his eyes closed blissfully, drool gathering around his lips where they met your skin in the most utterly adorable way. You couldn’t help yourself - you scooted your knee between his thighs. You then used a hand to help his hips into place, adjusting him so that he was getting good friction against your denim-clad thigh.

“There you go. There you go, sweet boy.” You hummed, feeling another jolt through your body when he let out a sharper moan against your tit, and began humping your leg in earnest.

You were quick to encourage him, putting both hands on his hips and helping him along while he greedily hung onto you. He had on your hip, the other hand slipping up to cup fingers around the bottom of your breast, making sure you didn’t escape him while he moved his body against you so frantically.

“That’s just what you needed, isn’t it, baby?” You moaned out, your voice wavering slightly as the pleasure of it all thrummed through you. “Just a dumb little baby who needed Mommy’s tit.”

The term ‘dumb little baby’ came flying out of your mouth before you could stop it. Though you knew exactly why it happened. Seeing such a brilliant genius reduced down to this truly did something to your ego. And apparently hearing those words from you did something to him, too.

He whined sharply against your skin and his hips stuttered abruptly. You knew it wouldn’t be long before he came in his pants, his cock throbbing against the friction of your thigh. And this thought alone caused your mouth to run off without restraint.

“Such a needy little thing.” You sighed. “You love being Mommy’s dumb baby, don’t you? Not a single fucking thought between your ears, just sucking on Mommy’s tit without a care in the world.”

Spencer moaned and it sent another jolt through your body - another harsh pang through your cunt. You loved how much he needed you. You loved how much he was clearly eating this up.

You didn’t even care if you got to cum tonight; you just wanted to exhaust him for all he was worth. Because he was so fucking pretty like this.

“You gonna cum for me, baby boy? You gonna cum for Mommy? Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

These words were what ultimately sent him over the edge. Well that along with your strong hands on his hips, encouraging him along while he was mindless and busy mouthing on your breast.

His jaw dropped open, finally loosening that desperate suction on your now slightly sore nipple as he began to pant frantically over your now spit-soaked skin. He moaned hotly while he humped you in an entirely adorable, almost distraught manner - absolutely desperate to have the most friction on his cock while his orgasm overtook him.

You could feel his needy cock throbbing against you, trapped inside of his pants, shooting off hot ropes of cum that quickly soaked into his underwear and even then, seeped into the fabric of his slacks. You grinned and bit your lip as you felt that wetness even beginning to soak into your jeans, knowing he must have set off quite a big load.

Spencer soon collapsed on top of you, gulping in air as he tried to catch his breath.

Any normal person would have taken pity on him (seeing as he was clearly nervous and inexperienced) and wound things down to end the night here. Anyone else would have likely let him rest.

But again, you felt devilish temptation overtake you. (It was a feeling that seemed to be much more ripe around Spencer Reid.)

You just felt thankful that your temptation and inclination toward chaos came in the form of lust, rather than something more violent, like the people you studied every single day. Everyone around you should be thankful for that.

You used your leverage (and the fact that you weren’t nearly as exhausted from the experience) to flip him over onto his back. He let out a surprised sound as his back made contact with the mattress - blinking up at you with shocked, glassy eyes as you moved down his body slightly.

“Wha-?” He mumbled out the question, only getting out part of the word before you reached for the zipper on the front of his now wet pants.

“Hey, shh, baby. I just wanna see you.” You told him quietly, causing him to stare down the length of his own body at your hands as you worked.

You got the button and zipper undone quickly and you let out a quiet ‘fuck’ as you peeled back the wet fabric of his grey slacks to reveal the sight of his simplistic (very Reid) white cotton underwear slightly transparent and stuck tight to his cock, coated in wet, sticky cum.

“So pretty baby.”

He only whined in response.

You couldn’t help yourself - you reached up and pulled down the waistband of his underwear, feeling more lust pricking through you as he was truly revealed to your eyes. He was perfect. Glossy and wet with his own release, his cock pinky red from the exertion and friction, still half hard. You pulled the clothes down over his hips and he lifted his body to help you, clearly glad to be rid of the mess, and the second you untangled the fabric from his ankles and ditched everything aside, you were back on him.

You skimmed the tips of your fingers oh-so-lightly up his shaft where it was sprawled across his pelvis, and his hips jolted. He let out a bitter gasp - as though cold water had been splashed across him.

“You said-” He choked on the words as you ran your thumb right underneath the crown, gently pressing into the head, causing him to choke on a moan while his knees quaked.

You sat on his knees to keep him still and his head became so fuzzy once again.

‘You said that you only wanted to look.’

The sentence died off in his lungs somewhere, and truthfully - he didn’t want to protest. He didn’t want you to stop.

“Sens-sensitive.” He whined. “Too much.”

“But you’re so pretty, baby.” You replied, your voice turning smooth and warm like butter again, melting over his whole body, causing all of his muscles to go soft and pliant for you. “Your cock is so pretty. I need to touch you.”

He let out another strangled noise when you cupped your hand and took him fully in your grip this time, giving one good tug across his cock from root to tip. When you did this again, faster this time, his lungs seized inside his chest - trying to take in oxygen so quickly, as though he were drowning on dry land.

“You gonna be good for me, baby?”

“Yes.” He gargled back in response. “Yes, Mommy.”

He was already so wet from cumming in his pants, and he let out a pathetic dribble of precum as you continued to move your hand - so it was an easy, slick slide. One that sent harsh shockwaves through him from overstimulation. Against his own will, he soon ballooned back to full hardness - becoming painfully swollen in your hand while you sped up your touch and closed your fist tighter around him. It caused the most wonderful hurt between his legs, and made a downright filthy wet sound as you pumped your grip faster along his needy cock.

Spencer heard wailing and felt the soreness against his throat before he realized that he was the one making those desperate sounds. He distantly wondered what it might sound like to someone else, if the rooms on either side were occupied, if the motel would receive a noise complaint about some frail woman getting fucked to death by her husband next door - because that’s what he sounded like in his own ears.

But any of those half-thoughts were chased out of his brain the second you flicked your thumb up over the head of his cock and your dirty mouth filled his ears once again.

“Gonna milk this pretty cock, baby.” You told him, your voice firm. “You gonna show Mommy how much you can cum for me? Gonna show me what a good boy you are?”

Spencer let out another pathetic sound, his body singing with pleasure at his pure need to prove to you that - yes, he was a good boy.

He felt tears wet on the side of his face before he realized that he was crying, but it was all too good to ask you to stop.

You used your other hand to cradle his balls and you swooped down to capture his gasping mouth in another kiss (a very messy, open mouthed kiss that Spencer could barely pay attention to). Spencer screamed into your mouth while he painted his stomach with cum once again.

You only stopped jerking his cock once you had truly milked every last drop from him, his hips seizing up off the bed and your hand almost slipping off him completely from how sloppily wet it was with more of his cum added to the mix.

He was purely exhausted then. His eyes blinked heavily, struggling to stay open. He vaguely remembered you cleaning him off and tucking him into bed - but he definitely enjoyed falling asleep curled up next to your warmth.

…

The next morning, Spencer felt hungover.

He wondered if that’s what good sex always felt like - the combination of endorphins rushing through your body and physical exertion tackling you over. His legs were sore, as though he had run several miles. (Which wasn’t even something he could make a bold comparison to anyway, because he didn’t exercise nearly as much as he should for someone with this job). He woke up starving, grateful when you drove to a diner down the road after checking out of the motel and planted him in one of the booths before going outside to call Hotch in order to touch base with the rest of the team.

You came back with a small grin on your face.

“Turns out that tip the ex-wife gave us about their first house in Arlington was pretty solid.” You told Reid. “They caught the guy on his way there. He had another girl in the trunk. They got her back mostly unarmed, and took him into custody.”

Spencer nodded. “That’s good.”

When he moved to grab another sugar packet out of the caddy on the side of the table, three of them already open and empty beside his cup of coffee, you grabbed him by the wrist.

“That’s enough, baby.” You told him.

His stomach curled, that distinct feeling running through him again. And against his will, that word slipped out - again.

“Yes, Mommy.”

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot. There won't be a sequel or a continuation, so please do not ask for one. If you liked the fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written, or consider reblogging to show your appreciation. If you want to see more Spencer Reid fics that I have written, you can check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist, or you can check out my Masterlists for other fandoms to see if anything catches your eye. Thank you for reading!

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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pirateprincessblog · 4 months

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the other man

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: READ PART ONE HERE, also not completely proofread because i've been so tired and bloated these days i have no energy :( feel free to message me about mistakes!

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: after finding out you were used by your brother to get rid of someone he simply didn't like, you go on a break. every time you see that place or the man, you get reminded of another one who hugged your legs while on his knees, before he was dragged to his downfall. just why can't you escape it, no matter how hard you try? 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: song mingi x f!reader, ft yunho 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: prison theme, criminal!mingi, prisoner!mingi, doctor!reader, evilbrother!yunho 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: semi public oral (f!receiving)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gore, v*olence, swearing, stalking, m*rder

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"no! no, god, no! please!"

"get off me."

"please, please! yunho, please!"

"get" smack "the fuck" smack "off me!" smack.

you fall on the floor, knees hurting from being dragged across the floor all the way to his office, and cheeks red from all the hitting. you don't let go of his shirt yet, the fabric securely scrunched between your fingers.

"i'll do anything," you wipe your tears with your elbow, "anything!"

"anything?" he raises an eyebrow, lowering his hand that was about to land on you one more time.

a glint of hope appears in your eyes, and you straighten your posture. still on your knees, you put your palms together, ready to beg more. "yes, anything."

yunho is silent for a few moment, looking at you with an unreadable expression. and it kills you, that he can mask emotions so well. he crouches, getting down to your level. he cups your jaw in his big hand, and you suddenly feel shivers running down your spine.

"come with me."

his gentle touch turns into a painful one, his hand moving from your face to your hair in a split second. he drags you across the hallway, into the elevator, and throws you against the mirror wall. you barely have time to reach for the little pole to hold onto, he grabs you by your shoulders and lifts you so that you stand up.

"listen to me."

"please-"

"listen to me!" he grabs your face again, fingers digging into your cheeks and making your lips purse. "you act like a whore, you'll get treated like one. hell, i'll let everyone have their way with you, if that's what you want. but do not interfere with my work. never, ever again."

"but i-"

"have i made myself fucking clear?!"

"yes, yes!"

he finally loosens his grip, making your body slide down the wall and find peace on the floor. he punches the floor number, then leans on the elevator door. you look up at him, disgust and resentment painting your face. you hope the doors open and he falls head first on something sharp.

"don't look at me like that. this isn't my fault."

if only you could say something back, but fear has swallowed you whole. so you stay there, resorting in only sending him glares.

"frankly, it's not mingi's fault either."

"don't say his name, you don't get to-"

"it's your fault."

"it's not."

"oh, but it is. see, i warned you, little sissy. but you just don't know how to listen."

the doors open, luckily for him. you stand up, following him down a poorly lit hallway. you pass multiple metal doors, with a small window on top of each. until you stop by one right at the end. you gasp, then scream, along with the person inside. it echoes through the hallway, bouncing off the walls and torturing you.

"no, no!" you scream, trying to turn around. but yunho holds you still in front of the window, making you watch as mingi gets sat on a chair you thought you'd never see in real life. "god, please, please!"

"i said i'd make you watch."

"mr jeong!"

"watch."

"mr jeong!"

the voice gets closer, and mingi has more belts holding him with each second that passes. one of the guards stands aside, waiting for the final belt to be secured across his chest, before putting a metal electrode cap on his head.

"mr jeong!"

"what, what, what?!" he yells, letting go of you and turning towards the young guard running towards him. "do you wish to fucking join him?! how dare you interrupt-"

"inspection, mr jeong."

yunho takes a step back, breath halting for a moment. your fingers hopelessly scratch at the tiny window, eyes burning with tears as you watch the strapped man stop struggling and accept his fate. he doesn't look at you, but you know he hears you. he grimaces at your wails, avoids your gaze, and silently cries.

"fuck! go back to your position, tell barnes to start protocol b."

"what about protocol a?"

"are they in the building already?"

"yes...?"

"then, it's too late for that. protocol b starts now. block the doors as soon as the execution is done, and get rid of the evidence through the gate f." yunho then grabs you by your elbow, throwing you into the guard. "take her to elijah, let him escort her to my house. no witnesses."

the young guard nods, then guides you away from the doors. yunho opens the door, for a split second letting mingi's pained moans and wails escape the room of torture. it shatters your heart, weakens your knees, and makes you want to vomit right there. the ground sways under your feet as you try to reach the exit, the sign section Z being the last thing you see before collapsing.

when you open your eyes again, it feels like your lungs are on fire. you have been crying in your sleep, dried lines on your cheeks being proof of that. you remember waking up for a few seconds, elijah making you drink a sip of water before helping you into your bed again.

now, it is almost four in the afternoon, and you feel as if you dreamt the whole thing. but when you see elijah's note on the nightstand, you are reminded of the grey reality. the note states that yunho has ordered you lunch, and that it is in the fridge. barefoot, still in yesterday's clothes, you walk downstairs to the kitchen. you open the fridge, finding a plate of steak with grilled asparagus and mashed potatoes, along with a little bottle of orange juice. how kind of him to order you his favorite meal.

you scrunch the paper in your hand, anger making your vision red. you take the plate out, then set it on the kitchen counter. as you cut into it, you realize it is rare, blood dripping from it and soaking the mashed potatoes. it is like irony, red staining the yellow just like mingi's blood stained your dress in the cafeteria. is it some sort of a cruel joke coming from yunho? did he want you to feel sick and not eat? you slam the knife into the steak multiple times, ruining it and sending red drops of liquid everywhere. you slam your fist into the mashed potatoes, then take the asparagus and throw them at the white wall. the juice bottle shares the same fate, the knife piercing through it and letting the yellow juice drip on the marble tiles.

before you know it, the kitchen is coated in the sticky liquid, walls are poked with whatever your hand could grab, and the living room became the new victim. the recently bought leather couches were ripped open, cozy cushions no longer cozy, but only balls of cotton and feathers, and the glass coffee table was only a skeleton now, the glass shattered and digging into the rug.

you sit in the middle of it, pieces of collectible vases, statues and painting surrounding you. the sight is an invitation for yunho to strangle you right then and there. but you don't give him a chance. you gather clothes into your backpack, hygienic things and his spare wallet, then take his most favorite car out of five of them. you don't leave before keying the other four, despite the weird glances your neighbors throw you. you only smile at them, then nod your head as a greeting. they must think you are crazy. you can't wait until they tell yunho on you.

you have found peace in a cozy little hotel in a town nearby. you don't use his cards, in case he tries to track them down. he has enough cash to keep you there for at least a year. besides, you're already looking for a new job. working in a coffee shop seems promising. the fact that you know nothing but an espresso and hot chocolate doesn't seem to bother the manager. your eagerness to learn is enough for her to consider you a candidate.

if yunho has tried reaching out to you, you don't know. you got rid of your old phone, immediately upgrading to the newest one, with a fresh number. you didn't try finding out about him either. you don't care. you only hope elijah didn't get punished for your actions. after all, he only brought you home.

the hotel room is a bit cozier now that you've added your little decorations. from fake vines and fairy lights you bought from the dollar store, to expensive books and posters you got from the bookstore down the street. it is only temporary, until you decide exactly what you wish to do with your life. you've lived in yunho's shadow, having him decide for you and write out your future without asking you. and you never questioned it, really. did you dislike it at times? yes, you did. did you dare say anything? no, hell no. now that you have freedom, you are lost. yunho was always the one guiding you, and now you were alone.

"you're hired!" you hear the very next day, as you sit drenched in nervous sweat.

you breathe out, relief washing over your body. finally, a start. the first paycheck has you almost crying. people really live like this? the second one isn't a complete shock like the first one, but it could be better. by the third one, you have already accepted that you cannot live lavishly anymore. so you stop visiting the bookstore, stop buying pastries after your shift, and start cooking yourself. you didn't know it would be this hard. but it is too late to back down now. there is no way you're going back to yunho, not if you want to live.

"hey, can you help me out? it's like everyone made a decision to sit in my section today!"

your coworker is drowning in tickets, loose strands of hair falling out of her once perfect bun, and her apron is already smudged. you nod, hurriedly running over to the tables that have just sat down, again, in her section. your section is quiet, mainly because the sun is hitting it and it is way too hot to sit there.

three tables are done, and you have only one left. the man sits alone, typing something on his laptop. hopefully he didn't notice how long he had to wait. you finally approach it, eyes not leaving your notepad. "i am so sorry for the wait, we didn't expect the rush so early."

"no worries, i understand."

time stops around you, only the two of you stuck in a bubble. your fingers hold the notepad, losing colour in the tips from how hard you're gripping it. you gulp, audibly, before lowering the pad and locking eyes with brown ones. you almost run, seeing the bone chilling smile on his face.

"yunho." you gasp, fear swallowing you whole.

"iced americano, please."

you clear you throat, and finally write it down. "right. anything else?"

"no, that would be all." he goes back to typing on his laptop.

you are scared to pass by him, but remember that you are in a crowded space. he wouldn't do anything here, would he?

"oh, right."

"y-yes?" you turn around.

"a pistachio doughnut to go."

"right away."

shakily, you prepare the order. even the manager gives you a side eye, not used to that behaviour. but she doesn't say anything, assuming that you are just tired since it's almost the end of your morning shift.

"hey, could you please give this to table-"

"oh my god, i'm so sorry, but i can't. i have like four tables waiting for me, and i still haven't brought out that cookie for table six."

worth a try. you approach the table in the corner, trying to sneak a glance at the laptop screen. but yunho slams it just in time, depriving you of nosiness. you set the cup on the table, along with the paper bag with the doughnut in it.

"thank you." he says, handing you a big bill. "keep the change."

"uh, this is too much-"

"it's fine. you look like you need it."

with that, he sends you another smile and stands up, and if you didn't know him, you'd think it's genuine. but you know it's dripping with venom, and if you were alone with him somewhere, he would snatch you in a split second and have you in that very chair you keep having nightmares about.

"have a good day, miss...?"

"edwards."

"right, miss edwards."

you watch in terror as he exits the shop, not sparing you another glance. fifteen minutes ago, you just couldn't wait for the end of your shift. now? you're dreading it. up until the moment you hang the apron in your locker and gather your things, your hands don't stop shaking. not even when you exit the shop, head frantically turning in search of two brown eyes. walking to the hotel, you have time to think. he hasn't changed much, except a healed scar line near his eye. you wonder what happened. you wonder if the inspection managed to find anything. you hope they did. in revenge for mingi.

"good day, miss edwards." the receptionist greets, a smile always on her face.

"good day, rita."

"ah, that visitor of yours is so cute. is he single?"

you turn abruptly, head almost turning like an owl. "what visitor?"

"oh, the cute one! brown hair, brown eyes, very tall? he was so nice to me, even gave me a tip."

your legs have never been faster, bringing you into your room in under a minute. you barge in, like you were expecting to find your partner with a lover. you drop your work bag on the floor, approaching the unmade bed that you distinctly remember making. there is muddy footsteps all over the floor, and a familiar paper bag on the nightstand. you leave the door open, just in case, before approaching the bed. you take the paper bag in your shaky hands, eyes skimming over the written note on it.

for miss edwards, from her dear brother. miss you. x

the door slams shut, and you jump. the bag drops on the floor, and you squeal, turning around. but nobody is in the room. once you make sure you really are alone, you open the bag. you find the very doughnut you packed. you plop on the bed, scanning the food. it does look like originally packed one, so you bite into it, thinking about your next move. you can't stay here, now that he knows where you are. just how did he find you, anyway?

you take another bite, but this time your teeth stumble upon something hard. you let go after struggling, realizing it is not bits of pistachios, but something more dense. your eyes drop on the pastry, and when you can't decipher what it is, you pull it out, only to throw it on the floor with a scream. it is a chopped off finger, the small fix on tattoo on it very familiar to you. you gasp, hand flying to your mouth to stop a sob from escaping. how cruel, sick and twisted does someone's brain have to be to think of and pull something like this?

not even a week after the incident, you receive a call from your work that a costumer keeps leaving tips for you even when you're not here. the description fits yunho, but you haven't seen him at all. he knows that his name alone is enough to terrify you. this is worse than what you initially thought he'd do if he found you. it is slow torture, and you can't escape it.

you ask for a break, knowing damn well that you are safer there than you are in the hotel. but you keep messing up people's orders, spilling their drinks, and there's always missing cash from the register. your manager almost squealed with joy when you asked her for a few days off. you use the time to start thinking about alternatives. do you move towns again? do you go back to him? do you call police?

all three seem stupid and useless. for now, you'll focus on eating healthy and having some self care days. one thing is clear, if jeong yunho has made it his goal to harm you, he will do it; one way or another. he might be delaying it, toying with the prey before killing it.

you don't go back to work for another week, desperately searching for a way out. but you are bombed with random flowers, presents, and similar things waiting for you when you come back from your daily run. it has become a habit, for you to enter the room and immediately toss the unwanted gift into the hallway. you keep the severed finger in a tissue on the nightstand, each night patting it sleepily and saying good night in your head. crazy, but it is the only part of him you have left. and it makes you feel a little more at ease now that you know he is resting, not in pain. and at least you get to have proper sleep, since yunho never seems to disturb you during the night.

but universe loves to prove you wrong, because you get awoken by the door opening. you sit up straight, still halfway asleep. the person in your room halts, flowers secure in their hand and a hood over their head. you barely have time to react, because the person is quick to put a hand over your mouth. you don't see the face, from the dark and the hood, but you recognize that touch and smell anywhere.

"hush, doctor."

tears roll down your cheeks, horror and relief fighting for dominance in your body. you feel four fingers over your lips, the pinky missing. the very pinky you have in the tissue, now drained of colour.

"it's just me," he whispers, taking the hood off with his free hand. he still holds the flowers, not letting go yet.

you are overwhelmed by emotions. from relief, to fear, to sadness. you jump into his arms, without thinking. but there isn't much to think about. you only need to look into his eyes, to know that you are safe.

"mingi," you finally exhale, head buried into his neck.

"my doctor," he coos, hand rubbing your back as you cry into his hoodie, "my pretty little doctor."

now, you are confused. if mingi is holding the flowers, does it mean he was the one entering the room and leaving you presents? what about the doughnut and the finger? did they run into each other? do they work together now? what if there is a bigger story behind all of this?

"i can hear you thinking, doll."

"i'm sorry, i just-" you sob mid sentence, "i just don't know-" hiccup, "what's going on?"

"come on, lay down with me."

mingi sets the flowers right next to the scrunched tissue, then lays down and opens his arms for you. hesitantly, you lay on his chest, allowing him to wrap his warm arms around your shivering body.

"it is too much for you to handle, i know. you saw me on my death chair, and now i'm here. how about we go to sleep, and i'll tell you all in the morning?"

"no, i can't."

mingi nods, understandingly. "then, i better get to explaining.

when you fainted, yunho was called over, and it was too late for the execution. apparently, they never do it without him. sick bastard likes to watch. so, once again, i was saved by you, unknowingly."

you scoff through tears, hitting his chest gently. "right."

"i managed to fight them off and escape, and yunho had no time to deal with me because he had the inspection at his throat. he found me a little later, tried to kill me, but i managed to flee again. i cut him pretty bad, don't know if you've noticed. i was pretty proud of myself for that."

"near the eye?"

"bingo. glad to know that he has a reminder of me on his stupid face now. just like i have one." he looks down on his injured hand.

"were you the one leaving the presents for me all this time?"

"all this time? how long are we talking?"

"weeks."

mingi stills underneath you. so it isn't him. you let out a shaky breath, trying to stay sane.

"yunho found me."

"oh."

"he gave me your finger."

"he what?!" he sits up straight, visibly distraught. "he fucking what?!"

silently, you reach for the tissue, handing it to him. he takes one glance at it, then at his hand. his expression is unreadable, something between hatred and disappointment. you've never seen him like that.

"he has been terrorizing me since he found me, leaving me creepy presents and stalking me. i don't know what to do."

the man sighs, also thinking. "we could run away."

"where?"

"anywhere. just you and i. to start fresh."

"but you're an escaped convict."

you regret saying that, seeing a hurtful expression on his face. "i was wrongfully imprisoned."

are you finally getting his story from a first hand source? is this the right time to be excited about it? "why? didn't you kill your sister's boyfriend?"

"he deserved it. he was hitting and raping her."

"you aren't the one to decide who gets to live or die."

"and your brother is?"

you move away from him, jaw dropped. "he is not my brother, and you know that."

"you know what? you're the same as him. only using people when you see benefit in them." he spits, getting up from the bed and taking the flowers back.

"how dare you?!"

"watch your tone." his voice is no longer warm and cozy, but cold and stern. he looks at you with ice cold eyes, his posture different. "do not yell at me again, i am warning you now."

"what the hell is wrong with you? it's like you're an entirely different man-"

"i am. i am a free man. away from wrongful convictions, away from the abuse. i am a different, better man."

he steps closer to you, causing you to step back. your back hits the door, hand desperately searching for the door knob. he stops in front of you, mere inches away.

"but you don't want that, do you? you want the vulnerable mingi, the mingi that kneels in front of you and begs for your affection. guess what? things are different now."

this is what yunho was warning you about. and you see it just now. mingi is a criminal. a prisoner. an escaped one now. oh, how you would love for yunho to barge in and save you. but you fucked it up. you had it good, and you didn't even know it.

"that bastard deserved to get his head blown up, and i won't hesitate to do the same to the person that continues terrorizing you. you're mine, you said so yourself."

"i- i thought that was only-"

"what? dirty talk? no, no, my sweet little doctor. you are mine, and mine only." he takes your jaw into his hand, thumb caressing your tear stained cheek. "nobody can have you. nobody but me."

his other hand reaches behind your back, finding the doorknob for you. but instead of opening it, he locks it, then puts the hand on your waist.

"mine." he growls, before pressing his lips against yours.

it doesn't feel right. he is rough, not loving and warm at all. but you go with it, not having any other option available. he doesn't fight you on it, seeing that you aren't as enthusiastic as him. he pulls away, finger still cupping your face.

"come, you need some sleep."

and you listen. you go back to bed, getting into his embrace once again. only this time, it isn't anything like the first time. you fall asleep, scared to death, knowing that you now have two men who are a great danger to you. lovely.

in the morning, you are awakened by kisses on your neck. you rub your eyes, adjusting to the lighting.

"morning, darling."

"morning," you mumble, stretching.

you look down at the man, expecting to find the same possessive and cold gaze from last night. but his eyes are back to soft, and his tone is caring. what in the world?

"sleep well? i hope i didn't kick in my sleep. i tend to do that, since i'm used to sleeping alone and had barnes as my roomie."

"uh, no..." you say, puzzled. does he not remember what happened last night? or does he choose to ignore it?

"i ordered us breakfast. hope you're in the mood for waffles."

"mingi-"

"here," he adjusts your pillow against the bed frame so you can sit up straight, "i'll bring it to you."

you think this is a joke. a trap. is this the calm before the storm? if yes, how do you escape it? seeing mingi set the wooden tray on your lap so carelessly, as if you didn't fall asleep last night startled to death, makes you wonder if you should give yunho a call. would he even take you after the stunt you pulled? you eye the waffles, topped with various berries and honey. a glass of cranberry juice sits in the corner, as inviting as ever. but you don't touch it. you're too busy calculating in your head, even mingi notices your hesitation.

"what? want me to feed you?" the man in front of you jokes, popping a blueberry in his mouth.

when he sees your further lack of reaction and only your focused face, his smile drops. you gulp, hoping that last night won't happen again.

"i get it, i'm acting too normal for the situation we are in. but that's sometimes my only way out; to act like everything is fine. but everything can be fine, if you would just come with me."

"where would we even go?" you dare ask.

"anywhere you want." he replies, reaching for the knife and making you jolt. if he notices, he doesn't react. instead, he plays with it while thinking of his next words. your eyes follow as the tip of his finger runs down the sharp edge, as if determining whether it's sharp enough to use it. "just name it."

"with what money?"

"we'll figure it out. from the looks of it, you aren't doing too bad. i'm guessing you treated yourself with yunho's possessions?"

"you think nobody will recognize you?" you push. "you think yunho hasn't already sent out your photos and-"

"what the fuck is wrong with you all of a sudden?!" mingi roars, flipping the tray of food over and spilling the cranberry juice all over the white sheets. you shriek, then cover your ears as your body drowns into the mattress and beneath the covers. "answer me, dammit!"

his hand grips your wrists, pulling your hands away from your ears so he can yell at you more. you can only close your eyes, in hopes of making him disappear just for a split second.

"i came here knowing the risks, i'm offering to protect you from your awful brother, and i want to love you!"

"mingi please-" you beg through sobs, hands desperately trying to find their place back on your ears.

"why won't you let me love you?!" he then grabs you by your shoulders, shaking you. "answer me!"

the door swings open, hitting the wall with force and shaking your recently decorated shelves. books fall on the ground, but jeong yunho couldn't care less. he steps over them, grabbing mingi and landing a punch on his face. mingi stumbles, but regains his stability and wastes no time in giving yunho a taste of his own medicine. their faces soon match the colour of the spilled juice on the sheets, both of them wiping red trails from their lips and noses.

"get away from her." yunho demands, not having to raise his voice in order to make himself look intimidating. his calm expression as blood runs down his chin and onto his white shirt is scary enough. "now."

"i'm not letting her go back with you. not in that shithole."

"and i'm not letting her go with you."

you sit still on the bed, not moving a muscle and afraid to breathe. both of them look at you at the same time, causing you to squeal and jump out of the bed, legs carrying you to the door. yunho grabs you before mingi can, and for the first time in a while, you feel safe in his hands. you waste no time in wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your soaked face into his ruined shirt.

"i think it's pretty clear where she wants to be." yunho spits, protectively putting a hand on the back of your head and using the other one to push you further against him. "leave now, and i will leave you alone. you won't hear from me ever again. from either of us."

"no. i don't trust you one bit. doll, come back to me." mingi calls, putting his hand out for you to take.

you only glance at him, still in yunho's embrace and eyes full of tears. you shake your head, causing his face to drop. he frowns, then straightens his posture. something snaps inside of him, you see it. and you are grateful to have someone here, otherwise who knows what might've happened. something similar to the previous night, only worse?

"very well. that might be the stupidest decision you've made in your life."

with that, he passes by you, hitting yunho's shoulder in the process and causing you to jolt. but yunho doesn't budge. instead, he waits for the other man to leave before finally pulling away from you. you are overwhelmed by the situation, sobs finally leaving your mouth loud and clear as you try to process what just happened within a day.

"look at me," yunho says, voice soothing. "you're okay. he can't hurt you anymore."

when you only respond with a new fit of sniffs and sobs, he sighs and pulls you into a hug again.

"it's my fault."

"huh?"

"back in the elevator. it's not your fault. it's mine for keeping him alive."

"don't say that."

"you can't possibly- after what he's done to you? you still protect him?" the dark haired man scoffs in disbelief.

"no, i just- i don't like hearing you speak that way. can i just- have a day of not hearing anything about dying or living?"

yunho nods understandingly. "what do you want to do now?"

"what do you mean?" you ask, busying yourself by collecting the ruined sheets and avoiding his gaze.

"do you wish to come back and continue living with me?"

you halt your movements, trying to figure out if he is genuine or not. your eyes find his, and you try to read them as best as you can. but yunho maintains his poker face, causing you to step back.

"no prison, no anything. you can find a different job, i'll help you." he offers, seeing you put your walls up again.

"really?" you ask, not yet convinced.

"really. it's the least i can do." he looks down on the floor, admiring his shoes. "after everything i did to you."

you truly hope he is genuine. if not, well, there's nothing much you can do about it.

"okay."

the house looks the same as before your little renovating process. same pillows, same coffee table, same wallpapers. you forget how filthy rich he is. in contrast, your room was left untouched. messy, just how you left it when packing hurriedly. yunho didn't ask for his wallet or car back. he let you keep it all, even brought you job applications from nearby coffee shops on his way back from work.

"would you like to open your own?" he asks one morning, casually eating his cereal.

"what?!" you shout, causing him to flinch. "sorry, i just- what?"

"your own coffee shop. do you want it?"

"i'm not sure i'm ready for that. it's a lot of responsibility. besides, you'd buy it for me just like that?"

"yes. why not?"

you think about it, comfortable silence enveloping the two of you. you hear light crunching coming from his side of the table, the spoon gently grazing the bowl and milk dripping into it. it is the calmest morning you've had with him, and you can't help but feel grateful. you watch as he eats, wearing a simple nike set and fuzzy slippers you bought him when you were still a teen. he looks so... normal. like he doesn't torture people for fun during his working hours. like he didn't aim a lamp at your head and serve you a human finger. like he is your normal brother and this is a perfectly normal setting.

"what's on your mind?" he interrupts your thinking. "mingi?"

"yeah," you admit. "it's so weird. he was so nice in the cell, and when he came to my room... he was nice, then mean, then nice again. i'm confused."

he finishes his cereal, then brings the bowl to his lips and slurps the remaining milk. you roll your eyes, seeing the liquid drip down his chin and onto the table.

"yunho-" you cringe, watching him wipe it with his sleeve.

"i'll clean it up." he waves his hand, then reaches for paper towels to wipe his creation. "you were saying?"

"right," you clear your throat, gaze dropping on your own empty plate. "it's just- his behaviour is weird. he is so nice and loving, and the next second he is yelling at me and grabbing me like that. i've read his file, doesn't say anything about it. i've looked after him in his cell for months, he never had a rage fit. he never showed a hint of anger, let alone tried to do something to me."

yunho sighs. you look at him, eyes squinted. there's something he isn't telling you.

"yunho?"

"he has a personality disorder."

"what? why isn't that written anywhere? why didn't doctor maslow tell me?"

"listen, we made a deal, didn't we? me telling you this is my own free will, and i will tell you as much as i want."

you remember the deal, the one you've made the day you came back to the house again. if you're not going to work at the prison anymore, you don't get to interfere or ask him about it. and you accepted, gladly. you don't want to be connected with that place in any way.

"he has a personality disorder, i didn't inform you for my own private reasons. but since you came along and decided to help him, he was different. no more rage fits, even barnes was getting irritated because he had no reason to beat him."

but he still did, you want to say. and yunho knows, because he chuckles at your disgusted face.

"at first, he didn't remember the incident at his house. he was completely numb when we managed to enter the house, and was very much confused during the interrogation. even we were lost, because he was genuinely trying to help us figure out what happened. and then, when he heard a guard making a comment about his sister, we all figured it out. mingi jumped on him, bit his ear off, and that explained to us what's going on."

"oh."

"and that also explains what happened at the cafeteria, and why he was talking about protecting you. he was reliving the same story, and he couldn't contain himself."

you sit in silence, memories flooding back in. the prisoner with his throat bitten off, yunho holding mingi down, your dress soaking up the blood from the floor, all while mingi looks at you and doesn't fight back, only makes sure that you are okay.

"that's..." you huff, overwhelmed with the information you just found out, "...quite messed up. all of it."

"i know."

"if you see him again, will you bring him back?"

"no." he simply says, and with that, takes the bowl to the sink and approaches you. he plants a kiss on your head, something he hasn't done in... ever. "don't you worry about those things anymore. open a coffee shop, find a cute nerd and get married already."

"already? i am only-" you hit his shoulder, and he ruffles your hair.

"yeah, yeah. i'm leaving! don't wait for me, i won't be back until late tonight."

"yunho?" you call, voice small.

"yes?" he doesn't turn around, busy discarding his fuzzy slippers and putting his sneakers on.

"am i supposed to forget the lamp and finger incident?"

he halts his moves for a second, but pretends to be unbothered. you manage to see a frown on his face, no matter how much he tries to hide it. "that's behind us."

"i'll forever remember it." you admit.

"okay."

and with a door slam, he leaves you alone in the house. okay. it's not okay. not one bit. that part of this whole situation is still not resolved, and it is bugging you. will he do it again? is that why he isn't acknowledging it? you sigh, then make your way to bed. you rot in there all day, doing nothing but eating sweets and drinking cans of soda, your favorite show rolling on the wall tv. as the sun goes down, your eyes grow tired and irritated, and no matter how hard you try to stay awake, your body gives up.

you wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat. you keep dreaming of cells and mingi's screams, and it doesn't help that yunho isn't home most of the nights. everything is scarier when it's dark and yunho isn't here. especially tonight, when you reach for the bottle of water on your night stand and instead touch something soft. you turn your head, sleepily rubbing your eyes before taking a good look at the item.

a bouquet of tulips, with a note attached.

your heart stops, head frantically turning in search for a familiar figure hidden in the room. the window is wide open, a sign that you aren't or weren't alone. with shaky fingers, you reach for the note, using your phone light to read it.

𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒅𝒐𝒄. 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘? 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚.

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊.

you rip the note in tiny bits, then throw it in the trash and mask it with spare junk around the house. yunho can't see that. especially because you really plan on going.

fixing your favorite dress, taking your pepper spray just in case, and putting your newest sandals on, you make your way to the city library. you quietly walk among the shelves, like you once used to walk among the restricted sections. you pick a few books along the way, to look less suspicious. your heart pounds inside your chest, threatening to jump out. one part of you hopes he isn't here. you're not sure if you're ready for that encounter. the other part is getting disappointed with each section you pass, his figure not appearing yet.

you didn't quite think this through. frankly, you never do recently. how do you approach him? what do you say? what do you do?

you reach the end of the maze of shelves, letting out a disappointed, yet relieved huff. now what? the back of the note said ten in the morning, and it is now almost eleven. turning on your heel, your gaze remains on the random books you've picked.

"princess?"

you stop, head raising to find the source of the voice. song mingi stands in front of you, hands in his pockets and a hood over his head. words are lost in your throat, struggling to come together and leave your mouth. you step back, unsure of what to do. mingi steps towards you, and you continue like that, until your back hits the wall covered in shelves and massive history books.

"say something."

you fail to, only gulping and staring at him instead. his hands cup your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as his eyes scan your features.

"please." he whispers.

"hi." you say, stupidly.

he chuckles, then presses his lips on yours. it doesn't feel wrong this time. it feels familiar, and sweeter than ever. he plants small kisses all over your face, from your cheeks, to your forehead, and then on your neck.

"mingi-" you stop him, dropping the books on the floor and putting your hands on his chest.

"i've missed you. please."

"you wanted to meet so you can fuck me?" you ask, disbelief evident on your face.

he pulls away immediately, but his hands stay on your face. "no, of course not. i wanted to talk to you, but now that i see you... i remember how much i miss you."

"this was a bad idea. i have to go."

you try pushing him away, but he grabs you by your waist and pushes you against the shelves. he drops down on his knees, hands sliding down your clothed hips and down to the bottom of your dress. you shiver as his cold hands touch your bare legs under the dress.

"mingi..." you say again, each time less convincingly.

"just... ten minutes. give me ten minutes."

his fingers find the outline of your panties, and you don't protest. remembering the last time his hands were all over you, you give yourself to him. his head disappears under your dress, hot breath caressing your clothed clit. he licks a strip over the panties, causing you to squirm. his grip on your legs hardens, spreading them in the process and making you stay still. your hand grips his hair as soon as he pulls your panties aside, hot tongue teasing the tip of your clit.

you shudder, body getting used to the foreign feeling of pleasure. mingi devours you like a starved man, sucking on your clit, licking up and down your folds, and teasing your entrance.

"you taste as sweet as you look." he pulls away just to say that, then wastes no time in picking your body off the floor and putting your legs over his shoulders.

you gasp, losing control of your body. "what if someone- ah! sees?"

"let them."

his fingers find comfort in your tight walls, scissoring and stretching you. the noises alone make you even wetter than you already are, mingi's hums combined with the slurping and squelching making you dizzy with pleasure. a knot forms at the bottom of your stomach, his fingers toying with your sensitive buttons and helping you reach the peak.

he doesn't silence you, instead, lets you moan his name as you grind your hips against him, riding out the last bits of orgasm. he licks up the remaining liquid, before putting your panties back in place and setting you down on the ground.

he finally takes his hood off, and all the pleasure and bliss you were feeling up until now disappear. his face is more wounded than ever, purple and red spots scattered on it.

"what the hell happened?!"

"yunho's men found me last night after i left your house. tried to kill me. again."

"oh my god," you put a hand over your mouth, not believing your ears. who do you even trust at this point?

"run away with me, doctor. please."

"i- i don't know." you avoid his gaze, looking at the long forgotten books on the floor.

"nobody will ever love you like i do. nobody knows you like i do. so please. make this easy for both of us and come with me."

you want to. you really do. but yunho-

"yunho is a bad man. i know he's your brother, but he is a monster. maybe you don't know, or maybe you do, but i wasn't the only one who had to endure that torture. countless of us, but only i found a way out. well, the way out found me. you found me."

you never thought about it. you only ever saw and heard of mingi, but who knows how many of them there were.

"how about this? i'll take you to my house, and while i finish some business, you can think about it. if you really don't want it, leave while i'm gone, and i'll never look for you again. however, if you do want it, there's spare clothes and a suitcase. you know what to do. that sound good?"

you nod, grateful that he is giving you time to think. he plants a kiss on your forehead, then takes your hand and leads you out of the library. you don't question where he got a car from, you like peace(lol). the house is almost an hour drive away from the library, and soon enough, you realize that it is the very same house you saw in the files back in prison. you walk the same path yunho has probably walked, only unarmed and with the person he came for.

the inside of it is mostly empty, besides a sofa in the living room and empty kitchen cabinets. there's multiple packets of cereal on the counter, and two or three unwashed bowls in the sink. is that what he has been eating since he got out?

he notices you staring at the place, a question mark almost visible above your head. "neighbors raided the house as soon as they moved out."

you hum, not sure what to say. he offers you a can of coke, which you politely take, but don't open yet. he sighs, seeing your hesitation.

"i'll be leaving now. feel free to explore, i have nothing to hide."

that was a lie, because as soon as you see him disappear down the street, you raid the house. everything seems normal, except a picture frame on the wall. you tilt it, noticing that it hangs weird. and indeed, you find something he is hiding. a hole in the wall, with a few weapons and bullets, stacks of money and jewelry. above it, a picture of you and your brother, with a knife stabbed into his face. you immediately figure out just what kind of business mingi has to finish.

yunho closes the door to your room, sighing. you texted him this morning, saying that you were meeting up with a friend. but you are not back yet, and his calls aren't reaching you. he has sent both barnes and elijah to look for you for almost an hour now, but all he has is we are close to her, sir.

he walks into his bathroom, ruffling his hair. his light blue silk sleepwear is suddenly uncomfortable, knowing that you are somewhere out there this late. he wishes you could only send him a message that you are fine. he wouldn't demand that you come back immediately, you are an adult. just to let him know that you are okay.

the man splashes his face with cold water, grief eating him inside out. every time he closes his eyes, he sees yours full of fear looking at him. as soon as you come back, he'll apologize. for everything. he will admit that he doesn't know why he did what he did. the power must've consumed him, he can't find any other reason.

he opens his eyes, looking at his drenched face and eyebags. he hasn't slept well in ages, but he is so close to it. little by little, he is working on making the prison what you wanted it to be; a place of rehabilitation, not torture and punishment. he sighs, reaching for the towel and burying his face into it. the scent of the fabric softener calms him, along with the soft texture of the towel. folding it neatly and setting it down, he glances at himself one more time. a hooded figure stares back at him, right behind him.

"FUCK!"

yunho jumps, hand grabbing the first thing he could. he shudders, for the first time ever in front of someone, when he sees the gun pointed at him in contrast to the electric toothbrush in his hand. he gulps, then glances at the open door. he runs into the dark room, hand reaching for the drawer where he keeps his weapon. but no matter how much yunho tugs, it stays shut. that bastard.

the other man catches yunho off guard, turning him around and hitting him with the weapon. yunho stumbles back, nose and teeth in incredible pain.

"fucking hell, i thought i killed you!" yunho says, spitting blood on the floor.

the hooded man in front of him only smiles, still holding the gun up. he tilts his head, somewhat creepily, sending yunho shivers up his spine. he takes a step back, realizing just how unsafe he is in his own home.

"third time's the charm, right? you failed the first two, even when you had the upper hand. now that we are even..." the hooded man tosses a spare gun on the floor, then kicks it yunho's way, "...let me see you. do your own damn dirty business."

"where is she?"

"safe from you."

"where the fuck is my sister?!"

"TAKE THE DAMN GUN AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN." mingi booms, having enough of the man in front of him.

yunho takes it, wasting no time in pointing the gun at mingi, finger hesitating to pull the trigger. mingi only laughs, not showing fear at all. yunho steps back, as if that's going to save him. he only hopes that you didn't willingly go with mingi. that no matter how bad it sounds, you went against your own will. he would be very disappointed if the first thing is true.

"pull the trigger, yunho."

something is not right.

"go on, that's what you wanted."

he is too calm.

"think about your little sister."

no, not you. he can't die and leave you behind.

"pull the damn trigger, jeong yunho!"

and yunho does, except, no bullet comes out. the weapon only clicks, and yunho barely has time to think of his next step when he hears a gunshot. he doesn't feel pain. he only feels weak, body threatening to fall. is this what it feels like to die? you don't feel anything? you just get dizzy and fall asleep?

"doc-" mingi gasps, and yunho finally looks at him. "what have you done?"

his eyes fall on your figure at the door. you hold a gun in your hand, shaking. mingi falls on the ground, and you run to yunho, handing him the weapon.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," you sob, hiding behind your brother.

"it's okay," yunho says, shielding you from mingi.

he doesn't really have to, because mingi coughs on the ground, blood spilling from his mouth and down his chin. why, he repeats, eyes piercing yours. you want to help him, even though you brought him to that state. but yunho stops you, keeping your body behind him as he points the loaded gun at the wounded man.

he doesn't need to shoot again. mingi lets out a final cough, hand slipping from his wounded chest and on the floor. his head falls to the side, eyes still locked on you, lifeless. you sob, loud. you now have someone's blood on your hands. not just anyone's, but blood of the man who your promised to heal. instead, you killed him. but it was either him or yunho, and you didn't have much choice. keeping both alive was impossible, and you didn't want to lose yunho. not your only family. family that is finally starting to feel like one.

yunho drops the gun on the floor, turning to hug you. you wail into his chest, fingers gripping the silk and tears wetting it. he hushes you, hand rubbing your back as he shields you from the unpleasant sight.

"it's finally over. you're safe now."

taglist: *i tagged everyone who wanted a part two, if you want me to remove you, please dm me :)

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klaus-littlestwolf · 6 months

Text

Aemond T. Yandere A-Z

(For the multiple people who asked for a Yandere Alphabet for our favorite little War Criminal)

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Aemond is a gift giver to the extreme

•From the moment you found out about your betrothal to your Uncle, you had been receiving gorgeous dresses, fantastic shoes and jewelry you could never have imagined wearing. All of the jewelry you were gifted containing large sapphires in the necklaces or earrings, staking the One Eyed Princes claim on you

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•He loves getting bloody on a normal occasion so getting bloody for you would be a joy for Aemond

•He would slaughter any and all men who dared even think they had a chance with his girl and he even killed a few women who thought it their place to ‘warn you’ about what he’s like and insist you needed to get out of the marriage proposal, even though you all knew that was impossible

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•Aemond would avoid harming you as much as possible, he never liked to see pain on your face or bruises on your perfect porcelain skin but if you thought you were going to defy him then he needed to teach you a lesson

•Normally locking you in your rooms was enough after two days of isolation and eating all of your meals alone

•Only once did Aemond ever really hurt you and it was only after you had pushed him too far, something even you admitted he couldn’t ignore in public

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•Aemond is as patient as he can be with you but if you give him no other choice, then yes, he absolutely will

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Aemond talks to you about almost everything

•One of your jobs as his wife is to listen to him and you quickly find out you’re the only person that he really tells about how he feels about everything from his mother to his brother to even his father

•He is also very open in how he feels about you, making it clear from the moment you are betrothed that you are his and he is completely obsessed with you loves you dearly

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Aemond absolutely thinks it’s funny…for about 5 minutes

•You are his wife and him your husband, you will behave as a lady is expected to behave within the confines of her marriage so ‘fighting back’ isn’t really much of an option

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•You are Aemond’s everything, this is no game

•Anyone who thinks it is will get a painful wake up call sooner than they think

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•Your worst experience would be the one time you made the mistake of refusing his demands in front of the small council

•Aemond didn’t want to harm you, he was trying quite hard to get you used to being his wife and doing your duties/behaving how he expected you to but you didn’t give him much of an option before you felt his hand strike your face so painfully you briefly thought he had broken your jaw

•He apologized for hitting you so hard later in the privacy of your rooms but informed you that you shouldn’t have said anything against him in front of anyone especially the small council and even you knew how badly you had messed up as soon as the words left your mouth

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Aemond’s plan is impregnating you

•That has been his plan since the moment he insisted his mother ensure you were going to be his wife

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•When Aemond is jealous someone is going to die, he is a violent man when he thinks another man is getting close to his wife and he will often publicly punish any man who he thinks is looking at his Princess wrong

•You learned very quickly to talk to other men as little as possible

•However you also learned that if you wanted a man dead you had a sure fire way to make it happen

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•When you and Aemond are alone he is much different than he is in public

•Aemond is usually a sweet, gentle person with you when he isn’t in a bad mood or you’re not being difficult

•Even when in public he is gentler with you than most men are with their wives, he’s just far more quiet and somber

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•He made sure his mother knew he would only accept you as his wife, and that if Rhaenyra made the mistake of trying to marry you to anyone else he would steal you away before any wedding could take place and burn the Lords house to the ground, ally of the Hightowers or not

•Aemond was quite sweet to you, he always had been when you were children however he was a proper gentleman now and he ensured you were as happy as you could be…obsessively so

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•He is quiet for the most part in public, and if he must say something it is usually a snarky comment or a backhanded insult

•With you he is very attentive and often needy for your attention which is actually what makes you fall for him in the end, loving his desperation for you

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•Aemond locks you in your chambers until you can’t stand being alone anymore and admit you were wrong for whatever, you never really need anything more than that

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•Rights?

•What are rights?

•You are Aemond’s wife. You will do what is expected of a highborn lady wife or be punished. Even so, Aemond tries to make you as happy as he can and doesn’t order you about as much as he could

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•Aemond tries his best to be very patient and to his credit he does very well until you push too hard

•Compared to other men and even other Targaryen men, he is quite patient with you, wanting you to actually learn lessons and want to be a good wife for him in the end

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

Died: He would be a complete basket case without you and he would refuse to remarry for any reason what so ever

Escaped: He would go on a rampage until he got you back. No one would be safe until he found you and had you back in his arms

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•Aemond will Never let you go

•He would only ever regret how hard he slapped you once in a small council meeting, he hated how afraid of him you were in that moment

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•You had always been the only one in the family who was kind to Aemond, being his best friend as kids

•He knew you would be his wife from the moment you first stuck up for him during the pig prank to your brothers and uncle, that was the day he fell completely in love with you

•He decided that night that he would do whatever he needed to do in order to make you his wife, even though he knew his mother would want to marry him to another house and that Rhaenyra would never want you to be with him

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Anger

•Your tears brings out a rage in Aemond that is not often seen and he will slaughter whoever has made you so upset

•If he were the one to upset you however, he wouldn’t really know how to fix that. He would typically hold you until you either calmed down or cried yourself out and then get you a gift as an apology since “apologizing” isn’t really something he knows how to do very well

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•In the beginning of your relationship, before the wedding was set and you were staying as far from him as you could, Aemond came up with a plan to make you dependent on him and feel safe with him to ensure you wouldn’t try and run back home to Rhaenyra and Daemon (who was the only man you seemed to trust which enraged him to no end)

•Aemond had Criston Cole hire a man to sneak into the castle with the intent to kill you. He planed it out meticulously to ensure you were never in any real danger though you wouldn’t know that

•The man entered your chambers as you were getting ready to sleep and you shrieked, backing towards the window, pleading with him not to harm you and telling him that he could leave and you would forget he was ever there. Suddenly your door flew open and Aemond ran in, he was on the man before you could blink, beating his head in as he shouted about how he would never let anyone harm his wife

•It was that night that you really began giving Aemond the chance to win your love, realizing that you were truly safe with him. The entire plot was a secret that Aemond would take to his grave

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•His jealousy, 100%

•If you want someone, anyone dead, all you need to do is make it seem like they’ve been looking at you for more than a second too long, it gives you a feeling of absolute power and you love it

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Aemond would never hurt you in any kind of serious way

•If he has to he will lock you in your chambers for the rest of your life, but he won’t do you serious harm

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•He definitely has a way of making you feel like a Goddess

•Especially when you’re pregnant as he worships the ground you walk on. He is constantly getting you whatever food you’re craving, fluffing your pillows, rubbing your sore feet, anything to make his precious Princess feel better while she is carrying his baby inside of her

•You are the most precious thing in the whole world to him and even when he is upset with you Aemond never lets you forget it

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Aemond has always loved you, and always had a bit of a crush on you however he has been head over heels since he was 10

•He keeps it together and hidden until he is 16 and he demands you as his bride upon hearing that Rhaenyra was considering marriage proposals for you, the idea of you being married off to someone else sending him over the edge

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•Aemond doesn’t want you broken, he wants you to be his compliant little Princess and that’s exactly what you are

•You had always known what was expected of you as a women and a wife in a marriage from the time that you were a little girl (though you never expected to be married to your Uncle) but Aemond ensured that you would be exactly what he always wanted in a wife and you are absolutely Perfect to him

Aemond T. Masterlist

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ithebookhoarder · 7 months

Note

If your still taking requests could u pls do “if you were taken by an unsub” criminal minds imagin? Or smth along those lines, if not that’s fine tho

~ ☘️

(BAU Headcanons) If you were taken by an Unsub

A/N: Um, of course you can?! Thanks for sending this one in angel 😇 I'm only sorry it's taken me this long to answer this. Hope you like it!

Warnings: Usual Criminal Minds references to criminals, murder, violence etc. Mentions of mental health. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

If you were taken? This man would not rest until you were back and safe with him - and not just because of what happened to Haley (though it doesn’t help).

He would bark orders at everyone in a cold and blunt manner that tells them he is not in the mood to be messed with.

They will do as they are told and they will do it now.

This poor man would be fighting not to let his fear show but he'd be seen clenching his fists over and over and taking long deep breaths in front of the mirror in the bathroom in an attempt to ground himself and get his head on straight.

He's no good to you if he lets himself fall apart. His team - and more importantly, you - are counting on him.

You know he’s blaming himself and you’re both going to need therapy once this whole experience is over with.

He would go into his hyper-rational mode, focusing on making plans and ignoring anything that isn’t getting you back safe and sound - which means no sleep. None. He’s running on fumes and caffeine - even after you’re found.

It would take days for him to feel secure enough to close his eyes and be able to trust you’ll still be there when he opens them again.

Also you best believe he is breaking out his old law text books and ensuring this UnSub goes down for a lonnnnnng time… if they even make it to trial that is. This man is a trained sniper and knows other trained snipers… just saying…

David Rossi

He may like to remind you all of his passionate Italian nature from time to time but it’s impossible to miss when he hears what’s happened to you. He’s an emotional mess, staggering between horror and rage to a frighteningly cold determination that is rare for the eldest team member.

He’d try to act in control, pulling rank on everyone - including Hotch, which obviously doesn’t work.

“No offence, Aaron, but I was chasing down Unsubs when you were still in diapers. I know what I’m doing.”

However, they know him well enough to see that despite having years of experience under his belt, Rossi is terrified of making some kind of mistake.

Once they do find you, he’d be one of the first through the door, too concerned with checking you’re ok to worry about anything else.

He’d also be sure to pay for the best medical care money could buy, if you needed it following the ordeal.

He also knows people and has no problem paying for you to see a counsellor of some sort if the situation required it. He just wants to take care of you now that you’re back in his arms again.

Derek Morgan

This man is like a whole military unit in himself at the best of times, but he’s a whole other level of lethal when it comes to protecting the ones he loves. You do NOT want to be on the wrong side of Morgan, and that’s exactly where the Unsub who took you would sit.

There isn’t a door he wouldn’t be willing to kick down to get you - and everybody knows better than to say a word about it. (Hotch is already mentally filling out all the paperwork he’s going to need once this rescue is done, but he doesn’t exactly mind, given the situation).

Also, Morgan may have trained you himself, drilling you in self-defence and marksmanship so you’d known how to protect yourself out there in the field, but none of that matters now. You may have the Unsub at your mercy already, or you may be at theirs, but he doesn’t know and that’s what’s killing him: the not knowing.

It’s why Penelope is basically glued to his side the whole entire time, telling him everything she finds out the very second she finds it.

“We’ll find them sugar, I promise. They’re just as tough and strong as you are, so don’t give up on them, ok?”

He’d be leading the pack once you are found though, tearing through anyone and anything that stood in his way. All he cares about is seeing you with his own eyes and getting you as far away from danger as possible.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It’s my job to keep you safe and I failed you.”

He’d be beating himself up for weeks after and it would take an entire team intervention to get him to let you go back out into the field again without him being glued to your side. After all, he’s not making the same mistake twice. Any Unsub wants that wants to get close to you will have to get past him first.

Emily Prentiss

This woman is a super spy and a lethal weapon on an average day but if you were taken? Then she would be the most dangerous woman in the entire United States.

She knows people in every agency and on every continent so you best believe she will be calling in favours left, right and centre. (Even Rossi is terrified by how quickly she was able to get the Pentagon on the phone…)

She would also be action-focused, needing to do something rather than sitting around wasting time. Every minute spent talking was one more minute the Unsub had to hurt you - and that thought makes her feel physically sick.

This would end up causing her to explode, taking it out on whichever unfortunate soul is closest. Like, you know she would definitely have to be reminded by Hotch that they actually need the local law enforcement to work with them, if they want to get you back alive, after she is seen screaming at an unfortunate officer for their ‘utter stupidity’.

Thankfully, she gets to turn that rage on the Unsub after they find you. I mean, let’s be real. It would take Morgan physically holding her back to stop her from beating their face in.

This frustration would ultimately then be transferred to you, once she knows you’re safe.

You almost can quote her ‘You almost died’ speech by this point, but you know it makes you both feel better to hear it so you let her rant and rant until she’s calm enough to crawl into your arms and squeeze you close.

“I love you so much. I can’t lose you.”

You’re also pretty sure she now has people following you at all times, watching over you when she can’t, so that this never happens again.

JJ is every bit as lethal as Emily is when those she loves are at risk. If anything, she’s more terrifying because she’ll hide that murderous rage behind a ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt’ smile before deciding to strike.

However, it would take everything in her not to just charge in and go on the offensive. After all, she was willing to run into a bank full of armed robbers after Will.

It would probably end up with the team having to physically holding her back to stop her - usually accompanied by a well meaning pep talk about how she needs to get her head on straight if she actually wants to help get you back.

You know this woman would follow you everywhere afterwards, never letting you out of her sight. In fact, she hits ‘super Mom mode’ where she is constantly fussing over you and seems to have the world in her go-bag.

You need tissues, pain-killers, chocolate: she got it.

“Hey, it’s ok. You know I’ve got your back, right? I won’t let anything else happen to you. You’re safe now.”

She would also call you out on all your BS, if you tried to downplay what happened to you or if you were still affected.

One twitch of her eyebrow is all it takes for her to have you pinned to your chair and spilling your guts about your emotions. You know better than to make her ask twice. After all, she may be the first to downplay it when she’s hurting but when it comes to her team and her family, she’d do anything to take care of you. If that’s driving your ass to therapy or just holding you, she’ll do it without complaint.

Penelope Garcia

Would immediately panic as soon as she hears what’s happened to you. Like, we’re talking SO much panic.

Poor girl is spiralling and needs the team to help ground her so she can get back to the lair and do her thing. It would probably be down to Morgan or like JJ to get her to actually remember to breathe and not make herself pass out.

But once she’s up and running? Well, she’d be all over the Unsub like a bad rash. Every teeny tiny detail of their life is suddenly unearthed and splashed on the

board for everyone to see. (No one dares ask how she found certain items, but knowing her history with the dark web it’s probably for the best).

Also, she would be begging for constant updates once the team is out in the field. Any other day, it would drive the team insane to have a constant running Penelope monologue in their ears, but they’re surprisingly tolerant in this case.

“Guys, do you see them? Are they ok? What’s going on? I need to know people! I have no eyes here!”

Would be all over you once you’re safe and insists on installing tracking software on everything. She wants a digital link to you, 24/7 so that this NEVER happens again. It’s simultaneously flattering and slightly terrifying how much power this angel has at the end of her glittery, manicured fingers.

Dr Spencer Reid

Depending on which season-Reid you’re with when you’re taken, you would have a distraught super genius who makes it his life’s mission to get you back. Or, you’d have a prison-hardened super genius with a slightly grey-er view of the world on a mission to find you.

Either way, there’s probably no one you’d want more to be in charge of locating and rescuing you.

Like Hotch, I feel he would become obsessed with nothing other than finding you. He wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t sleep. Hell, no one on the team has even seen him leave the briefing room long enough to go pee, let alone take a break. This results in the team all taking it in turns to be parental figures and coax (and eventually threaten) him into pausing long enough to down a glass of water and eat some snack bar.

Between Morgan’s physical threats, JJ’s guilt-trips, and Hotch threatening to bench him from this case, they’d eventually succeed.

“You guys don’t get it. They need me. I have to figure this out - they’re counting on me. I can’t fail them. I won’t. So either help me or get out of here and let me think.”

We all know he would probably harass any medical professionals charged with caring for you, once you’re back. He doesn’t trust them - especially when it comes to your welfare.

He’d also confine you to the couch and force you to rest, queueing up endless re-runs of Doctor Who and whatever shows you find most comforting to have playing in the background. It’s selfishly what he needs too, being able to sit and hold you long enough to quell any fears he may have about you and your wellbeing. You’re here and you’re real and you’re safe.

Masterlist

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moonlinos · 8 months

Text

Invisible string (pt. III)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: After so many years of being closed off from the idea of love, you finally allow yourself to feel it freely with Minho.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, swearing

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: A part of this chapter was almost shamelessly inspired by the song that inspired the plot in the first place, Invisible String by Taylor Swift. Also really inspired by my favorite Minho vlog, Lee Know Log 4 🩷

To those who have asked to be tagged in this story: would any of you be interested in being tagged in any new work I post later? Let me know! And thank you for reading and giving me such a great experience posting my writing here for the first time 🩷

← part II ♡ ⟳ part I

You spend the entire flight home processing everything that had happened during the trip; from Minho’s words, to your kisses and touches, to you ultimately acknowledging your own romantic feelings for him. Although it all felt sudden, it had been a long time coming.

As his car stops at the front of your house, Minho steps out and walks with you, your backpack in hand.

“I know you’re scared. I understand that even more now that I know about your past relationships,” he speaks softly as the two of you stop at the front door, “And I want you to know that I’m gonna be patient.”

You nod slowly, although the desire to answer him is still so prevalent in your mind, the words lodged in your throat and yearning to spill out. But you’ve made the mistake of jumping into relationships far too often, always driven by your emotions, and every time, the outcome has been disastrous. You don’t want that to happen with Minho.

So, you settle on a question that has been eating away at you.

“Why do you like me, Minho?”

His face twists into a deep frown before ultimately softening. Carefully placing your backpack on the step leading to the front door, he sighs.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that,” he assures you, his rough hands touching your shoulders before moving down your arms to entwine with your own. “You don’t even realize how fucking amazing you are, do you? I’d move mountains, fight anyone and do anything if it meant I’d have the privilege to see you smile.”

And, just like that, you feel your lips stretch out into a small smile at his words. He grins at you.

“Just like that. I’d do anything to see that,” he says. “And you take care of your friends simply because you love them, never asking for anything in return. You collect plushies like me, you appreciate the criminally underrated flavor of lemon cake, and you worked at the same convenience store as me, and spilled coffee all over my notebook on the day we met. That’s why I like you; because you’re you.”

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes, so you quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your shoes. With a nod, you wrap your arms around Minho, taking in his scent and reveling in the comforting warmth of his body. Little did he know, you were just as willing to do whatever it took to keep him near you. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead as you break away from his embrace.

“I’ll call you later, okay? Thank you for the trip.”

As soon as you step inside your house, Eunha is quick to come running towards you, her hands dirty with flour as she abandons her unbaked cookies on the counter and pulls you into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” she whines, “How will I survive living without you next year?”

You chuckle, watching as her lips turn into a pout.

“I’m sure we’ll suffer equally, if that makes you feel better.”

She fakes a sob, turning on her heels and heading toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Hyunjin is in a crisis, apparently,” she tells you, wiping her hands on her apron. “He called me three times just today to ask if you were back already.”

You let out a sigh. Hyunjin was more often than not either glum or vexed due to his trials and mishaps in finding love. He once joked that you two would end up having to marry each other with how things were going. You dreaded his reaction to the news of Minho soon entering your life in a new way.

“The hotel’s Wi-Fi was a joke, but I honestly didn’t even think to check my phone,” you tell Eunha, who giggles as she cuts her cookies into heart shapes. “What? Why are you giggling like that?” You ask her with a grin, approaching the counter.

She shrugs. “Nothing. I didn’t even think to check my phone,” she playfully mimics your voice, looking up at you, “I’m guessing you had fun, then?”

“I did,” you beam, “It was everything I thought it would be and even more.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Even more?”

“Even more,” you reiterate. “I had so much fun with Minho. I forgot how good it feels to just let go and allow myself to feel what I want to feel.”

Eunha’s lips curl into a small smile. She hums, lowering her head in a feeble attempt at pretending to focus on the cookies in front of her. “And what did you want to feel this weekend?”

“Like maybe I can finally fall in love again.”

Your friend lifts her head, her eyes wide. “Love?” she exclaims, “You, the girl who has spent every day since I met you talking about how love isn’t important, is wanting to fall in love?”

You chuckle at her reaction, shrugging dismissively. “In my defense, I had my reasons. Plus, some things made me change my mind.”

“More like someone,” Eunha teases, and you roll your eyes at her, but a smile spreads on your lips unwittingly. “I’m happy for you,” she beams, “and I think you should definitely fall in love again — not maybe.”

You sprint across the small kitchen space, circling around the counter to wrap your arms around Eunha and squeezing her as she lightly pushes you away, warning you about flour getting all over your clothes, but you don’t mind.

Because you love her, as you’ve learned this past weekend, and you don’t mind the mess when it comes to someone you love.

It’s only as you enter your room that you check your phone, which is filled with notifications from Hyunjin, much like Eunha had said. After ten missed calls, it seems he resorted to simply texting you.

Hyune: hey I know you’re in japan but can you answer the phone? Hyune: I promise I’ll be quick. just wanna talk to you Hyune: hear your voice idk I feel really alone rn and really bad idk lol Hyune: mingyu has his girlfriend over. can you believe they’re still together? Hyune: can you believe he has a girlfriend and I can’t even find someone to give me the time of day lol Hyune: can you believe every date I go to ends with me crying lol Hyune: sorry I’m being annoying and the messages aren’t even being delivered, you’re clearly having fun sorry Hyune: sorry Hyune: guess that’s why nobody can endure me for more than two dates Hyune: have fun 🤍 I love you

You feel your heart ache as you read his messages, answering with an apology. But before you can hit send on your second message, Hyunjin has already replied.

Hyune: it’s okay. I’m sorry I even sent those in the first place

Me: Stop apologizing Me: You know I love you and I’ll always be here for you Me: Where are you?

Hyune: at my dorm Hyune: staring at the ceiling

Me: I’m coming over

True to his words, Hyunjin is lying on the floor of his dorm’s cramped living room once you open the door. There’s a small canvas propped up against the wall, a myriad of shades of blue forming the shape of a face. Your best friend’s talent never ceases to amaze you, and you have to fight the urge to stand still by the front door for a few seconds simply admiring his new painting.

“Look at this sulking Pisces,” you click your tongue as you approach Hyunjin, who only opens one eye to shoot you a glance.

“I’m in a fragile state and this is how you greet me,” he all but pouts before sitting up as you sit cross-legged beside him on the floor. “How was the trip?”

You shrug. “It was fun. We only had one day to explore the city, so we didn’t do much,” you say simply, tapping your fingers on your thigh.

You don’t want to sit and talk about how much fun you had during a trip when Hyunjin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes are staring directly at you. He was sad, and his sadness was palpable throughout the entire living room — his bitten lips, his painting, his hands covered in dried-up blue paint; everything was dripping in sadness. This was a constant with Hyunjin, but lately it had become even worse. He has an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, but his every attempt at fulfilling this desire is futile for reasons you cannot wrap your head around.

“I like the new painting,” you smile, focusing on the saddened blue face. Hyunjin scoffs beside you.

“It’s fucking terrible,” His hand shoves the canvas face down on the floor. You bite your lip. “Can’t even paint shit I like anymore. Every time I try, it always turns out muddy and sad.”

“What happened?”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Well I’m pathetic, so it’s still the same old reason. I had a date with this girl on Saturday, but she canceled at the last minute. Texted me something about me being too clingy after she agreed to go out with me, about how she knows she would feel suffocated if we dated.”

You furrow your brows together, anger bubbling up inside your chest. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, but don’t worry!” Hyunjin gave you a forced smile. “She made sure to remind me that it was her, not me, and that lots of women out there like guys like me. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, turning his attention toward his hands before scratching some of the dried paint off. You sigh.

“Hyunjin, she isn’t wrong about that. You know that, right? You’re not the one at fault.”

He scoffs. “Sure seems like it when every date I’ve gone to since starting university has ended up with me being rejected for the same fucking reasons. It’s always me. Too clingy, too sentimental, too emotional,” his voice is almost a whisper as he speaks. He turns to face you again. “Remember how I would stop sleeping with you whenever I liked someone? Wanna know why I stopped doing that? ‘Cause I know it’s not gonna go anywhere anyway, so what’s the point? It never goes anywhere, and then I’m left alone again. Maybe I should just accept it, y’know? Some people are just meant to be alone, and clearly I’m one of them.”

Your anger has now morphed into sadness. You hate the way Hyunjin talks about himself, hate it even more how it seems nobody can appreciate the amazing person he is. Being caring and sentimental is not a flaw, and you pray that he never allows other people’s opinions to sway him into thinking that way. You pray he finds someone who can appreciate these qualities in him the same way you do.

“You’re not alone, Hyune,” you assure him, taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re surrounded by friends who love you so much, and while I know that’s not the type of love you yearn for, it’s still love.”

Hyunjin smiles softly at you before pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours. It’s sudden but not entirely unexpected; the way you and Hyunjin dealt with shitty things in life and unpleasant feelings together had always been through sex, and you knew it always made him feel at least a little better afterward. And so you let him, returning the kiss even as part of you felt wrong doing it when your entire being was consumed with thoughts of only Minho.

As soon as he kisses you, he swiftly pushes you down onto the hardwood floor and hovers over you. Hyunjin’s fingers undo the buttons of your cardigan before slipping under your shirt, caressing your skin as his lips trail kisses down your neck. Soon enough, his body is pressed up against your spread thighs, and you know where this is going — but as much as you want to make your best friend feel better, you cannot bring yourself to do it.

“Hyune,” you softly call out, and he hums against your throat. “We can’t do this.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist. “Mingyu always comes home late when he goes out with his girlfriend. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that, Hyunjin. I just—”

“Do you not wanna fuck on the floor?” He asks, coming up to look at you. He cocks his head to the side. “We can just do it on the couch then, I really don’t wanna have sex with all those pictures of Mingyu and his friends staring at us in our room.”

“Hyunjin, no—”

“It’s not like we never did it on a couch before, stop being dramatic—”

“I’m in love with Minho.”

It comes out before you can fully comprehend what you’re saying, the word love slipping past your lips effortlessly. Hyunjin stills on top of you, his body rigid and tense.

“Oh,” is all he offers you. You nod slowly, fingers picking at a drop of paint that stained the collar of his shirt.

You whisper, “I really am just as surprised as you are, believe me.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I’m not surprised. I just— now you’re leaving me, too.”

You shake your head. It’s ludicrous to you that Hyunjin could imagine that you would ever even entertain the thought of leaving him. Running a hand through his messy hair, you pull him in and press a kiss to his nose. Hyunjin hides his face in the crook of your neck with a groan.

“Sorry, that was pathetic. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologizes. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just love you so much. I thought we would…”

You furrow your brows as he trails off his words. You thread your fingers through his long hair. “We would…?”

“End up together somehow,” he speaks slowly, his voice muffled, and your heart drops.

Hyunjin harboring these feelings about you was something you would never have imagined. You were certain he was content being your friend and having sex with you only until he found the right person. He went on several dates, after all. Your heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces upon learning about his hidden desire for the future he used to so often joke about: you two ending up together simply because you were each other’s only choices.

“Hyunjin,” you start carefully, “I love you, too. So much. You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. We don’t have to be together romantically for us to be in love, y’know? I realized that just recently.”

You feel him nod his head, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

“I’m just sad I won’t have you anymore. I’m gonna miss us so much,” he places a small kiss on your collarbone. “Whenever I felt like I was in a dark pit with no way out, every single time you were there to bring me out of it and make me feel okay again. I love you so much for that.”

And you can only softly smile at his words before your heart shatters all over again as you hear him quietly begin to sob in your skin.

“Hyunjin,” you call out, although you know he won’t reply. “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. My love for you goes beyond us having sex — that wasn’t even important to me in our relationship. It was just something good on top of something already amazing.” With a slow nod, he lifts his head and gazes at you with red, teary eyes, causing your heart to ache even more. “I’ll never leave you. Ever. I’ll still answer your four hundred three a.m. texts, still let you hide away in my house, still happily listen to you complain about your days, and still hold you when you cry.”

Hyunjin pouts like a child, and your heart swells with fondness.

“Really?” He asks, and you chuckle with a nod.

“Really,” you assure him. “Me being with someone will never change our friendship, or my love for you. I mean, we won’t have sex anymore, of course, but I’ll still talk shit about your roommate with you so I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s tearful expression vanishes, replaced by a small teasing grin. “I am gonna have to jerk off significantly more, so I don’t know about forgiveness,” he jokes.

You push him off you with a chuckle, sitting up as he tries to regain his balance.

“When did this whole thing with Minho even happen?” Hyunjin asks, setting his painting back against the wall. You shrug, buttoning up your cardigan. He hums. “So, are you already together?”

“Not yet,” you say, “but I’m gonna answer him after our class this week. If he fucking lets me, that is. He says he wants to be patient, but I don’t want to be patient. The only thing I wanna be is with him.”

Hyunjin’s whole body contorts as he groans. “Ew, what the fuck? When did you become such a sap?”

As you shove him back once more, you both burst into laughter while Hyunjin stumbles back and spills a mug filled with dirty paint water all over his floor.

The rest of the day goes by with you and Hyunjin painting together, a much broader array of colors and a much happier end result on the canvas: beautiful flowers painted by him standing alongside clumsily drawn hearts, stars, and other doodles painted by you. After signing your name above his elegant signature, you inform him the painting is leaving with you — it’s hanging up on your wall as soon as you arrive home.

Hyunjin is your best friend; it’s been this way for the last two years, and it’s indisputable to you that this fact will remain no matter what happens. As you watch him hunched over your painting, insisting that his flowers could be more detailed — even after you assured him a thousand times that they were perfect — you curse yourself for not realizing how beautiful this love between you two is. You hope he cherishes this love as well, in spite of his desire for the two of you to be together in the future. You know deep down this idea stemmed from his fear of solitude.

You’re not worried about him at all, though. He’s a precious soul, and anyone who fails to recognize that doesn’t deserve him. He’s simply getting rid of the wrong people in order to find the right person, someone who sees him as you do.

The love you feel for Hyunjin is unchanging, and if you had any say in it, it would be everlasting.

Your next Japanese class with Minho comes too soon, and you find yourself unprepared. Every trace of resolve you had after returning from your trip dissipated bit by bit every time you saw or talked to him. As soon as you saw his figure step into the coffee shop on Monday to pick up his usual order, you realized that every single scenario your mind had conjured up fell flat. Minho was beautiful, amazing, breathtaking — he deserved something grand and earth-shattering, not a simple answer from a girl who wasn’t even half as good as he was.

It certainly did not help that he, always true to his words, respected your time. Not once during his coffee trips or your never-ending talks through the phone did he mention the topic. And it was slowly but surely driving you insane.

You bite your lips so much on your way to university you’re sure your lipstick is gone by the time you enter the building, and you’re surprised your poor bag isn’t riddled with holes in the cloth from your insistent picking. You shouldn’t feel this nervous — Minho is the one waiting for an answer, after all. For all he knows, you could be simply building up the courage to let him down gently. But you are nervous. You’re terrified he will listen to your clumsy words and decide he deserves someone better. Or, worse yet, will only realize how undeserving of his love you are once you’re in a relationship.

And you don’t think you can face another heartbreak where you’re left to mend your gashes all alone.

You enter the building with shaky hands, fiddling with the strap of your bag and walking toward your classroom on autopilot as your mind is too busy running over all the ways in which this could go wrong.

All faded, however, once you saw Minho waiting for you in front of your classroom. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his phone, his body wrapped in a cozy-looking black sweater and sweatpants, a keychain of a cat plushie hanging from his backpack matching his phone case. You stop a few feet away from him. He deserves the world, and that terrifies you. Still, his presence alone melts away every ugly word of doubt and every piece of worry inside your body until the only thing you can feel is the swirling of that familiar pinwheel spinning inside your chest.

You greet him with a long hug, hoping he can’t feel your heart beating through your own sweater.

After class, he walks you to work, enthusiastically telling you about the progress he, Chan and Seungmin have made on their game. You nod and hum along to his words, but you can’t, for the life of you, focus on a word he’s saying. All you want to do is tell him you like him — god, you like him so much — but every time you’re close to doing it, the ugly words return and scream that he deserves more than an underwhelming confession on a gloomy, empty street.

You stop walking as you two reach the bench located just far away enough from the hustle and bustle of students on campus, the one where no one bothered you when you sat here by yourself for three years, the one that had oddly become your favorite bench among all the other identical ones scattered throughout your university.

Because it was here that you and Minho had your first real conversation, it was here where you two laughed and gasped at all the little coincidences between your lives, and it was here where you began to build a friendship with this wonderful guy who would unknowingly change you for the better.

It was the perfect place, and you berated yourself for not realizing that sooner.

Minho’s voice calling out your name pulls you away from your thoughts, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you gently toward his body. You hum before colliding against his chest as he chuckles.

“You just stopped walking,” he says, a lilt of confusion in his voice. “I know you hate work, but I didn’t think it was this serious.”

And when you properly turn to look at him, Minho is smiling so beautifully under the somber sky of winter, as if he is the embodiment of sunshine — always glistening and radiating such a comforting warmth no matter how glum the world around him is. And, at the sight of him, you just can’t stop your words. Never mind how gloomy this campus seems or how lackluster your words are — Minho’s presence alone makes everything become golden.

“I like you because you’re you,” you mirror his words at you, “Because you laughed in my face for spilling coffee all over your notebook when I didn’t even know you, because you love coffee just as much as I hate it, and because you believe in silly myths about riding paddle boats together,” You blurt out, words completely unbidden by your brain. Minho’s eyes widened for a beat before slowly turning into crescent moons as a smile spread across his lips. You take a deep breath before continuing, the words flowing out of you so quickly you’re worried he won’t be able to understand you, “And you opened my eyes to the love I feel for my friends, which I was so fucking stupid and blinded to. But, most importantly, you taught me that love isn’t bad. It can never be bad because you’re love, Minho. You’re full of love, and there’s not an ounce of anything bad in you. And you make me feel deserving of this love, even though I still don’t understand how I can be deserving of something so beautiful.”

Minho’s arms are pulling you into an embrace before you can process everything you said, and by the time you seem to come to your senses, you realize tears have welled up in your eyes. He holds you close to him silently for a while, his left hand delicately massaging your scalp as you clutch onto the fabric of his sweater as if he might be taken away from you if you let go.

“I like you, too,” he whispers against your hair, and you feel your lips contort into a pout.

“You already told me that,” you grumble. “I just word-vomited my feelings to you and this is all you have to say?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “What else is there to say? I like you so much I don’t think I can put it into words. I might just say something stupid if I talk about it too much.”

You furrow your brows, pulling away from his embrace to face him. “Something stupid like what?”

“Like saying I love you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Yet again, Minho has rendered you speechless. He shakes his head dismissively, a smile still etched onto his lips.

“No need to say anything. I told you it was stupid,” his eyes drift over to the bench beside you two, and his smile grows. “Guess this has to become my favorite bench too.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s cut short by your tears spilling out again. Minho quickly turns to look at you again, his expression shifting into a mixture of happiness and worry for you as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

And as the sun begins to set, the street lights flicker on, casting a warm, yellow glow over everything around you. You cup Minho’s face and press a chaste kiss to his lips, then to his nose, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into an embrace once again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love you yet. I’m sorry,” you apologize, both to him and yourself.

Minho simply hums, kissing your cheek. “I told you I’m patient, because love is patient. I would wait an eternity for the privilege of hearing you say you love me.”

You and Minho have officially been together for almost two months by the time winter break arrives. You’ve done everything couples do, except for two things: say I love you and go all the way. You’ve done every other possible thing — well, Minho has done every other possible thing to you, with you discovering that Minho particularly loves eating you out, often laying on your lap on your couch after work and rubbing his head against your thighs like a cat, humming and sighing until he has your attention before all but begging you to let him go down on you. Whenever you offer to do the same to him, in any way, he immediately turns the offer down, saying he’s satisfied just pleasuring you. It always leaves you with a million questions, as you notice him have to adjust himself in his pants or coincidently go to the bathroom, but you don’t question it.

The two of you also found ways to get around the whole L-word situation. I missed you becoming your go-to phrase for when you want to scream out that you love him, but are still unable to, while he usually just makes you swallow both your words and his own that are lingering inside your mouth with a kiss.

You had fallen into a routine quickly, with you visiting Minho most evenings after your shift to just lay on Chan’s stiff leather couch and watch him work. You two always hang out with his co-workers slash friends for a while before leaving for the night — Seungmin becoming like the pestering but loveable little brother you never had — and you head to your house in Minho’s car before you sneak him into your home so Mrs. Choi remains none the wiser.

Her ‘no boyfriends spending over two days at the house’ rule can’t possibly apply if she doesn’t even know Minho is there in the first place.

And so, he’s been basically living alongside you and your housemates. This outcome was almost inevitable since Minho hates his roommates while you love each other’s company.

You’re now packing your things with Hyunjin, who’s been sitting on your bed for the last half-hour rather than helping you as he’d promised. In the past month, he’s been able to come to terms with the fact that his ideal future with you was nothing but a coping mechanism after a month of sulking every time Minho was around. He deleted every shitty dating app on his phone and now focuses on finding love naturally, recently going out with a girl he met in one of his classes. The first time they met was the epitome of a meet-cute, with her accidentally bumping into him and spilling black paint all over his shirt. It brought back memories of when you first met Minho, and you had high hopes that this time things would work out differently for him. But, judging by the scowl on Hyunjin’s face and his nonstop complaining, you were wrong.

“But, be for real, why did it take her six dates to realize she doesn’t think we’ll work out?” He grumbles, spinning one of your necklaces around his finger like it’s a toy. “I paid for every meal, made sure she got at least two orgasms every time we went out, and she just suddenly decides we won’t work out? Fuck off.’’

You chuckle, closing your suitcase after triple-checking that you packed Minho’s Christmas present and walking over to where Hyunjin is sitting, snatching your necklace from his hand.

“Maybe she liked the free food and orgasms too much to let them go.”

Hyunjin scowls. “You’re saying that’s the only reason she went out with me?” He feigns offense, shaking his head. “I hope Minho’s parents hate your guts.”

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, watching as he bursts out laughing. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how nervous I am.”

“There’s no way they won’t like you,” He assures you, “You’re fucking amazing, not to mention their son loves you. That’s more than enough reason to love you too.”

You clutch the necklace in your hand, humming before turning on your heels to check your drawers for anything you might have missed. Hyunjin using the word love makes you a bit anxious, an unwelcome reminder that you still haven’t been able to overcome this stupid emotional blockage preventing you from telling Minho you love him. The first and only time you’d ever said you loved Minho was that evening at Hyunjin’s dorm, and it hadn’t even been directed at him. Without saying a word, you both understand the love that exists between you — it’s unspoken, but deeply felt — and you’re aware of that, but the fear that one day he’ll grow tired of waiting is painfully tangible inside your mind.

When Minho invited you to spend Christmas with his family, you hesitated at first. Meeting your ex-boyfriends’ families had never been so significant. You were a teenager at the time, the implications were different and the stakes didn’t seem as high. This time, it feels as if getting Minho’s parents to like you is indispensable. How will he go on dating a woman his parents deem unfit for him? Especially with how highly he speaks of his mother, you’re sure her opinion of you will weigh on his mind.

You can only hope they love you half as much as you love their son.

The car ride to Minho’s parents’ house was around half an hour.

Half an hour you spent picking at a loose thread on your skirt and overthinking so much your head ached by the time he parked the car. You hated how nervous you were, but Minho’s parents liking you was a non-negotiable.

After insisting on carrying your own suitcase — just in case his parents might think you’re an overbearing girlfriend if they see Minho carrying your bag for you — the two of you walk up the stairs and into his home. The first thing you notice is how cozy-looking everything is; from the family pictures neatly placed on coffee tables and on the walls, cat furniture and toys mixed in with their actual furniture, down to the fuzzy blankets thrown over the couches.

The second thing that catches your attention is the quietude permeating throughout the house, as well as the fact that the first family member to greet you two is an orange cat.

“Oh, did you miss me this much?” Minho asks in a sweet, singsong voice, similar to how you would speak to a baby. He crouches down to pet the cat, who is now entangling himself between his legs. He introduces you by your name, because Soonie is truly just another family member to him. You chuckle, kneeling next to him and carefully extending your hand toward the orange ball of fur.

“Hello, Soonie,” you speak quietly, afraid you’ll spook him. He eyes you carefully before sniffing your fingers and, ultimately, rubbing his head on your hand. You sigh in relief, petting his fur with a smile.

Minho’s cats liking you was also a non-negotiable.

You place your suitcases in Minho’s childhood bedroom, his parents letting him know they will arrive a little late after going Christmas shopping. Looking around his small room, you smile at all the small things that scream Lee Minho. The pictures of him and his friends back in high school are the first thing you notice, glued to the wall in front of his door lopsided. His thick-rimmed glasses and bowl cut make you smile as you analyze one of the pictures, where he and four other boys hug and smile widely in a karaoke room. Then, of course, his extensive plushie collection sat against a wall to your left — all stacked on top of each other like a mountain — which he proudly shows off to you.

“Y’know, I had to basically fight a little girl at the Sanrio store for this one,” he says, a bit too smugly, while holding a plush of Kuromi dressed in a ladybug costume. “I was sixteen, though, so I think that excuses my behavior. I would never do that nowadays.”

You narrow your eyes, humming skeptically. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Minho just chuckles, meticulously placing the doll back in its place beside the cherry on top of a rather large Pusheen pudding plushie.

“Oh! You have to see my books.” He takes your hand in his, dragging you toward the wall facing his bed. A bookshelf expanding from the floor to the ceiling makes your mouth drop. You hadn’t noticed it before, with it being hidden away in the corner of the room. The bookshelf is decorated with fairy lights — which Minho promptly switches on — and filled with beautiful books, from intricately designed hard covers to intricate sprayed edges, every single book in his collection has something special about it.

He uses a small metal ladder to reach the top of the shelves before handing you a book so thick your wrist almost bends upon grabbing it. It’s a collection of seven Jane Austen novels, all in a gorgeous blue and golden hardcover. You eye the book like it’s a precious jewel, carefully running your fingers over the details engraved on the cover. Beside you, Minho lets out a breathy laugh, stepping down from the ladder and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“You can open it,” he tells you, but you’re still too mesmerized by the book to look at him. “It’s what books are for, whether they’re pretty or not. You have to open it and read it, otherwise they lose their purpose.”

You nod slowly, but remain unmoving. Minho’s hand suddenly rests on top of yours, and he opens the book for you. The page is entirely annotated, with highlighters and thoughts jotted down on pencil in messy handwriting. Looking up at him, you are met by his smile.

“See? The book is fine, the world didn’t end. I have these special editions because I enjoy collecting pretty things, but I always read them,” he explains, “I like when books reflect the emotions I felt while reading them. I annotate, scribble, highlight — I once threw a special edition Stephen King book across the living room and into a wall. There’s an indentation on it till this day.”

You gasp. “Minho, what the fuck?”

He shrugs dismissively. “I know, I know. All book sins in the eyes of many people. But, like I said, that just reflects the emotions I felt while reading that book. I look through any of these pages and I know exactly what I felt at that time of my life.”

You nod, your lips absentmindedly curling into a smile. Minho truly is something else. You skim the page opened before you, reading some of his annotations and laughing quietly to yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

As you close the book, he speaks again, “They’re a bit like people, aren’t they? Pretty and put-together on the outside, but once you really dig in, it’s all a mess and cluster of feelings and passion.”

You and Minho spend an hour lounging around the living room, with you meeting his other two cats during that time. Soonie and Doongie’s adoration toward Minho is clear, with both orange cats always rubbing against his leg or tangling themselves in his sneakers by the door as you two cuddle on the couch. Dori, however, remains laid on his cat tree, barely sparing the two of you a glance. Minho jokes that Dori hates him after he left his first mom, even showing you further proof in the form of a video where the gray cat bites his nose while he sleeps.

Upon hearing the key turn on the front door, your heart is quick to jump. Minho’s parents have arrived.

Sitting up on the couch, you gently push Minho away from you. He shoots you a questioning look.

“What? I don’t want them to think we were doing something indecent.”

“Indecent?” Minho repeats with a chuckle. “We were cuddling, not consummating a marriage on this couch.”

You grumble incoherent words under your breath, shrugging. “I know. I just want them to like me.”

“They were more than okay with seeing me cuddle my ex when I was a teen. We’re both adults, I’m pretty sure they won’t think you’re a filthy harlot.”

You gasp, hitting his chest and hissing through your teeth. “A harlot?”

Minho lets out a long, hearty laugh just as his parents walk through the door.

“Oh, there you are!” You hear his mother’s voice call out as soon as she steps inside the living room. You turn to face her and you’re greeted by the same smile you see on Minho’s face every day — they look so similar you have to hold back a gasp. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You stand up from the couch and smooth down your long skirt, smiling while she walks toward you. You’re caught off guard when she pulls you into a hug as soon as she’s in front of you, her arms squeezing you as she sighs happily into your hair.

“Mom,” Minho calls out, “You’re scaring her.”

His mom pulls away with a chuckle, her left hand pinching her son’s cheek before resting on your shoulder again. “He’s the one who’s scared I’ll embarrass him,” she refutes. “And, god, you’re so pretty! Minho told me you were beautiful, but I just assumed it was the infatuation speaking.”

You feel your cheeks flush at her words, biting back a smile. Minho had talked to his mother about you — had said you were beautiful. You swear if you died tonight, you would die a happy woman.

As his mother steps away from you and into the kitchen, rambling on about how crowded the shopping mall had been, a man comes into your field of vision. He nods courtly before extending his hand, which you shake a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Minho’s dad,” he simply says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Minho has been very happy on the phone since meeting you.”

And with that, he’s off into the kitchen, following his wife. You’re left a bit dazed. Minho truly was a perfect blend of his mother’s appearance and his father’s calm personality.

Beside you, Minho pulls you into a side hug, his chilly hands caressing your arms. “See? It’s impossible not to love you.”

You freeze for a moment, before relaxing as you realize he’s talking about his parents loving you. You curse yourself inwardly for being so damn emotionally constipated, but let out a sigh of relief nonetheless.

You were worried for so many different reasons — that you wouldn’t measure up to Minho’s first girlfriend, that your personality would be scrutinized until your flaws finally emerged, and that this would be the catalyst for Minho to realize you’re not worth it. Not worth waiting until you can tell him you love him, not worth waiting until you feel like sex isn’t going to just ruin everything between you, not worth the hassle and the chore that is loving someone like you.

But as he walks into the kitchen with you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, like he’s proud to show you off to his parents, the level of reliability he radiates is enough to melt away all the annoying little worries you had inside your head.

Christmas eve comes two days later, and you’re rudely woken up in the morning by the sound of Minho’s voice cursing under his breath as he drops something on the floor by his bed. You groan, rubbing your eyes, and he turns to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kneeling down next to the bed and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight, I think.” His fingers brush your hair away from your face. “I didn’t set an alarm ‘cause I didn’t wanna wake you up, but guess my inability to be quiet did that anyway.”

You chuckle lightly, scrunching up your nose. “Why are you up so early?”

“Gotta start cooking dinner soon,” he explains.

“Already?” You ask, perplexed. You knew he cooked Christmas dinner all by himself every year for his family, but you never conceived just how much work that would be for a single person.

Minho is unyielding despite your best efforts at persuading him to stay and cuddle you for a few more hours, and watching him cook is always oddly attractive to you, so you find yourself joining him in the kitchen, wrapped up in one of his many cat print sweaters.

At first, you simply sit up at one of the counters and watch him, mesmerized and all but drooling at the way he rolls up his sleeves, the prominent veins making his arms look so sexy while doing such a mundane thing like chopping fucking vegetables. Not to mention his hands, so beautiful and big as he rubs the seasoning on something you don’t even care to identify because you’re just too busy thinking about those hands all over your body. Only now do you notice how no real sex for almost two months has really taken a toll on you, what with the way you have to cross your legs just to try and relieve some tension because your mind won’t stop thinking about Minho’s veiny arms caging you against this counter and his big hands—

Minho calls out your name, and you snap out of your fantasies, humming as you reluctantly turn your attention toward his face with a dazed expression. He seems to find it funny, as he chuckles before repeating himself, “I asked if you would like to help. I can teach you some of the easy stuff. Must be boring just sitting there and watching.”

Oh, but it isn’t boring at all.

But you’d never tell him that, so you nod before hopping off the counter and awaiting further instructions. Turns out you’re worse at cooking than you had thought, so you’re relegated to chopping duty, which you hate for two reasons — firstly, chopping vegetables is boring, and secondly, you’re now deprived of your view of Minho as you stand with your back turned to him while he cooks.

It’s around five p.m. when Minho’s mom joins you two in the kitchen, and by that time you’ve done all you could, so you’re back to your spot on the counter. She smiles at you before ruffling Minho’s hair as he closes the oven.

“My baby is such a wonderful cook, isn’t he?” she praises, and he shrugs with a smirk.

“I am very boyfriend material, aren’t I?”

You chuckle as you watch his mom carefully fixing his hair which she had messed up, Minho scrunching up his face as she then fixes his wire-frame glasses on his nose.

“I’m so glad you’re wearing your glasses again,” she comments, cupping his cheeks and squeezing before letting go. “You look so handsome.”

“You should thank her,” Minho smiles, turning to look at you, and you shoot him a puzzling look. “Remember on your birthday, when you told me I looked good wearing glasses?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “That’s why I stopped wearing contacts.”

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the words to answer him. You can feel your cheeks dusting pink as his mom coos at the two of you, saying something about young love that has you gnawing on your lips to hold back the silly smile you want to let out.

Minho’s mom leaves the kitchen shortly after, his father calling her from the living room. He takes this as his chance to approach where you’re sitting, hands resting on your thighs before he presses his lips against yours.

“I wanted to look handsome for you. It’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He chuckles against your lips, and you simply shake your head, tangling your fingers in his black hair that has now grown past his eyes.

“It’s actually fucking adorable,” you assure him, pulling him into another kiss, one much deeper than the last.

He quickly uses his hands to spread your thighs apart, pressing his body into yours as you wrap your legs around his waist. The effect this man has on you is mindboggling; the mere slide of his tongue against your lips has you shivering. It certainly doesn’t help that you are now in the exact position from your imagination earlier today.

Minho always tasted like your own personal favorite flavor, always deliciously swirling on your tongue whenever you kissed him. He always renders your mind fuzzy and silly as bliss consumes the entirety of your being. You can only imagine how sex with him will feel like, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your worries be damned. You needed him more than you could handle.

But just as Minho pulls you closer to his body — your core dangerously close to his crotch, and sucking on your tongue in a way that has you mewling against his lips — his mother calls out your names, and you two quickly separate, startled as if you were burned. She informs you his grandmother has arrived and you two walk to the living room to greet her. You silently thank the universe for her not walking into the kitchen; the last thing you want is for Minho’s poor grandmother to catch you two making out on the counter like two teenagers.

She is a sweet lady, certainly not as old as you expected her to be, and she always has a smile etched onto her lips stained with red lipstick. You don’t even have to ask to know she is his mother’s mom, as the three of them share the exact same smile you grew to love so much.

You find yourself even more comfortable today, as you help both women set up the table for dinner — his grandma meticulously placing a beautiful lace cloth over the table while telling you about how this was one of her late husband’s first gifts to her when they first moved in together.

It felt as if you were part of the family.

And as you turn on your heels to grab the fancy silverware from a cabinet, your eyes meet Minho’s gaze. With a smile on his face, he stands by the kitchen door, watching you, and your heart swells with joy.

This was everything you never thought love could be.

Christmas dinner was amazing — as you knew it would be. Minho’s cooking is always fantastic, and pure happiness is written all over his face whenever he was complimented. The way he offers to serve everyone, watching intently as each of you took the first bite before he finally allowed himself to eat as well, his lips upturned into a grin and his ears red as you all hummed and gasped at how tasty everything was. It’s his love language; from the way he carefully and methodically prepares the food, to the way he enjoys watching other people eat more than eating himself. He shows his love through his cooking, you realize, and you smile as you think back to numerous times you woke up in the morning with a beautiful table set with breakfast for you after he spent the night at your house.

You haven’t put it into words yet, but he has unquestionably been showing his love for you through his little actions.

And that’s what you want to do tonight as well.

After watching a cliche Christmas movie with his family, you two are now the only ones awake with you drying off the dishes Minho’s washing. He looks beautiful even now, with his hands clad in neon green dishwashing gloves.

“Minho,” you call out, poking his rib with the plate he just handed you. He squirms with a giggle, warning you to not tickle him. You simply hum, continuing as nonchalantly as you can. “Do you wanna have sex tonight?”

His hand stills, dropping a knife on the sink as his head turns abruptly to look at you, eyes bewildered. “What? What, and you ask me this now? While we’re doing the dishes?” He sputters, and you grin with a shrug.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, placing the plate on top of the counter. “I just… really wanna do it. Really want you.”

Minho turns off the tap — at least five knives left ignored at the bottom of the sink — removes his gloves and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, not what I expected to happen on Christmas night, but I’ll take it.”

You both stare at each other for a beat, before inexplicably bursting out laughing. Maybe it’s the sheer suddenness of your request, or the absurdity of the situation you were in when it happened, but you can’t help it.

As you both calm down, Minho pulls you into his arms and informs you that he will have to go out and buy condoms, since he truly wasn’t expecting anything to happen. You don’t fault him, the two months you’ve been together were filled with you all but running away from sex. You couldn’t help it, your brain always dragging you back to that night in Japan, and the way he avoided your gaze in the morning. Although you knew it was irrational, and that he was simply shy, your self-sabotaging skills were too great, and your mind insisted that if you had sex with Minho too soon he would think you were nothing but a slut. That’s what you were told most of your life, anyway, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your brain was almost conditioned into assuming the same.

But Minho had proved time and time again that he was not like the awful guys before him, and that all your worrying was unwarranted and foolish. You were depriving yourself of something you wanted badly out of sheer insecurity and attachment to experiences so far in the past it was almost masochistic at this point.

You insist on joining him on his impromptu trip to the convenience store, only throwing one of his sweaters over the dress and tights you wore for Christmas dinner.

Minho holds your hand as you two walk down the empty street, Christmas lights from the houses and stores making everything seem almost like a movie. You spot the familiar logo from across the street, and Minho bumps his shoulder with you while you head toward the convenience store chain where you both once worked.

“This is actually the exact one I used to work at,” He tells you as you look through a fridge hidden away in the back of the store. “I loved working the graveyard shift. I rang up so many couples awkwardly buying condoms like they were buying hard drugs.”

You chuckle, settling for some pudding you two could share later. “Will that be us tonight?”

He shrugs. “We’re adults, it’s normal to buy these things. Unless you want me to act like I’m buying crack cocaine, then I’d be happy to indulge you.”

You stick your tongue out at him with a light shove, turning to look through the rather lacking options on the condom shelf.

“Grape flavor?” Minho makes a face as he eyes one of the boxes. “Who the fuck would want the artificial taste of grapes when fucking?”

You shrug. “Could be worse, imagine banana-flavored condoms. I think I’d throw up all over your dick.”

“That’s sexy,” He jokes, and you let out a loud chuckle, earning you a look from the only other person at the store this time of night on Christmas eve.

Among your other options are a green glow-in-the-dark condom — which would only make you think of Shrek while Minho fucks you — and a strawberry-flavored one. You decide to play it safe, grabbing a box of plain, thin condoms and placing them in the basket Minho’s carrying.

“Let’s just go for the safest option,” you tell him, “We’ll have plenty of time to play around later if you want, though I’ll go on birth control once we’re back home so we won’t even need them anyway.”

You watch as Minho’s eyes widen for a second, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Don’t short-circuit now. I need you functioning to fuck me.”

“Keep saying shit like that and I’ll be broken before we even make it back to my house,” he states matter-of-factly, and you chuckle, shaking your head at his words. But Minho’s expression remains unchanged. “I mean it. It’s been over a year since I’ve had proper sex. I’m surprised I didn’t combust the second you said those words to me in the kitchen.”

With a chuckle, you pull him to your side and walk toward the cashier. It’s a poor teenage boy, no older than eighteen, clearly bored out of his mind and wishing to be anywhere but here. As he rings up your items, Minho points to his phone that’s resting on the counter.

“That’s Ahri from League of Legends, right?” He asks, and the boy looks up, his eyes sparking with interest. He nods. “I don’t play, but I’m a game programmer, so I know a little bit about it. What’s your rank?”

“Grandmaster,” the boy answers proudly, his face lighting up with a hint of joy, probably for the first time since his shift started.

“Oohh,” Minho gasps loudly, basically hyping up this random boy at the convenience store. You watch the interaction with a silly smile on your face. “And you’re still young, wouldn’t be surprised to see you at World’s someday.”

The boy shakes his head dismissively as Minho hands him his card, but smiles nonetheless. Once he hands you your things, he speaks again, “Are you from around here, hyung? Let me know when you have a game out, I’d love to try it. See if you’re any good.”

Minho raises his brows at the obvious teasing lilt in his voice, lips upturning into a grin. “How about this? I’ll give you the beta code and you can start your career of testing games for money.”

“You’ll pay me?” The cashier marvels at the words, and Minho simply nods. He jots down a code from his phone into a scrap piece of paper on the counter, the boy’s face now a complete shift from the expression he wore when you first walked in, all because of Minho and his ability to be kind and sweet no matter the person or circumstance.

As you head back to his house, only the two of walk along the shy streets as the clock hands turn past midnight. Among all the bad people in this world, you’re indescribably happy that a man as good as him is the one walking beside you down this street, firmly holding your hand.

You arrive home and quietly head straight into Minho’s room. You thank any higher power that might exist for the fact that his room is the only one on the first floor, as you would have to endure your desperate need and desire for him until you got home if it wasn’t. Any of Minho’s family members walking in or hearing you two have sex would make you want to flee the country and change your name.

He joins you after storing your puddings in the fridge, making you jump with his arms wrapped around your waist while you were blankly staring at the pictures on his wall. You sigh, the realization of what was going to happen only really dawning on you now that you stand in Minho’s bedroom, and your mind starts to wander and doubt everything all over again.

“I kind of ruined the mood by asking to have sex, didn’t I?” You ask as Minho places a chaste kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“There was really no mood in the first place,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “We were washing the dishes.”

You roll your eyes, once again more annoyed at yourself than at him. You could only hope that your awful propensity of bringing up these irritating thoughts of yours at the worst possible moments didn’t drive Minho away from you. Could only hope you were worth it in the end.

“I know, it’s just…” You trail off with another heavy sigh. “This guy I dated hated that. Said I should just initiate it instead of asking like it was a business transaction.”

You feel Minho shake his head. “That’s stupid. Why would I think that?” He sounds incredulous, and hearing him say it makes you realize just how asinine that thought really was. “We had to buy condoms, anyway. It’s also good that you’re comfortable asking me that. It’s as it should be.”

And you can only smile, biting back a giggle because of course he thinks that. It’s as if Jane Austen came back from the dead simply to write Lee Minho.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you turn your head to look at him. “You should really stop thinking about… them,” He hesitates, “Your exes, I mean. Stop comparing, assuming everything will be the same and have the same sad ending. You need to let go of that in order to truly heal. I hate how every time I’m good to you, or do the bare fucking minimum, your mind spins it into something being your fault. I hate what they did to you so much.”

You feel your breath get caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill much like they do every time you are faced with this topic. But you hold them in. You don’t want to cry, not right now, not when everything is so perfect with Minho. So, instead, you take in his words. He’s undoubtedly right, and you must force yourself to face this uncomfortable truth.

Slowly, you promise yourself. You smile at him, a silent promise to him, and you know he understands you when he smiles back, his lips pressing a kiss to your lips.

He lets go of you and rummages through his drawers, and you look around once more. His plushie mountain, the pictures of his childhood and high school days. You scrunch up your nose.

“Will it be too weird to have sex in your childhood bedroom?”

From where you’re standing, his back turned to you, you can faintly make out the tip of his ears turning red as he runs a finger through his hair.

“Well, not really…” He trails off, “I had sex with my ex-girlfriend here all the time when we skipped school together.”

You let out a gasp. “Lee Minho skipped school?”

He chuckles, closing his drawers and immediately wrapping his arms around you. He’s a lot more touchy since you brought this whole topic up, you notice.

“My parents were always at work, though, so this is my first time doing it while they’re right upstairs,” He explains, bringing his finger up to your lips and lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “So we’ll have to be quiet.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, nodding. You know all too well you’ll probably be too quiet. Once again your trauma playing a part in this, the words an old boyfriend harshly spilled about you being too loud and vocal have always been present in your head. Now that you think about it, all these moments and words are like post-it notes stuck to your mind, and you skim through like a student cramming for an exam every day in search of one that applies to your current situation. It was excruciating.

Hyunjin tried his best to change this about you, always assuring you he liked to hear you during sex when he noticed your pursed and bitten lips, and that you should be vocal about what you want and like. But you always settled for nods and quiet hums instead.

Minho presses a quick kiss on your forehead then. “I’m gonna shower ‘cause my hands still smell like onions and garlic after washing them a thousand times,” he tells you. “I’ll be right back.”

As you’re busying yourself looking through Minho’s extensive collection of books, a meow pulls your attention toward the door. It’s Dori, the gray cat you’ve decided is your favorite since it’s the only one you can easily recognize. He stares for a beat before approaching you, and you kneel carefully to stroke his soft fur. You soon find yourself sitting down by the bed with Dori on your lap, purring away as your mind travels to a future in which you and Minho adopt cats of your own, all while living together and making plans for the rest of your lives. It terrifies you slightly to allow yourself to have these thoughts because if things were to go wrong with Minho, this would only be another ‘what if’ that would haunt you.

Another post-it note to your already cluttered-up mind.

But his words from earlier come back to you just as you begin to panic. You have to let go of the past and stop assuming only the worst outcomes are attainable. And so you simply smile at the imagination, letting your mind run wild while Dori falls asleep on your lap, his gray fur all over your red dress.

You and Dori both jump as Minho all but slams the door when he returns, a towel in his hand drying his damp hair. He cringes at the sound, cursing under his breath. Dori leaves your lap, and you stand up with a pout. He definitely is your favorite cat among the three.

“Sorry,” Minho whispers, as if that will compensate for the loud noise. You take in his appearance; a green Christmas sweater and bright red sweatpants. You bite back a smile, because that’s so him.

“Your outfit is doing a great job of seducing me,” you jest, and he shrugs with a cocky grin.

“I know no woman can resist a Christmas sweater.”

He pulls you into him with a hand around your waist, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. You notice he’s more frantic, less careful than he usually is, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as his hands slide up your back. He pulls away, breathless and flushed, and just looks at you for a moment. You can see the shift in his eyes, yearning swimming all over his brown orbs.

Clumsily, he shuts off the lights behind him then switches on the fairy lights adorning his bookshelf, his left hand still firmly clutching your body. Until it suddenly loosens, and you cock your head to the side.

“Okay, you gotta leave,” he says, and you follow his gaze, landing on Dori, who stares up at him almost defiantly. Minho lets out a sigh, opening his door before walking toward the cat and motioning toward the exit as if he will understand him. “Come on, I’ll give you treats later, hm? But you need to leave now, Dori.”

You fail to hold back a chuckle. “Why does the poor baby have to leave? He looks so comfortable snuggled up on the floor.”

“I can’t have sex while Dori watches,” he deadpans as if it were an obvious answer. “It’ll be weird.”

“Minho, it’s a cat. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s still weird! And I…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. He’s still facing the door when he blurts out, “I told you, I’m already really fucking nervous ‘cause it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I might not be the best.”

You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Minho, that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is!” He finally turns to face you. “Remember back in Japan? I came too fast, it was embarrassing. That’s why I never let you touch me.”

You jokingly pout at him. “Thought you just liked eating me out.”

“I fucking love eating you out, but I’m not exactly refusing that you do the same because I want to,” he explains, “I’m just scared I’ll be bad at it.”

You furrow your brows. “Bad at… getting a blowjob?”

Minho’s ears are dusted a light pink, and he throws his hands up. “Well, yes! Back in Japan I didn’t even know what to do with my hands. I don’t know what you like, and I haven’t been with anyone else to know what most people like so…” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck, I was so nervous that night, you have no idea.”

“You were nervous?” You let out a huff, recalling Minho’s clear shift in demeanor that night. “Looking into my eyes the entire time and pinning me down to the bed, that’s you being nervous?”

His entire face now flushes red, and he returns his gaze toward the door, where Dori paddles out of the room graciously. He promptly shuts the door, locking it this time.

“I was nervous,” He tells you, taking a step toward you. “I kept looking at you ‘cause I couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Felt like you were gonna disappear if I looked away,” His hands cup your face gently, and your lips unknowingly curl into a smile. “And when you looked at me in the morning, all I could think about was how awful I was the night before.”

You have to fight the strong urge to laugh because god, that’s why he was acting shy and avoiding your gaze. You berate yourself for even thinking otherwise, for ever assuming Minho could be like your ex-boyfriends. His words ring even more true than before.

You let out a groan, realizing you two have been putting off having sex for such mindless reasons. When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you simply say, “Minho, we’re both fucking idiots, d’you know that?”

And before he can say anything else or even entertain the idea of overthinking any more, you pull him into a kiss. With a surprised hum, Minho gently pushes you back, and your knees meet the softness of the mattress causing you to fall back into his bed. He climbs on top of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“You still gotta tell me what you like,” he repeats, his lips all but pouting at you. You smile up at him.

“No,” you say simply, pushing his hair back with your fingers as it fell into his eyes. “It’s better if we figure that out together, isn’t it?”

Minho chuckles, promptly pressing his lips to yours, your hand tugging at his hair gently as his tongue glides across your lips, causing a soft whine to slip from your throat before you can stop it.

“I like that,” he says between kisses, “When you make these pretty noises.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words and take that as your chance to take the first small step in healing, adding a post-it to your mind, reminding you not to suppress any noise that Minho coaxes out of you tonight.

The atmosphere in his room feels perfect — like heaven, as he would say. The soft yellow glow emanating from his bookshelf made everything seem dreamy; his honey skin looked stunning, and his eyes gleamed like the stars in the sky every time they met yours.

It was undoubtedly so much more intimate and passionate than any other time you had sex before, and you were both still fully clothed.

It was just like what Minho had told you many months ago.

His hands travel through your body until they rest on your back, finding the buttons of your dress, slowly opening each one as his lips trail down your neck, softly sucking on the skin. As he gingerly slides your dress down your torso, you realize that this will be the first time you two see each other naked. Yet, you don’t feel nervous. You want nothing more than to be close to him, with no barriers between you, to finally be tangled with him like the roots on the ground.

Minho unclasps your bra, his gaze unmoving from your chest as he slips the garment off of your skin and drops it on the floor. It’s almost as if you can feel his gaze burning you, your chest tightening and your breath hitching in your throat. He licks his lips, leaning down to wrap them around your nipple, his hand promptly finding your other breast and softly massaging it. You let out a choked gasp, tugging at his hair.

You feel his lips stretch into a smile before he softly bites the bud.

“So you like this,” He mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to your nipple. “Duly noted.”

You giggle at his words, your hands tangling in his hair once more. His kisses travel up again, from your chest to your neck, until he’s back to kissing your lips. Both of his hands now massage your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his rough fingers and pinching them lightly, causing a rush to spread across your entire body. You feel your arousal trickle down your slit as you grow more desperate.

“Minho,” you call out between kisses, and he hums against your lips. “Do something,” you all but beg him, yearning for some release as you feel the small, unrelenting pulse between your thighs grow stronger with each stroke of his finger across your chest. Your hands now grasp at his sweater, tugging it over his head, the fabric also discarded somewhere on the floor of his room.

Your hands travel over the expanse of his chest, fingertips taking in every inch of his soft skin. Breaking away from his lips, you push him back softly so you can revel in the sight of him; his delicate collar bones, his strong arms, and soft stomach. He’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, and you don’t know what you did to be deserving of him.

“Enjoying the view?” He jokes, and you breathe out a laugh, your gaze flying up toward his face — his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed a pretty red.

“Minho, you’re so beautiful,” you whisper absentmindedly, and he smiles at you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“You should see how you look,” he whispers.

His left hand soon slips underneath your dress skirt, fingertips grazing your skin over your tights. You feel goosebumps trickle along your thighs following his every touch, so eager to feel his hands on your skin you’re sure you’ll rip your tights in half yourself if Minho doesn’t get rid of them soon.

He seems to grow as impatient as you, lifting your hips with a strong grip to slide down your dress, tights, and panties off of you all in one go. In no time, you are now laid bare before him, and Minho is swift to trail kisses down your stomach, sloppy and messy, painting your skin with his saliva as his mouth waters at the mere prospect of tasting you.

With a heavy sigh, he stares at your glistening wetness before promptly wrapping his lips around your clit without a warning and sucking, ardently, vulgar sounds filling his small room much like they do every time he eats you out. Always messy, always eager, humming against your pussy and sighing as his eyes glaze over with pure want.

You squirm like lighting has shocked through your entire body. No matter how often you experience the satisfaction of Minho’s lips on you, it always leaves you trembling like it’s the first time. His right hand slides up the expanse of your stomach until it reaches your breast again, his thumb lazily circling your nipple. You purse your lips as his fingers tentatively trail across your folds, spreading your wetness up to your clit before lapping at it slowly, the small bud swollen and aching.

You’re quick to remember to open your mouth, letting out the heavy sigh that had stuck to your throat as his finger enters you, Minho still licking and sucking your sensitive clit, nipping harshly and making your sigh fade into a whine. Hand tangling in his hair and tugging, you elicit a low groan from his throat, which you feel reverberate through your slick folds.

Your thighs shake as he adds a second finger, and soon a third, thrusting them inside of you and stroking your walls more vigorously than he usually does, as if he somehow also feels your pleasure and needs to lead you to your high as quickly as possible.

Minho’s hand leaves your chest, and you bite back a pout, his fingers now gripping your hips before pushing them up so he can reach deeper. It isn’t long before his fingers drag across the spot inside of you that has your muscles tensing up, a strangled moan falling from your lips at the sensations coupled with the unrelenting feeling of his tongue on your clit. You come undone around his fingers and lips with a harsh tug of his black hair, rutting your hips against his face desperately, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you do.

He laps up your juices as you slowly come down from your high, tongue flicking inside of you and sucking hard before he presses a long kiss to your cunt. Your entire body jerks in response to the overstimulation.

His kisses travel toward your inner thigh, your lower stomach and breasts until he reaches your neck, where his teeth nip at the soft skin, sucking harshly before his tongue soothingly licks at the spot. As Minho positions himself between your thighs again, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind goes hazy for a beat as you feel the thick outline of his cock press against your bare core.

“Minho,” you call out again, your voice significantly more whiny this time around, shaky and breathless, “Wanna taste you.”

He groans against your skin, pressing small kisses up your neck until he ultimately stops against your open lips. He breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Really want that, too,” he rasps out, voice hoarse as his dark eyes travel across your face. “But I really wanna fuck you. Shit, I need to fuck you so badly you have no idea,” He groans. You feel his length jump at his words as he presses your foreheads together and locks his gaze with you. “That’ll be hard to do if your pretty lips go anywhere near my cock.”

You breathe out a chuckle, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Then get to it,” you simply say.

Minho’s lips curl into a grin. “Will you remember to be quiet for me this time? My baby sounded so pretty coming around my fingers.”

Your cheeks flush, just how loud you were before only now dawning on you. Fuck. Your words get stuck to your throat, your mouth opening but making no sound, so you settle for a nod.

He chuckles. “Good,” he replies with a kiss to your agape lips.

Minho sits up, detangling himself from your body briefly. He reaches for the box on his bedside table, scrambling with the cardboard before clumsily tearing it open and retrieving a condom. It’s only then you notice how his hands are trembling, from nervousness or pure lust. Either way, you find yourself smiling at the sight.

You reach out to run a hand along his arm soothingly, watching with hungry eyes as he tugs at his drawstrings before freeing his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. Minho hisses as he rolls the rubber over his length, shaky hands stroking himself one, two, three times, all while you eye him, watching greedily as if you were his own personal captive audience.

He lowers himself once again, hand now sliding across the length of your thigh before gripping the flesh, nails digging into your skin as he eyes you with an almost pleading gaze.

“Can I—”

“Please do,” you answer, almost frantically, before he even has the time to assume you might say no. You inch your thighs apart even more so Minho can slot himself perfectly between them.

Your mouth waters as you catch sight of him gripping his cock once more, tapping it against your swollen clit and eliciting a whine from your lips as your hands scramble to find purchase in his strong arms. Minho’s eyes then find yours much like they did back in Japan, and you know you are done for. His dark gaze once again felt all-consuming — desire and adoration swimming along his brown eyes, looking at you as if he were in a daze. Your grip on his arms tightens as he lazily slides his cock up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your arousal. Minho’s lips fall open as he continues his movements, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your folds almost painfully slow.

He leans in to close the small gap between your lips, before whispering something you can’t quite understand against them.

“I fucking love you,” he repeats himself more clearly, and finally pushes forward, his girth pushing into you as you gasp, feeling as if all the air has been stolen from you.

You aren’t sure if your reaction is due to his words, or the way his cock is working you open so good, or maybe it was a delicious blend of the two. All you know at the moment is Minho, Minho, Minho, your mind foggy as his name rings inside your head like a mantra.

“Don’t gotta say anything back,” he tells you in a breathy voice, “Just want you to know I love— Fuck,” he groans as he is now fully sheathed inside of you, and you clench at both the feeling and the words spilling from his lips. Of course he would choose now to tell you he loved you. “Love you so much, so much I’d do anything for you. Would wage a war with the world if you asked me to…” He babbles, words slipping past his lips like they were the easiest thing for him to say. Like he meant it so deeply, he didn’t have to put any thought into it. His words only die as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Minho pulls his hips back in one swift motion, hands lifting your thighs around his body as he thrusts into you, evoking a rather loud noise from the back of your throat which is smothered by his kiss.

“You take me so well,” he growls against your lips, “We fit perfectly.” He breaks the kiss to look down at where your two bodies are connected. It felt as if you were one, melting into each other little by little the more Minho thrust his cock inside of you. You simply nod, mind even more dizzy with the way he’s already pulling out again before slamming back into you, his pace quickening as he presses you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his skin, crescent moon shapes blooming over the expanse of his honey skin. His eyes still bore into you, hips now thrusting at an unrelenting pace, his small room filled with a cacophony of wet sounds, whines tumbling from your parted lips and curses that almost silently fell from his.

“Gonna come soon,” Minho chokes out, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’m sorry, I—”

You silence him with a press of your lips, hands now tangling in his messy hair.

“You’re always so good to me,” you tell him, feeling his cock pulse inside of your walls. “Wanna be good to you too, make you feel good.”

And he simply leans down before kissing you reverently. The sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the creaking of his bed likely much too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least not at the moment. Not with the way his hand snakes along your hips, rough fingers now rolling delicious circles around your clit while his other palm presses down onto your abdomen, and his cock continuously hits a spot inside of you that has you all but crumbling apart underneath him.

Your mouth falls open, breaking the kiss, his cock twitching inside of you as his body stills on top of you. With furrowed brows and agape lips, Minho comes mere seconds before you reach your high as well, toes curling against his back as you melt onto his cock.

You stay that way for a while — a few seconds, maybe minutes — simply looking at each other as your labored breaths intertwine.

You finally reach up, brushing his dampened hair away from his beautiful eyes that now look at you as if you were the sole reason why the stars sparkle. Minho’s fingers soon find yours, tangling together as he brings your hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You smile.

You love him.

It’s not a realization but rather a confirmation of something you’ve already known all too well and for far too long. You still can’t put it into words, but somehow, you are certain that he knows just as well.

Minho accidentally awoke you in the morning with his habit of slamming his door shut, apologizing as you grumbled at him and insisted you would only accept his apology if he let you give him a blowjob. He laughed, simply pulling you closer to him on the bed as he sat up and you finally gave the most beautiful man you had ever met the head he deserved.

Minho’s parents and grandmother had left to eat at a fancy restaurant, and after lying through his teeth and telling his very distraught mother that you were feeling too sick to leave the bed, you two stayed behind. They didn’t have to know the real reason you couldn’t leave the bed — Minho and his apparent insatiable hunger for you. It was as if something had been awoken inside him now that he had a taste of you, and he had to make up for all the lost time.

You two only leave his room late in the afternoon, the sun setting on the pale winter sky outside his bedroom window. His family would arrive soon, and you needed to get ready for their tradition of opening Christmas presents while watching bad holiday movies.

When Minho followed you when you headed toward the bathroom, you thought little of it. It was only when he began undressing alongside you that panic truly set in.

“We literally had sex, why do you sound so horrified?” Was all he offered you when you asked what he was doing before entering the steamy shower with you.

It was your first time showering with someone, and the fact that it made you so nervous felt almost pathetic. Minho was right; you had sex, and you saw each other naked and sweaty and vulnerable. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it was.

You found yourself too awkward to wash yourself, doing a terrible job at pretending to scrub at your arms as you watched Minho shower like a normal person. He let out a chuckle after rinsing his hair, shaking his head.

“Are you seriously shy? Seriously?” He asked, turning your body around so your back faced him. “The girl who begged to suck my cock just this morning is too shy to shower in front of me?”

You opened your lips to refute him, but your words died in your mouth as you felt Minho’s hand spread shampoo all over your hair. His fingers gently massaged your scalp before placing his hand over your eyes to shield them from the foam as he rinsed your hair. He repeated the process with conditioner, then moved on to wash your body with his almost sickly sweet watermelon body wash. He did it all while humming, making you so relaxed and comfortable that all your silly insecurities dissipated in the air along with the steam from the hot water.

Suffice to say, showering without Minho would now be a sad affair.

You are now sitting on the floor before the television, his family exchanging gifts. Dori purred on your lap, and Soonie bit Minho’s socks, trying his best to remove the fabric from his feet. It’s finally time for you two to exchange gifts, and you’re a bit glad his family seemed to be so immersed in the movie because you know you would combust if you had to explain your gift to them.

“Here,” you hand him an orange box with a black bow. “It’s stupid. Now that I think about it, it’s probably such a fucking dumb gift. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and Eunha even made one for her sister. I almost stole hers ‘cause it turned out much better than mine—”

“My god,” Minho interrupts you with a hearty laugh, taking the box in his hands and inspecting it. “It’s been a while since you word vomited so much. What the hell did you get me that made you so nervous?”

He pulls on the bow, unraveling it before taking the black fabric in his hands and tying it around your head. He laughs once more, and you roll your eyes.

“Minho, just get to it before I snatch this box from you.”

With one last chuckle, he finally opens the box. He stills as he takes in the notebook, sitting on top of far too much wrapping tissue paper. The cat print cardstock paper was a pain to find, but it’s worth it now as you watch Minho’s lips curl into a smile as his fingers gingerly travel through the cover. It was crooked, a bit too small, and still reeked of bookbinding glue, but it reminds you of the day you met Minho, and that was all you thought about when you decided on this gift.

“You fucking bound me a notebook,” he says, still bewildered.

“Took me a while, but I did say I was gonna do it. I’m a woman of my word.”

Minho looks up at you, his smile reaching his eyes and turning them into the pretty crescent moons you love so much. “I love it,” he beams, hands now squeezing your cheeks as he pulls you into a small kiss. “This and that coffee stained notebook are going on my bookshelf back in my dorm, displayed in all their glory.”

Minho pulls away and reaches toward two small boxes on the coffee table. He clears his throat, handing you one box as he settles the other on his lap.

“I thought of you when I saw this on my Instagram feed,” he simply says, fingers toying with the misshaped bow on top of the box — one very similar to the one on your birthday gift many months ago. “Thought about what we talked about in Japan, y’know, about soulmates.”

You raise a brow at him, quickly undoing the bow on your box as curiosity washes over you. You pick up a bracelet made only of red thread, eyeing it curiously.

Minho retrieves the same bracelet from his own box, putting it on before asking, “Have you heard of the red string of fate?”

“That myth that a thread connects two people meant to be together?” You question.

He nods. “Exactly. I feel like that was us,” He explains, taking the red bracelet from your hands and slipping it around your wrist before gently tightening the thread. “Feel like all our little coincidences were little threads tying us together until we met.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t bother trying to hide or stop them this time. Grabbing Minho’s hand that stilled around your wrist, you lace your fingers together, admiring your matching bracelets. It could only be fate. Every small detail that aligned and every road you two crossed to reach the place where you are now could only have come to be because fate wanted it to be that way.

Out of every city you could have lived in, every different university you could have chosen to attend, down to every other seat that could have been empty on the day you met Minho — everything fell into place like a puzzle piece, exactly as if a long, invisible string tied you to him and finally decided it was time to pull you together.

Minho’s gentle touch brushes against your cheek as he silently wipes your tears — no words are needed between you two at that moment as he smiles softly at you while you feel your eyes burn from the cry you had held back for so long. And, as if you’re his mirror, you feel yourself smile as his lips upturn into a grin when his gaze shifts to the open window.

“It’s snowing,” he beams. “It’s the first snow of the year, and our first snow together.”

You stand in front of Minho’s house, the light snow falling softly and covering your heads in white as he kisses you, only stopping to grumble against your lips.

“Your phone’s going crazy in my pocket,” He pouts, and you furrow your brows. You had already sent your family holiday messages, and your friends were all busy with their own Christmas celebrations, so you were clueless about who it could be.

“Can you check it for me?”

Minho nods, untangling himself from your embrace just enough to reach into his pocket and grab your phone to unlock it.

“There’s like fifty new messages from a group chat. Best Fucking Five?” He chuckles lightly at the name, his chilly breath tickling your cheek.

You, on the other hand, immediately frowned as you heard the name. It’s a long-forgotten group chat with your old friend group from high school. You had all stopped talking a little before graduation, with you especially distancing yourself from them upon realizing their toxic words and reactions to your relationships only served to make you feel worse about yourself. No one bothered to leave or delete the group since it quietly died and had stayed that way for over three years now.

Minho hands you the phone, and you click another notification that pops up as soon as you unlock the device.

The conversation began with your former friend sending a screenshot of one of your ex-boyfriend’s newest Instagram post. You skim through the caption and blanch at the words accompanied by a sonogram picture. His girlfriend is pregnant, and he’s over the moon about it.

And you, for some reason, find yourself laughing so much you have to clutch onto Minho’s shoulder as your stomach starts to hurt.

He shoots you an understandably puzzled look, but you can’t stop the giggles that spill from your lips, so you settle on showing him the screenshot.

“I got the best Christmas gift tonight,” Minho reads from the screen. “I'm going to be a dad, and the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known is the mother,” he trails off with a questioning lilt, brows furrowing as that had only confused him more.

“It’s one of my exes,” you manage to tell him after catching your breath.

Minho hums, taking your hands and shoving them in his overcoat pocket along with your phone.

“And why did that make you lose your mind laughing?” He asks with a small smile.

“I guess it was the shock, really. It also made me realize just how little I care about him now. All of them, actually. Every time I was broken up with or had my heart broken in some way, it honestly felt like the end of the world,” you explain, “Like my heart would never recover and like I would hate them for the rest of my life. For years I had such a strong ax to grind with them, and that hatred and grudge only caused me harm. It made me hate love, and it made me blame myself.”

Minho nods, pressing his forehead to yours. Around you two, the snow got thicker, and only the distant sounds of children laughing from neighboring houses could be heard throughout the quiet street.

“But it’s different now?”

You smile up at him. “It’s different now, and I only just realized that. These people are no longer people I hate. They’re simply their words and their actions toward me, but they, as people, mean nothing to me.”

Minho smiles and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. This realization makes you feel lighter, like a small part of the weight of healing has been removed from the equation. It’s only you and yourself now; none of them has any power over your emotions anymore.

“Maybe we should send the baby a present,” you joke, and Minho buries his head in the crook of your neck with a chuckle, and you jump as his cold nose brushes against your skin.

“Maybe we should.”

At that moment, in the arms of this amazing man who has helped you more than he will ever know, you realize that love truly isn’t bad. People can be bad, circumstances can be catastrophic, and wrong timing can destroy nearly everything. But love is, at the core of it all, good.

“Minho,” you call out, feeling him hum against your skin before lifting his head to look at you. “I love you,” you say simply.

His smile rivals every pretty thing around you. The first snow, the gleaming Christmas decorations, and even the moon herself pale in comparison to the smile that Minho gives you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, a tangible sense of bliss in his voice, as if he has yearned for a lifetime to finally be able to say those words to you.

You wrap your arms tighter around Minho, and your fingers brush against the red thread that adorns your wrist. It truly feels as if fate had led you to Minho, leaving little clues along the way to make sure you both knew when you finally met. His journey to you had been relatively easy, while yours had been heart-wrenching, but in the end, it had brought you heaven.

If soulmates really are a thing, there is not an ounce of doubt in your being that Minho is yours. More than anything, he taught you that love is present in everything around you. Love is being kind to others like Minho is kind to his family and strangers in convenience stores at midnight. Love is staying up with your best friend while she cries on the couch, not expecting anything in return. Love is the laughter of little kids on Christmas night echoing throughout a neighborhood. Love is also going out on your own, doing something simply because it will make you happy, and being kind to yourself. All this time, you held onto the belief that love is destructive and only leads to sadness, oblivious to the fact that it has surrounded you every step of the way.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

In the end, Minho had always been right.

Love is the most amazing thing in life.

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1, @malunar28replies, @jazziwritesthings, @finchyyy, @bloom-ings, @linocz, @minhochaos, @lastgreatamericandynasty1, @missminhoe, @jungkookies1002, @meanergreener

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