#i need to shake him really hard. I need to put him under a microscope | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ezlebe · 3 years

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Prompt: Greg becomes the face of waystar-royco corporate pride campaign

“Okay, now…” Tom stares at the screen, at Greg on the screen… at the Diversity text effect whooshing on the screen. “Explain again.”

“I – You can’t say again, because I don’t even really know what happened?”

“Of course not,” Tom says, a bit flatly, as Greg surely went through an entire photoshoot and voiceover session to get to this point.

And didn’t say a word.

“But.” Greg takes a breath, opening and closing his hands while settling to sit on the edge of Tom’s desk. “So I – I think it came from… Remember how Matsson did all those background checks that basically outed everyone because, like – yeah?”

Tom hums in an upward pitch, glancing at the video, but it’s not as if Tom nor Stewy were brought in as little mascots. “And you’re the Roy.”

Greg opens and closes his mouth a bit like a fish. “I’m not, really.”

“You are to everyone who isn’t one or slept with one.”

“Am I, though?” Greg questions, raising his brows and the pitch of his voice, as if it will make him any less a member of his family.

Tom raises his own brows and just looks at the paused WaystarRoyco’s onboarding video.

“Okay, except,” Greg offers a small shrug and a nervy shake of his head. “I uh, look kind of like someone else? And the quotes aren’t like even me because I got like really nervous in the booth, and they edited it so – okay, it is, but… If a computer put my words together?”

“Comforting.” Tom reaches out and unpauses the video, watching a few more seconds of Greg smiling for the camera, then pauses it again with a sweep of his eyes upward to the man himself. “It seems very backhanded, even for this company? You look very much like Patrick Bateman. What kind of bigoted, bite the hand-type did your wardrobe?”

Greg is quiet for a beat, looking oddly up and down from the screen to Tom, then exhales an explosive sigh. “Technically you?”

Tom raises his brows high up his forehead, dropping his voice. “Excuse me?”

“They’re my clothes,” Greg says, gesturing at himself and looking down, then at the video, though he isn’t wearing a stitch of similar clothing. “I guess, I just… We’d like just watched it, I think? It must’ve been in my head.”

“And that’s just funny,” Tom mutters, rolling his lips together to hide a not entirely mocking smile. “Do we need to start doing the call in the morning, again?”

“From the – the where? The bathroom, Tom?”

Tom feels his expression crumple somewhat, as the realization this about to be shown to every recruit they have across numerous continents hits him. “…That does bring up a point,” he says, feeling a tightness in his gut, though not so bad as if this had been a year ago. “Of you being put under a microscope and yoinking me along as a fucking conjugated sample under the slide?”

Greg’s eyes now go wide and flick back and forth, as if the idea hasn’t occurred to him through all the pageantry. “I – uh. But all the people who would be like the worst about it already know, right?”

Tom briefly sets his jaw. “Greg.”

“I don’t think it will matter?” Greg says, shrugging while scratching somewhere under his chin. “Like, no one even pays attention to this video.”

“Okay, so,” Greg grumbles, teeth dragging sharply over his lip, then holding out his phone to Tom across the bed and a bit too close to his face. “Someone paid attention? Sort of?”

Tom blinks hard and reaches up to steady Greg’s hand and move it back an inch, then slowly raises a brow.

The Roy’s Gay Cousin brags the headline in bright red. It accompanies a photo of him and Tom, out in front of their building, only it doesn’t seem to be implying Tom is his partner, so much as Danny, the walk-runner, elevator-snatcher, from two floors down.

“Huh,” Tom says, raising his brows with a muddled sigh that is a bizarre mix of annoyance and relief. “I’m a little offended.”

“Like, me too?” Greg says, sounding way more than a littleanything about it. His voice pitches higher, pout imminent, “I don’t even like Danny. Like, as a person.”

Tom forces himself to sit up on the bed, stretching his shoulders and glancing at his own phone to catch that he’s got a meeting with Bollinger today; what a joy. “Oh, I’m well aware of your feud.”

Greg scrolls for a few more seconds, up and down is screen, then peeks up with a furrow of one brow. “Aren’t you, like… more upset?”

“I’m put out by it at the edges,” Tom says, in the spirit of honesty, looking up at Greg with a thoughtful pinch at his mouth, then leaning forward and grabbing the back of Greg’s head to press a kiss across the forehead. “But I also do know you really hate him.”

C: No, it’s true! Our source named Derrick directly, as who he saw with Gregory Hirsch at that table.

E: Oh, that seems like punching above his weight…

C: If you had the chance, wouldn’t you? Either of them.

J: I’ve heard Gregory can be sort of awkward.

E: You’ve heard? I’ve got a video from last year you need to see.

Tom tilts his head, scrolling down the rest of the podcast’s transcript. “Why do you dislike Mallory, again?”

“He interrupts our – um, our dinners like, constantly,” Greg says, exhaling a scratching at the inside of one of his elbows and hovering in front of the sofa. “Like. Who cares, you know, how they make duck confit? If I need to like know, you’ll tell me.”

Tom clears his throat while dragging his hand down from his mouth down his chin, then setting his chin atop his knuckles. “You know he owns the restaurant, Greg – that how he comes out every time to speak to us is a privilege?”

“We didn’t ask for it, though,” Greg says, petulantly, turning around and wandering across the apartment to the kitchen, then back to Tom in the living area. “Especially not if this happens – and he hasn’t even, like, put out a statement? You were sitting there like almost the whole time.”

“He’s not going to, Greg,” Tom says, closing the UnMoi window while exhaling a sharp bark of a laugh. “As in, would you?”

“Like, no,” Greg says, mouth twisting, as he shoves his hands under his arms and continues to circuit the apartment, much to the bemusement of Mondale. “But. I’m not as – as high profile?”

“You’re a Roy, Greg,” Tom reminds, for the nth time, “You know how in books when the cousin pops up out of nowhere to swoop in and take the empire? You’re that guy.”

“Lukas took the empire, though,” Greg insists, mouth setting flat, “You took the empire. I don’t like even do anything, really, I just – I shouldn’t even be getting like all these rumors, you know? I – I’m just Greg Hirsch.”

“Mr Greg Hirsch,” Tom says, leaning harder into the arm of the sofa, gesturing in a twirl of fingers with his other hand. “Do like all your sparkly toys and your indoor pool?”

“You pay for all that, though, Tom!”

Tom takes a breath, smirking some, then actually tries to think of anything that Greg has paid for in recent memory. “Huh. You really aren’t pulling your weight.”

“Wait, n-no.” Greg finally stop short, looking sharply over at Tom with a sharp pinch of his brows and pulling his hands out to raise. “I didn’t say that.”

Greg looms suddenly at the head of the table, shadowed by flashing lights at his back. “It happened again.”

“What?” Tom says, looking up from the dance floor and reaching out to take his drink from Greg’s hand. “That took you a while.”

“Okay, like… two things happened,” Greg says, mood darkening even further, putting his face at a real contrast to his sparkly Louis Vuitton top. “The guy who like steals my drink every time stole it again – ”

Tom somehow manages not to outright roll his eyes. “Ah.”

“And then someone tweeted that like – ” Greg fumbles out his phone and shows the screen, where Greg Hirsch and boyfriend are apparently in an argument. It’s a bit funny for two reasons, because Tom had fully believed this guy didn’t exist, and now he sees he’s about the size of Roman, if that, which is just visually ridiculous.

“Huh,” Tom says, taking a sip of the drink with a click of his tongue.

“Tom!”

“I literally don’t know what you want me to do,” Tom says, leaning back in the booth to make room, letting Greg slip in next to him, again, while gesturing with a flick of his hand. “Take out half a page in the Times to out the both of us? It’s more practical to keep our actual private lives private. In the long run, no one really thinks you’re fucking this guy who stole your drink a twice.”

“He’s done it like four times,” Greg says, pinching his mouth together and looking down at the tweets with ludicrous anger.

“Then don’t order the same drink when you see him, Greg – get something else.”

“Okay, so um,” Greg says, fiddles with his fingers next to the table, glancing briefly at Lukas and Stewy, then lowering his voice only slightly before continuing, “Like in terms of – of remaining in – or, well. Our private lives remaining private? How… serious was that?”

Tom glances himself around the table, then the entire crowed of gathered occupants of the GoJo Waystar garden party, then flicks his sunglasses to the top of his head with a pair of fingers. “Is that a question for right now?”

“Yes,” Greg says, then his face shifts, abruptly looking just devastated, and it’s clear he forgot to put on his puppy dog face before he walked over, and only just remembered it.

Tom stares back for a few beats, then sighs, “Who was it now?”

“Bernard,” Greg says, practically spitting out the name with a glance over his shoulder.

Tom quirks a brow slightly, and, admittedly, he’s getting kind of tired of all this running rumor. He also may as well take the fucking jump – if he can weather Shiv and Roman’s gruesome twosome sideshow of disdain every time he sees them, he can probably handle the whole of the Internet. He rolls his eyes over to Lukas. “How gay can I be without getting fired?”

Stewy immediately begins to mime sucking a dick complete with disgusting noises.

“Well…” Lukas blinks slowly, then raises a brow. “I think I would react unfavorably if you began to fuck.”

Tom hesitates a beat longer, then lifts both hands, curling his fingers inward with a sigh. He winces when Greg drops down sideways into his lap, not particularly gently, and locks his arms around his waist. “Big drunk baby,” he says, tilting his head to make room when Greg loops arms clumsily across his shoulders. “How many mimosas have you had?”

“None,” Greg says, shockingly, “They do like these, uh, milkshakes. I was trying to get a pink mudslide and fucking Bernard – ”

“Of course,” Tom mutters, and it’s honestly becoming a very tense bet with himself of whether Bernard will simply quit, press charges, or both.

Stewy hums and looks over his shoulder. “Milkshakes?”

“ – Was just like standing next to me, sort of, I guess got too close and then this – this reporter, or influencer or whatever, called us cute.”

Tom is a bit shocked that the mutual disgust didn’t just wash over and ruin the entire party. “I’m sure Bernard loved that.”

“And I didn’t even get my – ” Greg’s eyes light up, and he reaches out to take a pink milkshake, complete with goofy straw, off the tray of an approaching server. “Oh. Thanks!”

The server drops their head in return and tucks the tray. “Very welcome, sir.”

Tom briefly follows the server with his eyes and incidentally catches some person taking a picture over the top of Stewy’s shoulder with their phone. He frowns hard at them, then forces himself to look back to Greg and his ridiculous drink. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a pink mudslide,” Greg says, forcefully condescending, as he balances it on Tom’s shoulder. “I just said.”

Tom eyes the drink for a few beats, then rolls his eyes back forward. He has to shift his legs, slightly, threatening discomfort, and is thankful that the bench is soft because Greg is a… very large man.

“Do they have a grasshopper?” Stewy asks, leaning forward with a sharp note of interest.

“I think so,” Greg says, taking a sip of his drink, phone in the other hand and barely looking up. “Is that the mint one?”

“Yes,” Stewy says, bounding up from his seat. “Fuck. How have I been torturing myself with a Bloody Mary this whole time?”

“Greg,” Lukas says, a few minutes later in that particular dull, mocking voice. “It may interest you to check your mentions.”

Greg hastily flicks at something on his phone, then all but collapses on top of Tom, talking into his neck. “What the fuck?”

“‘When you’re such an unthreatening gay that your straight friends let you sit in their lap’ – what?” Stewy reads over Lukas’ shoulder, then exhales a wheezy cackle, hugging what looks like an overpriced shamrock shake to his chest. “Oh man.”

Tom blinks at the tweet, and feels, for maybe the first time in his life, annoyed that someone has assumed he was straight. It’s suddenly not all that funny, anymore, and swallows hard while tightening his arms around Greg’s waist. He’s been in nearly all the other little situations that have popped up, too, hasn’t he?

“Any one else hear that?” Stewy says, voice dropping and tilting his head with a tap at his ear. “I think it’s… a ticking noise?”

Tom shifts his jaw, realizing he’s been clenching it. “I don’t do that, anymore.”

Greg hums a winding counter argument, then takes a sip of his drink. He’s still using Tom as a damned table.

“So like?” Greg says, as a somewhat typical greeting in the office, at this point, then takes a deep breath. “How long have you had an Instagram?”

“Years, Greg. It’s been unlocked two weeks, though,” Tom says, scratching across a brow with his thumb and leaning back in his chair. He watches Greg walk a maze around the office furniture. “They must have found it? Fairly quick turnaround.”

Greg nods a few times, and the more times he circles the couch, the redder his face seems to look. It doesn’t look like a bad red, really, though there’s definitely some embarrassment.

“You alright there?” Tom says, forcing a neutral raise of his chin while his gut churn a short distance down. “Do I want to know what the preeminent journalists of our time have judged about it?”

“They think you’re really… sweet,” Greg says, coming to pause in front of the desk with a pinch at the corner of his mouth and a total lack of eye contact. “And now there’s a listicle on Buzzfeed about you in the background of all the other pictures.”

Tom hums a low note, glancing at his computer and tempted to look it up. “That’s almost real news.”

“Almost, yeah,” Greg says, then rolls his lips over his teeth for a few beats, ultimately making eye contact with an unreadable look. “You uh, literally unprivated your life?”

“I did, Greg,” Tom says, raising an eyebrow, watching Greg continue to make his little micro expressions of uncertainty and feeling his own start to form. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, I - it’s not that much, even, I just –” Greg shrugs and slumps into the chair across from the desk with a brief drop of his head into his hands. “You have a lot of me on there?”

“I do, yes,” Tom says, realizing all of a sudden this is embarrassed to be complimented Greg, which is a favorite Greg. “It’s something of a problem I have – you.”

“Like, even — you’ve got one from the club, the first time?”

“Gregory, you should know I have these,” Tom says, somewhat blustery, more reluctantly, and is now embarrassed himself to find out Greg has been scrolling that far back. Hopefully, he’ll think Tom deleted most of Shiv, rather than ferreting out that Tom picked up a dusty account to play make believe with himself. “You literally never disagree when I ask you to look up for a picture – that’s a problem with your entire generation.”

Greg laughs with a puff and bites at his lower lip.

“And there’s some of Mondale,” Tom continues, heat in his own face refusing to fade and words passing between his lips with little real thought to them. “A few resorts. But the main thing, Greg, is now everyone knows you’re not and were never fucking Bernard or your elevator rival.”

“Nope,” Greg says, now beaming like a sun, bright and warm, and right at Tom. “Just – uh, Tambsgans.” He blinks, then all but giggles, “Oh.”

Tom rolls his eyes away to his computer screen, trying not to go blind. “Yeah, so what - it’s a bit of a play on my name.”

#tomgreg #i know tom should be more possessive but #thats why i made these all people greg hates

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73chn1c0l0rr3v3l · 2 years

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blorbo aggression

y’all were so nice about me sharing my other thoughts, so i am sharing some more!

so i've got a little pet theory, based around the stuff i've seen on tumblr, & i've been thinking of it as "blorbo aggression".

so okay.

you know how you get cute aggression? (or at least, i do) when you see something so CUTE you want to squeeze it & bite it & generally be violent but in an affectionate way, & it's not usually *dangerous*, per se, but it's that same...

the way i've seen people talk about their faves is a similar vibe to me?

"i want to put him in a pringles can & shake it" "i want to hold him by the scruff of the neck & bathe him in my sink" "i want to examine her under a microscope like an amoeba" "i want to drop her in an aquarium & watch her scare my fish" "i want to bite their dumb little face" "i want to brush their hair like a little fashion doll"

this like. intensity of feeling that just wants to get OUT, only instead of kissing a baby or cuddling a puppy you're thinking of your fave

and wanting to smother them, but like, in a nice way

although this is also different from whump/hurt-comfort sort of stuff for me, because i also enjoy those sometimes. but blorbo aggression kind of feelings (for me, at least) are less about the... story of it, itself, & more the feeling?

i want to write fic where yaz gets sick & the doctor makes her soup. i want to read fic where mel and ace have to endure a really bad mission & then they decompress in the TARDIS. that feels different to me, on some leavel - those need things like "plot" or at least something like coherency or... *something*, although i couldn't tell you anything more specific than that

but for some reason some characters really hit me hard in the blorbo aggression, & i just want to point to her & go "!!!!" & then squeeze her & bite her & make excited squeaky noises

(incidentally, there's also something to be said about how most of the blorbo aggression i see is towards male characters, but that's a whole intersection of what people are comfortable with irt female characters versus male characters, & also how most of fandom tends to prefer dudes so talk about them more to begin with)

i just. man, brains are weird & i kind of love it. the fact that i see something so cute i just want to squeeze it & put it in my mouth, & that translates into billions of words to friends & on AO3 when it's aimed at my faves, aparently!

#long post #neurotic but getting there #incidentally my squeezable blorbo is misty #to the shock of nobody

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

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First Impressions: Part 2

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Part 1 can be found Here

Warnings: just fluff and a nervous Juice

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Been marinating on the request for a second part for a while now. I love Juice and it’s so hard for me to turn away any kind of request for him lmaooo. Hope you guys enjoy!

SOA Taglist: @garbinge @adela-topaz-caelon @masterlistforimagines @mijop @chibsytelford @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff @kkim120 @toni9 @unicornucopia-fuckers @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @paintballkid711 @black-repunzel99 @jitterbugs927 @mrsstevenbuchananstark

You were getting ready to leave work when your phone vibrated on your desk. You paused, looking down at the number. It wasn’t in your contacts, but you picked it up anyway, having a very singular hope for who it was.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Juan,” he paused for a beat, “From T-M?”

You chuckled, “I remember. I was hoping to hear from you,” you spun slightly from side to side in your desk chair, “Was starting to worry you took off with my car.”

He laughed, “No, no, nothing like that. It’s, uh, it’s good to go, though.”

“Really?” they’d had your car for a couple days, and you were on the brink of losing hope that they’d be able to fix it.

“Yea. So, uh, if you wanna come and pick it up, you can.”

“Holy shit,” you laughed in disbelief, “Alright, yea. I’m just getting ready to leave work. I’ll be there in thirty? Is that alright?”

“I’ll be here,” there was a softness to his tone and you could almost picture the smile on his face.

“Perfect. See you soon.”

You hung up the phone and finished packing up your things as quickly as you could. Tucking your bag onto your shoulder, you made your way towards the front doors of the building. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect—right before your phone call you’d gotten the notification that your ride was ready for you. Hopping into the car, you gave them the new address, relieved that they didn’t seem bothered by the last-minute changes.

When they parked outside the compound, you thanked them once more and gave them an extra tip before hopping out of the car. You walked onto the lot, and it all felt much quieter and emptier than when you’d been there a few days before. It was technically after business hours, sure, but not by much. You spotted all the bikes lined up and you assumed that that was the reason for it being so quiet, not the fact that it was after five o’clock.

You made your way towards the garage bays, one of them housing your car. You looked around but there were no mechanics in sight. You gnawed at the inside of your bottom lip as you scanned for Juice, or really anyone who could help you out. When you saw that the garage was truly empty, you made your way over to the office. Rapping your knuckles lightly on the door, you waited for a response.

“Come in,” you recognized the woman’s voice from your last visit.

You peeked your head inside, a sheepish smile on your face, “Hey. Sorry, I know it’s after hours but—”

“You dropped your car off the other day, right?” she gestured vaguely at you with the glasses in her hand, “Juice took care of you?”

“Um,” you fought the urge to stammer, “yea. He called me a little bit ago, said my car was good to go?”

She nodded, “It is. Let me go grab him—the boys yanked him aside for some other business,” she gestured to the chair, “Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

You did as she said, holding your purse in your lap as you looked around the office. You knew that there must’ve been a method to the madness, but you were truly surprised by how many forms and business cards covered what seemed like every inch of wall space. There were a few stray papers still on the desk, and you wondered if any of them were for you. Just as you were about to try and take a look, you heard the clicking of the woman’s boots as she walked back into the office.

“Juice will finished getting you squared up,” she tucked a few papers away, and handed the rest to Juice, who had walked in a couple steps behind her with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Thanks, Gem,” he said, his voice a little soft as she grabbed her bag to leave.

“Don’t mention it. Just make sure the guys don’t yank you away next time you’re supposed to be doing shit,” she turned to you and smiled, “Have a good night, sweetheart.”

You nodded, intrigued by the entire interaction, “You too, thank you.”

There was a nervous smile on Juice’s face as he sat down across from you, “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I was planning on being out here when you got here. But the guys needed help with some stuff.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “It’s really not a problem,” you paused, “Am I gonna cry at how much this is gonna cost me?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “No, no. I got you a good deal on parts and shit. And, uh, I didn’t get you for labor.”

“What?” you shook your head, “Juan, no, come on. You, you can’t do that.”

“Sure I can,” he smiled, “Really, it’s fine.”

You hated the feeling of accepting charity from someone, especially someone you didn’t really know all that well. It was one thing if he was just getting you a good deal on a couple parts, but this was different. Accepting help with anything had never been easy, let alone when it came to money.

He saw the hesitation on your face and waited for you to meet his eyes, “Hey, think of it this way,” he chuckled as he slid the paperwork over to you, “It’s about what you saved me in bail charges when you found me on the street.”

It got you to laugh, and the playful spark in his eyes was difficult to turn away from or say no to. Finally, you gave a slight nod as you handed over your card and started to sign the papers. His eyes didn’t stray from you as he ran your card. He knew that he should reel it in, but he also didn’t know if this was going to be the last time he ever saw you. The fact that he ever ran into you again after that day on the street was nothing short of a miracle. He wondered when his luck was going to run out.

“Alright,” he forced himself to think about the situation at hand, “I think that means you’re all set.”

You slipped your card back into your purse, “I really can’t thank you enough.”

“No need to thank me,” he smiled as he stood up from his chair, “It’s what we do here.”

The two of you walked out of the office to see that someone had already moved your car out of the garage bay that it had been parked in. You didn’t think much of it until you saw the confusion etched into the features of Juice’s face. His eyes immediately went to the other building on the lot, and your gaze followed. You saw a few men sitting out on the picnic table—you recognized two of them from your previous visit, but one of the faces as new to you. Juice shook his head slightly as he continued to walk with you to the car.

“So you should be all good to go,” he smiled as he leaned back against your car, “but if something else goes wrong just, y’know, give us a call.”

“Do I need to use the T-M number? Or do I get to use your personal hotline for that?”

He couldn’t meet your gaze as he let out a nervous chuckle, “Either one will work,” he cleared his throat, “Lemme get your keys.”

He opened the driver’s door, expecting to find the keys under the visor where they always put them if they had to leave the keys with a car. When he didn’t find them there or in the console, he let out a sigh. Knowing exactly where they were, he cast a glance over at the men sitting on the table.

Jax had the most satisfied grin on his face as he twirled your keys around his finger, whistling and gesturing for Juice to come over, “I got ‘em.”

Juice rolled his eyes, knowing that he was getting set up to get you roped into something with them. He didn’t know what, exactly, but he had no desire to find out. He offered you an apologetic look, “Gimme a sec, I’ll go grab your keys.”

You laughed, nodding, “Whatever you gotta do.”

You watched as he jogged over to the men at the table. You couldn’t see the look on his face, but the satisfied grins and smirks of the men facing him were enough to tell you that they were definitely giving him a bit of a hard time about something. More likely than not it had to do with the puppy-dog look in his eyes whenever he was looking at you.

“Y/N,” Jax called over to you with a slick smile, “c’mere!”

You could only imagine the look on Juice’s face. But still, you obliged to see where exactly this was all going. You tossed your purse into your car before walking over. Juice was shaking his head apologetically at you as you approached, which provided a stark contrast to the looks of glee on Jax and Opie’s faces.

Tucking your hands into your back pockets, you offered them all a smile, “Hey. Something I can do for you?”

“Nah,” Jax rested his elbows on his knees, “just wanted to say hi, make sure your car is alright.”

“Hard to tell that if I can’t put the keys in the ignition,” you quipped with a smile, “But I’m sure it’s fine. I did leave it in the hands of Charming’s Intelligence Officer, after all.”

Juice looked over at you, and you could tell that he was caught between laughing, and melting into the floor. Jax still held your keys securely in the palm of his hand, and you wondered what exactly he was waiting for to relinquish them. Part of you wondered if they simply wanted to watch Juice squirm a little bit more under the microscope before letting you go on your way.

“Juice mentioned that there was something he wanted to ask you,” Opie spoke up with a smirk as he lit a cigarette.

You raised your eyebrows, clearly knowing that they were throwing him under the bus for something, “Oh, really?”

Juice shook his head, “No, no. It’s not—it’s nothing.”

You weren’t going to push it, knowing that there were enough people doing that already, “Right. Well, if no one has anything to ask me,” you glanced back at Jax and put your hand out, “I’d really love to have my keys back.”

“You got plans tonight, dalrin’?” Jax asked as he tossed your keys over to you.

You caught them, shaking your head, “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Want some?” Opie asked.

You chuckled, not missing the expression on Juice’s face, “Depends on the offer.”

Jax smiled, “We’re havin’ a party here tonight. Nothin’ crazy, just the guys and some friends.”

“Oh,” you tossed the keys back and forth between your hands, “I’m some friends now?”

“Well,” he chuckled, “I figured you were, especially based on the way Juice ta—”

“You don’t have to,” Juice cut him off, trying to come to his own defense, “It can be a lot, so, you know, don’t feel like you have to.”

You smiled, finding his nerves endearing, “Right. Well, I’ll think about it.”

Jax nodded, a smirk still tugging at his lips, “You know where to find us.”

“I sure do,” you looked to Juice with a soft smile, “Walk me to my car, Juan?”

He nodded, eager to get both of you out of the current conversation, “Yea, sure thing.”

As the two of you walked away, you could hear the murmurs and laughs between Jax and Opie, and you didn’t miss the fact that Juice shot them a look over his shoulder as you made your way towards the car. You lightly bumped your shoulder against his own in a playful attempt to get him to loosen up a little bit.

“You really, uh,” he nervously scratched the back of his head, “don’t feel like you have to show up or anything because of Jax. He’s just, you know…” his voice trailed off.

You smiled, leaning back against the door of your car. You waited for him to meet your eyes, “Do you want me to stop in tonight?”

His eyes grew a little wider at the question, “What?”

You folded your arms over your chest as you watched the shifts in his expression, “I’d be more than happy to stop by later. But only if you’d actually like that. Because, and correct me if I’m wrong,” you chuckled, “I have the feeling that Jax’s invite has nothing to do with him actually wanting me to be there tonight.”

Juice’s heart sped up inside his chest as he tried to formulate a response to what you were saying. He swallowed hard, slowly nodding his head, “Y-yea. I’d…I’d really like that.”

You smiled, nodding, “Then I’ll see you later.”

You went to open the door and he reached out, gently grabbing your hand to get your attention. You could see the nerves in his eyes still, “They’re probably, uh, they’re probably not going to let up,” he nodded towards the men at the table, “You know that, right?”

You laughed, “That doesn’t surprise me,” you gave his hand a light squeeze, “I’ll see you later, Juan. Okay?”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “Okay.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #my writing #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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altariaas · 3 years

Text

your face all made up (living on a screen)

Adrien knows, to some degree, that it’s the important things that are the most important to say out loud, but it would help to know that someone’s actually listening. It would also help if things would stop breaking every time he acknowledged his emotions, too.

i’ve taken a total of three steps into this fandom but sure, let’s skip to season 4 and fall face-first into the Angst™, as it goes. I just think Adrien should get a little raw powers of destruction sneaking out of control in his daily life. as a treat. Post-Rocketear so lots of spoilers etc.

Adrien walks home from the fight against Nino’s akuma with a raging headache, a developing case of massive anxiety, and a purpling bruise the size of a basketball on his shin.

The last one isn’t actually from the akuma. Those injuries got neatly miraculoused away, along with Nino’s heartbroken betrayal. No, the bruise is from Adrien’s incredibly stupid attempt to funnel his tornado of emotions into something concrete by kicking the front gate, only to completely miss and slam his shin into the solid steel rungs instead, sending him stumbling back in a pained fit of trying to think up creative curse words that won’t result in his father murdering him if he overhears.

Metaphorically, of course. Father’s not a murderer, except when it comes to the slow death of Adrien’s social life.

Though he really…can’t entirely blame that on Father, either.

And there comes the developing case of anxiety. Adrien swallows, a feeble attempt to banish the souring feeling in his stomach and the aching tightness in his chest. He wraps his arms around himself, staring up at the mansion and fighting the increasing urge to run. The inside of his cheek stings as he chews at it, already abused from how hard he’d bitten there earlier when Nino had started making…observations. Accusations. Wildly misdirected statements that definitely aren’t any insight to how Nino truly feels about what might be the truest version of Adrien’s slowly splintering self, if he’s going to be dramatic about it.

Overly passionate, Father’s voice echoes hollowly somewhere in the back of his head. Prone to fits of drama, just like his mother.

Spinning abruptly on his heel, Adrien beats a steady path away from the mansion gates and toward…somewhere. Somewhere that won’t make that developing case of anxiety worse, and where no one can witness his fits of drama.

The urge to send the front camera a rude gesture in farewell is violently stifled as Adrien keeps his arms wrapped tightly around himself, like the action will keep everything in neat and perfect and safe from view. He feels more than hears Plagg rustle curiously in his front pocket, but Adrien ignores the action, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

Then the sharp reminder of how it felt when Ladybug ignored him in favor of Rena Rouge comes back and bites him solidly in the guilty part of his feelings, so Adrien pats his front pocket reassuringly.

“Just taking the long way home,” he murmurs.

Plagg’s eyes are calculating, almost greener than usual as they stare at him, and Adrien feels uncomfortably perceived. Not in the cold, bug-under-a-microscope way he feels sometimes when Father looks at him, but a hot kind of uncomfortable, the way he feels when someone looks right past the Adrien Agreste mask and sees—

What? What do they see? An awkward boy stumbling back against a wall because he never learned what his real self was supposed to look like? Hollow flirting and annoying with a capital a?

Fits of drama, Adrien reminds himself. He shouldn’t take it so close to heart. Not when Nino looked so devastated, so heartbroken. Not when Ladybug’s been giving him uncomfortably clear signs that Nino might’ve been right.

“If you say so, kid,” Plagg finally replies. “But I better get that camembert sooner than later.”

A half-smile tugs at Adrien’s mouth. “Sure, Plagg.”

At least Plagg still wants him around, masks and all. It’s a small comfort, but Adrien clings to it, his arms tightening around himself. Sure, things didn’t go…wonderfully, today, but it’s not all so bad. He got slammed into a van a couple of times, and maybe a couple of busted ribs, but that’s nothing, comparatively. And sure, Father’s finding more flaws in him to coldly evaluate than usual, and Nathalie’s growing paler and sicker by the day, and Ladybug’s either freezing him out bit by bit or starting to forget about him entirely and he isn’t sure which is worse, and his schedule is slipping further and further from manageable by the day and Nino dislikes a side of him so much it sent him straight into an akuma and—

“—kid, stop!”

Adrien’s thoughts cut off abruptly as his foot catches, his sense of balance going horizontal as he stumbles, and proceeds to nearly slam the rest of him face-first into the concrete. Plagg’s sharp warning echoes in his ears as he rights himself with a panicked yelp, hopping once while frantically hoping no one was around to see — whatever that was.

“Kid,” Plagg starts, but he doesn’t finish. He’s left the front pocket, his eyes bright green as he stares at him.

Adrien blinks, shaking the slight sense of vertigo off. “Sorry, sorry, I—”

Huh. What did he do? Rubbing the back of his head, Adrien glances at the street he stumbled over. He frowns.

The culprit is a jagged, snaking tear in the concrete, half a meter deep and the length of Adrien’s arm. He stares at the spiderwebbing cracks that branch out of it, fine grains of crushed concrete already scattering in the slight wind.

Weird, he thinks. He doesn’t remember fighting Nino this far down the street. Lucky Charm should’ve fixed that, even if he did.

“Adrien,” Plagg says, and there’s an uncharacteristically cautious edge in his voice. “What was that?”

Adrien cups a hand around Plagg, running a finger over his head in apology as he draws him out of view again. “Lost in thought, I guess,” he says, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

Plagg doesn’t reply, still staring at him with a look Adrien can’t quite identify. He feels oddly disoriented, like he actually did fall and hit his head, and now it’s spinning in retaliation. Across the street in front of him, the stoplight flickers — red, then orange, then red again. It flickers out entirely, before snapping back to a bright, acidic green. Adrien rubs his eyes.

“Let’s…let’s go home,” Plagg finally says, tucking himself back in Adrien’s shirt pocket. He doesn’t entirely meet Adrien’s eyes as he does, but he curls up against his chest, solid and warm, and it’s almost enough to banish the ache that lies beneath.

“Okay,” he says, softly. “Home, then.”

————

There’s a memory Adrien has, from when he was younger. It’s one he holds tightly to his chest, tattered and frayed as it is.

He was much smaller than he is now — barely six years-old, maybe, and small enough to hide behind the large statues his mother would put funny hats on to make his father laugh. She’d done just that earlier, standing tiptoed on the staircase as she’d slipped a terrible orange bowler hat on the pretty lady Nathalie said was from Greece. Adrien had giggled behind his fingers and his father had laughed, an unfamiliar sound that’s faded in memory now, but a bright and real one nonetheless.

It had been a good day, until mother had come down with a cold during dinner and Adrien had jolted out of sleep from a nightmare about giant, ugly orange hats that snatched up his mother with their ribbon-like fingers and took her away from him forever.

He’d sprinted through the house like the horrible hat monsters from his dream were on his heels, slipping in his socks up to the cracked door of his father’s study.

He hadn’t needed to knock, then, or even schedule a meeting. He’d slid through the doorway and barreled into his father, only to be caught by strong arms and swept into his father’s lap, warm and safe from any monsters that dared to follow him here.

“I’m worried about your mother, too,” his father had said. “But it’s just a cold, you see? Nothing to go slipping and falling down the stairs about.”

He’d received nothing but a sniffle in response.

“Alright.” Fingers had pinched around his nose as his father sighed. “How about we read a story then, until you’re not so frightened? Just you and me.”

The book they’d started that night was about a prince and a planet and a rose, and Adrien still remembers the sound his father’s voice made as it resonated where Adrien’s cheek pressed against his chest, his arms holding tight and warm around him, like nothing bad could slip in from outside and hurt him.

It’s a favorite memory of his, one Adrien finds springing back to mind whenever Father gives him a smile, half-formed and distanced as they are.

Lately, though, it’s a memory that stings to think about. It makes it harder to look Father in the eye, for some reason.

————

“And like, I really can’t say this enough, but I’m so sorry.”

“I told you, Nino, it’s fi—”

“No seriously, dude, I’m really sorry, I—”

“Nino.”

His friend finally jerks out from his puddle of miserable apologies, and Adrien gives him a weary smile. “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I dragged you into the boiler room then got akumatized,” Nino says, distressed. “That’s worse than like, the plot of eight different horror movies.”

“Your head was shaped like a giant blue tear, it wasn’t that scary,” Adrien assures him.

“I am ninety percent sure I remember shoving you to the floor,” Nino moans, not reassured in the least.

Part of Adrien’s mind, the part that sounds a little too much like a spurned cat whom hell hath no fury, or however the saying goes, wants to pipe up with the fact that getting shoved to the floor was five-star treatment compared to what Nino (akuma, Nino’s akuma, that’s important) had proceeded to do to him afterwards.

The bus-slamming thing had hurt.

Not as much as hurting Nino would’ve, though.

So instead, Adrien gives Nino the kindest smile he can, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says, “As if the akuma gave you the biceps to pull that off.”

“Hey,” Nino knocks their shoulders together, his guilt ridden expression easing just a bit as he gives him a half-hearted grin. “I’m ripped, bro.”

It takes Adrien a moment to reply, too busy fighting the overwhelmingly — traitor — urge to follow the warmth of contact with Nino like a starving animal. He doesn’t need to fight for too long — his brain throws everyone thinks you’re a joke at him just in time for Adrien to hunch his shoulders in and give Nino an awkward little grin of his own.

Maybe his brain’s a traitor too, though, because he doesn’t remember Nino even saying that about Chat Noir.

He thinks.

Hopes.

Actually, his brain can go sit in a corner if it’s going to keep throwing stuff like this at him. Shaking anything and everything knowledge-wise that belongs to Chat Noir from his mind, Adrien turns his attention back to the scribbled game of hangman they’ve been playing on the corner of Nino’s history notes. Group projects are supposed to be fun, anyways, especially with Nino.

“Uh, c,” he guesses.

Nino adds a single c to the blank letter spaces. Adrien squints at the paper, his mouth downturning at the suspiciously familiar arrangement he has so far.

_adia_t, ca_ef_ee, d_ea_y

“Nino,” he says, carefully.

Nino smirks. “Mm-hm.”

“If this has anything to do with perfume ads—”

“Uh-huh?”

“Then I hate you.”

Nino cackles, scribbling in the rest of the rest of the accursed phrase as Max loudly hushes him. Adrien rolls his eyes and huffs, but he’s unable to stop the small smile of amusement. It quickly fades as his words to Nino echo with an uncomfortable emphasis in his head.

You’re being stupid, he tells himself. Adrien pushes away the nagging feeling. Nino knows he’s not serious. He knows Adrien doesn’t actually hate him. Just like Adrien knows Nino didn’t mean it, when he said all that stuff about Chat Noir.

His fingers tighten around his pencil. He’s not supposed to be thinking about that. Nino apologized, to Chat Noir himself, and just because Adrien can’t get the sting out, it doesn’t mean that Nino meant anything genuine by it.

Overly dramatic, Adrien reminds himself. Way too emotional.

The ache in his chest makes itself known again with a pang, and Adrien bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at Nino from the corners of his eyes.

Maybe he should tell Nino he cares about him, just to be sure. The words form in his mind, only to catch abruptly in his throat, thick and cloying. He thinks of how thoughtlessly he’s been able to tell Father he loves him. Thinks of how easy it’s always been to tell Ladybug how much she means to him.

He thinks of how neither of them seem to like meeting him in the eyes, lately.

He swallows the words, opting to smile brightly at Nino instead. It’s probably for the best. Nino’s always been better at picking up on people’s feelings, anyways, and he doesn’t need the kind of nagging assurance Adrien does. And it’s not like Adrien’s had much luck telling people he loves them, lately. Actually, if you look at his track record, he probably hasn’t…had any luck at all.

Adrien shakes his head, shoving the coldness creeping into his chest as far to the corner of his mind as he can, and sketches out enough blank spaces on the paper to spell fake mustaches are the new sexy.

If he can still make Nino laugh, it’s fine. He wouldn’t be laughing if he thought Adrien was annoying and obnoxious.

So see? It’s fine.

————

Adrien thinks about elastics, sometimes. The stretchy, rubber kind that Mme Thurston uses to pull back the longer locks of his hair while she’s doing his makeup, tying it up in a neat little explosion on top of his head that makes him look like a blond weed. She makes it look easy, twisting the little bands around and around, until they’re tight enough to hold his hair in place.

(Adrien’s hair is always easy, of course. Chat Noir’s hair, on the other hand, would probably give Mme Thurston nightmares. Mainly because Adrien has a fun little habit of shaking his head side to side until it’s an unrecognizable blond disaster, but that’s not particularly relevant.)

(Ladybug doesn’t even need to use elastics, opting for the soft strands of ribbon that hold her pigtails in perfect place.)

Adrien doesn’t normally use elastic bands either, but he likes the way they feel when he’s nervous, stretching and rubbery, then snapping perfectly back into place, like he’d never twisted them all out of proportion at all. The way he can hook his fingers in both ends and pull and pull and pull, but they never quite snap.

Felix has a fun trick with those, when they do photoshoots together.

(When they used to.)

He’ll press a little elastic against Adrien’s arm and pull the end back, just far enough, then let it snap back into place, stinging little red marks when it slaps against skin.

“Stop it,” Adrien scowls at him, but the expression wavers. Playful isn’t a word he uses along with Felix very often, but photoshoots are always more entertaining with him, at least. Or they were, until his mother disappears, and family photoshoots grind to an utter and complete halt forever—

—just for now, his father says, until something changes, until that something happens, until that metaphorical other foot that’s always hanging over Adrien’s head finally stomps its way back to earth and demolishes him in the process—

Felix replies by stretching another elastic between his fingers, shooting it toward him this time like a little slingshot. Adrien snags it out of the air, slotting it between his own fingers to fire back. It misses by a miserable meter and a half, because at the time this conversation takes place, he and Ladybug haven’t stayed up all night practicing their aim by trying to hit the left ear of Le Stryge on Notre-Dame.

Felix snorts, snatching the elastic from the floor, and makes a show of placing the band back against Adrien’s wrist. He pulls it back with a meaningful look, like an exasperated teacher. “It’s the bounce back that hurts,” he tells him. “Not the stretching part. When it snaps back to place—” He demonstrates by releasing the band, and Adrien flinches at the tiny sting. “—that’s the part that hurts.”

Four years later, having up close and personally experienced what a shattered ribcage stabbing into your lungs feels like, Adrien wants to correct Felix on tiny little elastic bands and what actually hurts, but the point, he guesses, is that he still remembers what it felt like.

He still thinks about those elastics sometimes, and how far they can be pulled until they snap back into place. How the little rubber band can make it so far, get so close to breaking, only to snap right back to where it started.

(Chat Noir doesn’t use elastics, either.)

————

For all that Adrien will stand by stuffing the worst of his emotions into a box and never thinking about them ever as a perfectly reasonable way to go about handling things —and whatever Plagg says doesn’t count, he’s a kwami who compares emotions to cheese — Adrien really does believe in communication as key.

Living it out is just. Another thing entirely.

But Adrien’s lived his life with a cold mansion’s worth of words left unsaid, so on principle, he really does believe that if something’s important, you should say it. Maybe nobody will really listen to you, or take you seriously, but at least you’ll have said it, and maybe at some point they’ll remember you said it, and it’ll mean something to them.

But maybe that’s what stopping him this time — he just can’t decide if it’s the idea of not being listened to that scares him, or the idea of actually being heard that’s worse.

It’s not like he wants to tell Ladybug he’s upset. It’s not like he even wants to be upset.

It doesn’t change the fact that he is, kind of, a little bit, (a lot) — but again, on principle, Adrien just — he doesn’t like being upset. It’s all uncomfortable and hot and it sits on his chest like a rock, weighing heavier and heavier until he learns to get over it.

It’s only worse when he tries to say something about it, because that never works. Maybe it’s a really sucky side effect of being homeschooled for most of his life, but every time Adrien opens his mouth to tell someone he’s upset with them and here’s why, it always backfires spectacularly. There’s a weird moment where something happens and the other person says their part, and suddenly Adrien’s complaints sound so stupid he wants to crawl in a hole and hide. There’s a dizzying one-eighty and Adrien’s suddenly the one in the wrong, and the other person’s upset at him, and now he’s got to apologize before he makes it worse than he already has.

And granted, most of those other people are just Father (or Father’s tinny voice through the phone), but he’s already enough to beat the lesson in.

Metaphorically, of course. Always — always metaphorically. Adrien’s never doubted otherwise.

“Maybe I’m just that bad at arguing,” he mutters, swiping darkly at his phone screen.

“I dunno,” Nino says, his voice consoling. “I mean, you were pretty good at it when you argued me into watching that one anime the other night.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t upset with you about that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nino winks at him. “Unless your voice going all high-pitched about why Sailor Moon is the peak of animation is your default setting.”

“I wasn’t upset with you, though,” Adrien shakes his head, cutting him off. “I’m never upset with you.”

And he isn’t, really. Not even when Nino tells him, in an admittedly roundabout way, that he’s annoying and irritating and has loose and shady moral commitment to love and all its forms (or something like that).

He means, it stings, but only in the way Felix’s little rubber band snaps do. Not enough to justify picking an argument with Nino. Not to justify upsetting him, and possibly losing the one friend who’s stuck by him through the worst and actually shares stuff with him these days.

Adrien bites down on the inside of his cheek. If he’s not careful with the way his train of thought’s been steering itself lately, he’s going to accidentally show Ladybug how upset he is, and that’s—

Well, the fallout of that will hurt a lot worse than a little elastic band snap.

A lot worse than it already does, so. Back in your corner, resentful thoughts.

“Uh-huh.” There’s a quiet edge of suspicion in Nino’s voice, and Adrien stiffens, suddenly feeling horribly seen. The look Nino’s pinned on him doesn’t help at all, searching and curious and—

Concerned? Upset? Angry?

Adrien doesn’t know. He thinks it’s concern, but he’s also been thinking Ladybug’s been amused with him when she’s apparently just been annoyed, so who knows, really—

Shut up, Adrien tells his subconscious furiously. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“It’s okay, if you are,” Nino says hesitantly, perhaps having picked up on whatever storm of emotions are slipping through Adrien’s schooled expression. “Upset, I mean. At your old man or me. It’s better to talk to people upfront, y’know? Otherwise…”

Nino’s expression twists in guilt, and Adrien’s lungs feel a little like they’re shriveling up and dying. Or maybe that’s just his chest on the whole, collapsing in on itself and taking Adrien’s ability to breath right with it.

He isn’t upset. He’s not. He doesn’t need to talk to anyone upfront about it, because there’s nothing to talk about in the first place. He’s not going to be overly dramatic about this too, he’s not. He’s just— it’s just—

Is it personal? Was it something he did, that made Ladybug trust everyone else but him? Did he slip up at some point and he just — he can’t remember? She’d told him, she’d promised they were fine after New York, but maybe she’d changed her mind without telling him and decided he needed to figure out on his own where he messed up if he was ever going to be worthy of her trust agai—

“I’ll be — I’ve gotta — restroom,” Adrien stammers, shooting up from his seat and all but sprinting for the doors.

“Wait, Adrien—!”

Nino’s panicked call is lost as Adrien flies down the hall, slipping down the stairs to the bathrooms on the first floor where he’s less likely to be found. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to cry, or anything so humiliating, but there’s an awful crushing sensation in his chest that makes him think he might do something he’ll regret. Or say something, any of the raging thoughts that bang off the insides of his skull with hurt. Something he won’t be able to take back.

Adrien wavers, planting both hands on the edge of the sink and staring at the white porcelain. His breathing sounds odd in the echo of the bathroom, wavering and off-beat. His vision swims traitorously, so he glares up at the mirror instead, only to falter as he catches sight of his reflection.

He looks…not great. Pale skin and bloodshot eyes in the way that’s likely to make Nathalie call a doctor on him. Which would be just fantastically ironic, considering she’s the one who needs a doctor, even if she’s never going to admit it and keep lying to him. Just like Ladybug, all careful smiles and words chosen with forced, casual caution, staring at him with eyes that are a million other places except actually seeing him.

Stop, he tells himself furiously, squeezing his eyes shut. Stop. Ladybug is not Father. Ladybug is Ladybug, his best friend and partner and he trusts her, he trusts her to have her reasons for not telling him. He has to trust her. He does trust her, he—

A sharp cracking sound tears Adrien from his thoughts, and he snaps his head up to find seven of his own disjointed faces staring back at him. He blinks, and suddenly the faces are clinking to the floor, broken fragments of the mirror scattering around his shoes.

His first thought, apart from a bizarre sense of not being entirely in his body, is a well-timed curse word.

Instead, what he gets out is, “Seven years bad luck,” muttered, almost absently, beneath his breath.

Typical. He wonders if moonlighting as a black cat-themed superhero that leans heavily into exaggerated acrobatics counts as crossing one. Like he needs more bad luck, right now.

What he actually needs, is…

Is…

He needs an escape.

From everything, it feels like, but for now, Adrien will settle for an escape from the school bathroom with all the mirrors that just broke.

…somehow.

————

For all that he throws fits of drama about it, the thing is, Adrien has escaped.

He’s made it out of the house, to school. He’s learned physics and grammar and math that Nathalie taught him six months ago, and he’s learned how to play hangman and cut class and tell your friend’s fortune with folded paper. He’s made friends, real friends, and he’s learned how to muffle loud giggles on the phone at night and what kinds of snack food Nino likes and doesn’t like. He’s learned how to pick up on a whole slew of emotions other than disappointment and apathy and mildly reserved approval, and he’s learned how to tell when other people are hurting.

(He’s learned how to tell how he’s hurting, but he’s unlearned that one faster.)

He’s learned the words it takes to voice that Father isn’t always right, learned how to curl his fingers tight enough into his palms that they don’t shake so much anymore, and he’s learned how to stretch like a rubber band against people’s anger, bending without breaking.

(He’s also learned about the perks of night vision and bone density and six different ways to trip someone up with the leather belt you’ve got tied around your waist like a tail, but he can’t credit school for those.)

And he thinks — he thinks he’s come so far, he’s learned so much, he’s so much stronger now—

Then his father’s eyes soften just enough to resemble the eyes of the man who held him close and told him how much he loved him, loves him, who stayed up all night reading Adrien’s favorite book to him and whose lap was the safest, warmest place in the world, and Adrien—

Hates himself. Hates himself as he snaps right back into place, right back into the Adrien who crumbles at Father’s slightest snap of tone. Hates himself so much it stings.

Because it’s so much easier to do that, than it is to hate his father.

————

Adrien doesn’t particularly want to go to the photoshoot after school, especially not now that mirrors are literally breaking at the sight of his face, but — and here’s the fits of drama again — like everything else Father’s deigned to want, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Technically, though, Adrien fantasizes as he fixes his eyes upward so the makeup artist can do her best to hide the darkening circles beneath them (“—really, dear, do you sleep at all these days—”), he could give himself a choice. He could make it fun, too, striking the perfect pose before transforming into Chat Noir right smack in front of the entire studio crew, and then Father would have something truly inspired to review that evening. A perfect snapshot of Adrien cataclysm-ing his merry way out of the studio and out into the gloriously free outside, that’s what.

Except then Adrien would have way too many choices to make, and even less all at once. The identity thing, being one. How to avoid Ladybug murdering him and dancing atop his grave, for another. Not that he thinks Ladybug is capable of murdering anyone, of course—

(—no, that’s solely reserved for him and his powers alone—)

—but he can imagine she’d be angry, were he to stage a reveal that way.

Were he to stage a reveal at all, Adrien thinks sourly, blinking until the stiff feeling of the makeup beneath his eyes fades. His makeup artist’s had to use the thick kind today, the extra-strength stuff that’s going to take forever to wash off. He stifles the urge to swipe at it, trying to relax into the feeling instead. Makeup is familiar, consistent. Sure, it’s technically another lie, but it’s one Adrien’s at least aware of. Makeup, he can see through. He can put it on and take it off himself, exercising some tiny semblance of control over what’s being hidden from the world.

Everything else, though…

“Carefree, my boy, carefree,” Vincent implores, his eyebrows furrowing as Adrien snaps himself back to the present. “You look as if you’re being drowned in mud, not soaring above the clouds.”

Adrien’s cheeks puff up as he blows his breath out, short and frustrated. At least Vincent is every bit as prone to fits of drama as he is, he reminds himself. It’s better to be stuck with someone passionate than someone as open as a brick wall, even if it is just Vincent antagonizing him with a camera again.

“Sorry,” he offers, giving him a weak grin. “I’ll get it this time, promise.”

Vincent doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he rambles about lighting and angles instead of scolding Adrien, which he can’t help but be grateful for. It allows Adrien a moment to let the smile drop, staring at the ground instead of the brightening lights around him.

He toes sullenly at the smooth linoleum of the floor, the solid black of Father’s logo glaring back at him from the side of his sneaker. Maybe he should just get more sleep. Maybe all the ugly tangled emotions in his chest are just residual buildup from being overtired, that’s all. Ladybug mentioned the stress getting to her a little while back, her own eyes bloodshot and exhausted. Adrien’s brilliant solution had been to take her to the movies, which had gone just as brilliantly as every other time he’s tried something like that, which is not very well at all. He’d been worried about her, though, even before she’d thrown him from a roof on accident. Ladybug carries so much on her shoulders, and strong as they are, Adrien knows what it’s like to be strung so tightly that even the slightest extra weight feels like it’ll snap you. He sees the same weight in his own eyes, now, even blinded by the studio lights.

His stomach twists. Ladybug’s eyes aren’t half as bloodshot lately. There’s an easiness to her that wasn’t there before, a lightening of tension, and yes, Adrien’s happy she’s feeling better, he’s nothing but glad that she isn’t so exhausted and worn, but…

But she’d trusted him before, even when she was strung her tightest. And now that there’s relief in her eyes, now that he’s taking a backseat and Ladybug adds more allies to their roster by the day, allies that she knows but he doesn't, allies that Alya and Nino probably know too, just like everything else, now that—

Was he the problem? Was it his fault, that Ladybug’s eyes turned shadowed and her movements wavered? He’s tried, he’s tried to be a rock for her, to be something constant and consistent as Adrien himself wants, but the horrible feeling that he’s not enough is now warring with the awful feeling that he’s the problem in the first place, because — why else? Why else would she shut him out like this? Why else would she decide he’s untrustworthy, after all this time, why—

The lights against his vision suddenly flare painfully bright, so bright Adrien’s forced to stagger back.

Vincent jolts away with a cry, waving his hand frantically as the camera sparks and sputters. Echoed cries of surprise ring throughout the studio as the overhead lights flicker wildly, turning the studio into a frightening mockery of a particularly bad nightclub.

Adrien stumbles again, alarm coursing through his veins like a cold burst of water, and he darts for the intern nearby, who’s fallen over in her scramble to back away from the strobing lights. She’s just taken his hand when the lights go dark, plunging the studio into blackness. Before anyone can react beyond a frightened shriek, the lights snap back on, bright and steady as if nothing’s happened.

Adrien slowly pulls the intern to her feet, staring at the blazing lights as his vision swims, blinking against the sudden onslaught of dark spots in his eyes.

“Is it an akuma?” the intern asks, her eyes wild with fear. “Should we — should we evacuate?”

Adrenaline shoots through Adrien’s veins, his head whipping back and forth as he searches for a spark of purple, for the familiar edge of butterfly’s wings. But there’s nothing out of place, save the sputtering camera Vincent’s fretting over. There’s no sign of garish transformation, no following explosions, no loudly proclaimed demands for miraculous. In fact, if Adrien hadn’t seen it himself, it would appear as if nothing’s ever happened at all.

“It could’ve been the power lines,” someone suggests. “This place is pretty old, you know.”

“With Agreste’s standards?” someone else mutters. “I doubt it.”

“The camera is broken. Unsalvageable,” Vincent announces over the outbreak of murmurs. To his credit, he barely sounds shaken. “It must have been a power failure, or a blown fuse, I suppose. Nothing we can help.”

Vincent’s word is all the rest of the crew needs, and before Adrien can clamber up to inspect the lights himself, he’s being ushered from the studio, another intern furiously muttering about how she refuses to be fired for losing a model to “subpar building inspections” or something along those lines.

Adrien, who is already anticipating Father’s reaction himself, can’t blame her for bailing the moment he’s in the Gorilla’s hands.

————

Adrien is six years and three months old when his father finally finishes reading Le Petite Prince to him, and he comes the closest he ever has to throwing a fit at the ending.

He doesn’t actually throw a fit, of course, because then his father might not read to him ever again. That they finished this book together is already more precious as anything Adrien’s ever owned, and he won’t ruin that with his dramatics.

“Not all stories have the happy endings you want, Adrien,” his father tells him. Adrien feels his arms tighten around his shoulders, where he sits snugly in his father’s lap. “Sometimes you must make the most of what you have.”

Even at a young age, Adrien knows that he has quite a lot. The knowledge only grows as he does, just how much he has from his last name alone. His room alone could rival some people’s homes, Adrien has no right to want for anything.

And yet.

Sometimes, Adrien thinks back to the deep timbre of his father’s voice as he reads about yellow snakes and desert flowers and feels a stinging sense of loss so sharply it takes his breath away.

Other times, though, Adrien thinks about his father choosing to read a story about a boy who could only return home by letting a snake poison him, and wonders what that says about their relationship.

It’s not even Father’s icy tone that hurts anymore, really, Adrien thinks, as he picks at his dinner. Not that he’s likely to hear that tone tonight. Father’s locked himself firmly in his office again, and even Nathalie is nowhere to be seen. It’s quiet enough that Adrien’s gotten away with heating up the cheapest dinner they have in the house, and scouring enough cheese for Plagg that he won’t be complaining for a month.

Well, a day, maybe. Plagg’s a special kind of greedy.

But it’s painstakingly clear that Adrien will be dining alone, tonight. There hasn’t even been a single message fro Nathalie, informing him of all the lessons he’s been falling short in lately. Adrien twists his fork in his hand, setting it down with a weary sigh as dark spots flicker before his eyes again.

At least there won’t be anyone to lecture him, he tells himself, tapping absently on the table. The smooth wood looks immaculate beneath his fingers, the edge of his pinky still a bruised purple from the other evening, when Adrien misjudged the distance from the rooftop to his own window.

Father won’t be able to lecture him about that, either, so it’s a good thing, really. It’s a good thing, that no one will be saying anything to him about the studio mishap earlier, or the darker than usual circles beneath his eyes, or he way he’s been showing up late more often than not to everything. Not about his slipping grades, or the way he keeps forgetting to hide his glare when photoshoots run longer than they’re supposed to.

It’s a good thing, Adrien tells himself, as his fingers clench around the table’s edge. It’s a good thing that he’s alone tonight. Being alone and unseen is much better than the alternative. It’s a good thing, that he can stew in whatever ugly emotions keep threatening to rise to the surface all by himself, where he won’t risk hurting anyone else with them. He can’t mess anything up if no one’s there to see it, so really, it’s a good thing, it’s—

It hits him, all-encompassing and overwhelming all at once.

Unwanted, thick and horrible and choking, the sensation of being traded out and traded off and stepped over, left behind and left out and laughed at in vicious whispers, closed doors and closed expressions and locking him out, like bars sliding down from the ceiling and cutting him off, trapped in place like an animal in the zoo, entertaining for a heartbeat than easily moved past for something better, unwanted and untrusted and alone, alone, alone again—

Adrien buckles and something howls in his ears, his hands burning as his fingers crunch through wood and his vision whites out.

For a heartbeat, Adrien isn’t Adrien — he’s the swelling of flames as fire catches light, he’s the pull of the undertow as it rips across the shore, he’s the blazing burst of lightning against metal, he’s on the edge of a cliff and stepping off—

And then he’s Adrien again, small and shaking and breathing in large, heaving gasps, trying desperately not to throw up all over the table.

“—drien, kid, Adrien, please!”

Adrien tears his hands from the table as if it’s shocked him. Black flecks drift from his fingers as they tremble, and Plagg splits into three as he flits in front of him, six pairs of green eyes staring at him in blazing concern.

“Plagg?” He barely recognizes his own voice, and his throat feels like sandpaper.

“Breathe,” Plagg orders as his image solidifies back to one, more serious than Adrien can remember him sounding. “You gotta breathe, Adrien.”

He does, in stuttering, shaky gasps, because Adrien will do anything Plagg asks him to. He’ll light himself on fire if he wanted, because Plagg is all he’s got.

Plagg is here, and that means more to Adrien than anything else could.

“Breathing,” he finally croaks out. “I’m — breathing, see? S’all good.”

It is most certainly not all good, because Adrien still feels like he got thrown off a building and into a blender, but Plagg almost looks frightened, looking from Adrien to the table to Adrien again, and—

Adrien freezes. The table. The stupidly, enormous, ridiculously expensive, lonely table his family’s supposed to use. The table he definitely, most certainly felt crunch under his hands.

Adrien follows Plagg’s gaze downwards, and suddenly feels like he’s going to throw up again.

“Oh,” he whispers.

Ice coats the inside of his chest, cold and creeping. The sidewalk. The mirrors, the studio camera, and now this.

“Adrien.” Plagg sounds so very serious.

He could explain most of it away. It’d be — it would be easy.

But this?

Adrien stares at the half-decayed table, ashes still flaking from the sides in a way that’s horribly distinctive of his cataclysm. A spiderwebbed path of smoldering destruction, all tracing back to where his fingers had been white-knuckled at the table’s edge.

Something snaps in the chandelier above him, cracking once and fizzling off into sparks.

It feels like something’s snapped in Adrien’s head. Maybe he’s lost it. Maybe he’s finally gone off the edge, and that — that can be his excuse, when Father asks him what, exactly, he did to the table. He can tell Father they’ve both lost it, they’ve both gone mad, and wouldn’t mom think this was all so funny—

A sound like a sob rips itself from his chest, before Adrien can strangle it into submission. He can’t lose it now. He can’t break down, he has to — he has to come up with a way to explain this, he has to find an escape, or Father’s going to be so angry, and so cold, and…and…

Adrien goes still. Like ice, numb and calming, he realizes he doesn’t have to worry about excuses. He doesn’t have to worry about any of that at all. No one’s coming. Not to check on him. The silence of the house is overpowering, the tiny patter of the vaporized table bits as they land on the floor almost thunderous.

“Adrien,” Plagg repeats, softer this time. “I need you to look at me.”

Slowly, he lifts his head, meeting Plagg’s bright green eyes with his own. Something in Plagg’s expression goes tight, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes before he schools them back into careful calm.

“Oh, kid.” Plagg’s voice is gentle. It still sounds like a lament.

Adrien tears his gaze away, swallowing. His fingers, still shaking, curl into unsteady fists. They feel odd, almost scalded. Adrien ignores it.

He can hide the table, he tells himself. He can fix the chandelier. No one will notice. He can hide this.

He’s Adrien Agreste.

He can deal with a couple of cracks in his facade.

#ml spoilers #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #nino's here as well #he's just not clogging up the fic with his internalizing like adrien is #ml season 4 spoilers #rocketear spoilers #i just have a lot of thoughts about the powers of destruction #and what that could mean potentially #if you weren't cowards mr astruc

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xxiaoyang · 4 years

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i've got you (too) | yangyang (m)

yangyang was the best at reading you. as much as he liked to play around, he was always there when you needed him.

words: 3.5k

warnings/tags: smut, non idol!au, college!au, unprotected sex, breeding?, switch!yangyang but kinda soft dom ig, sub!reader, hurt/comfort, love-making, feelings, fluff

a/n: this is just soft. build up but what’s new, it’s me and i can’t shut up about him.

yangyang was always good at reading you. he was like that with most people, observant enough to pick up on the mood around him. but with you, some days he may as well be reading your thoughts. at times it's like he knows what you're feeling before or better than you do. when you walked through the door of your shared apartment with hunched shoulders, he knew something was off.

he had finished class earlier, spending the remainder of his afternoon playing games online and eating whatever he could find in the pantry. you guys really needed to go shopping. he made a mental note to chide you about it later, his mischievous self always looking for a way to tease you, even knowing full well he was the one who ate all of the food.

he was sprawled out on the couch waiting for you, mindlessly clicking through youtube videos and watching as the time ticked on. it was now thirty minutes after your last class, and he couldn't stop the slight bit of worry that creeped into his mind.

your apartment was only about eight minutes from campus, having chosen it for that reason, so you should have been home already. and you always let him know when you were held up with work or going to be home later. it wasn't that you couldn't go about your day without letting him know what you were doing, he just worried when he didn't hear from you for a while. this was unusual for you two.

he sat up straight, shaking the negative thoughts out of his mind and checking his messages in case he'd missed one. nothing. that was weird. he decided to send you one and ask how you were doing, but before he could hit send the telltale click of your deadbolt filled his ears, his head snapping over to you, ready to give you an earful.

you walked through the door a second later, turning to lock it and remove your coat and shoes by the rack without a word. yangyang let a smirk curl at his lips and took the opportunity to poke fun at you.

"what took you so long! we ran out of snacks," he teased lightly, "i almost starved."

you turned in his direction, still silent, and it was then he could see the tired look on your face, your shoulders drooping and your legs barely holding you. his smirk was wiped away at the sight of you, his legs already making their way over to you.

he held your shoulders, tilting his head in an attempt to meet your eyes, but they were unfocused as you gazed off into space. he felt his heart crack at how defeated you looked.

"what's wrong, baby? talk to me." he let his hands fuss at you, straightening out your oversized sweater, a few gentle fingers coming to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. you didn't budge. you didn't even seem present in the room. your head stayed lowered in its position. he began to worry that something bad had actually happened.

taking your face into one of his hands he turned you in his direction, checking you for any clues that could help him figure it out.

"did something happen? did someone do something to you? at least tell me you're okay."

the hint of panic in his voice brought you to your senses, pulling you from your zoned out state to look into his eyes. it was like you hadn't even registered him there. as the warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, his eyes searching yours so intensely, you felt yours sting with tears. tears you didn't realize you were holding back.

that had him springing into action. yangyang was an energetic and playful boy, but he was serious when he needed to be and he knew exactly how to take care of you when you needed him.

"oh baby, come here," he cooed, pulling you into his arms and stroking the back of your head softly. as soon as he did, your arms were clinging to him, your form shaking slightly in his hold. he was sure his heart had broken, your weak sobs making him want to cry too. but he wouldn't, for you.

he waited patiently for you to let it all out, holding you by the door until you were ready to talk. when you sniffled and lifted your head, he brushed the hair from your forehead, staying quiet and giving you room to speak.

"i'm sorry." he knew you were going to apologize, but let you keep going. "i wasn't ignoring you, i was held up after class and i just wanted to come home so badly but he wouldn't let me and i didn't even realize the time."

"was it that professor?" you nodded, yangyang following suit in understanding. the one who always gave you a hard time about your assignments.

"that prick. one of these days i'm going to have to give that old man a talking to," he pouted, earning a giggle and a weak slap on the arm from you. he continued, "i will! i'm not above fighting an old person."

your giggles erupted into a full belly laugh, your bright smile returning to your face, lighting up the room once again. there you were.

he just watched you with his big gummy smile, happy that, for the most part, you were okay and that you were smiling again.

"i was just kidding, by the way, i wasn't actually starving."

you shook your head, scoffing at him. "you can get your own food, you know," you teased back weakly.

he didn't respond, his deep brown eyes boring into you and making you feel small. "well... what do you want to have? it's still a bit early for dinner but we can start to make something. or order something later?" you asked.

yangyang shook his head, his hands holding you by your waist and pulling you closer to him. "i don't really want to eat right now."

your eyebrows furrowed together, "mm, okay. what do you want then?"

he leaned forward until he was flat against you, a hand trailing down your back as he spoke, "just want you. let me make you feel better."

the intent behind his words was made clear to you by his actions, his hand rubbing soothingly into the small of your back and sending a shiver down your spine. he kissed the side of your head down to your neck, stopping before he reached the sensitive skin there.

you felt yourself melting into him, your exhausted brain shutting down at his smooth voice. you felt out of control of yourself. most of all, you felt needy, wanting him more than anything now.

you leaned into him, legs nearly giving out, a small hum in the back of your throat. he smiled to himself, stepping back to place a hand behind your knees and scoop you up into his arms.

you were both shocked and impressed by the action, unaware that he had such strength. the revelation making you feel even smaller in his grasp.

yangyang carried you to your bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed and shifting you into his lap so you were sat across his legs.

one hand traced patterns on your back, his other hand smoothing up and down your thigh. he was waiting you out to make sure you wanted to continue. "are you sure this is okay? if you want we can just cuddle and watch tv or nap. those are good to me too."

your heart clenched at your boyfriend's sweet words, his soft tone breaking you down into a yearning mess for him. the feeling was unfamiliar to you, with you usually having good control of them. you just nodded and hid your face in his chest.

he chuckled and lifted you from his lap to stand you in front of him, his long legs on each side of you. "let's get these off of you."

his movements were slow and calculated as he pulled your sweater over your head. he was treating you like fragile china that would shatter in his hands at any moment. it only made you weaker. with the same carefulness he removed your bottoms, leaving you bare in front of him while he was still fully clothed.

you felt like you had been put under a microscope, acutely aware of his gaze as his eyes wandered over every curve and dip of your body. if the pure adoration wasn't so present in his eyes, you might have felt a bit self-conscious. the only thing you felt was the overwhelming desire for him to take you right there.

you were having trouble finding your words, unsure of what you even wanted to say, so you just tugged at the bottom of his hoodie hoping he'd get the hint.

he grinned, that mischievous grin you'd come to love, and pulled it over his head in one swift motion, his toned chest and arms on display for your glazed over eyes. you were barely thinking anymore, just feeling. the heaviness of the atmosphere weighed on you, making you crave him more.

your hands flew to smooth skin, fingers trailing over his prominent collar bones to his shoulders that had gotten bigger in recent months. he shivered when you dragged your nails down his abdomen, feeling up every part of him.

it wasn't usually like this. you and yangyang were pretty much always on the same wavelength, being more inclined to have fun and be less serious when you were having sex, even trying new things in a space that was more lighthearted. but this was different. this was much deeper. it was so intimate.

you felt yourself growing more timid, which was another first. your dynamic with him was different, as well, you being the one who was more experienced and typically leading. it alternated back and forth between you two, yangyang's ability to read people being very helpful for times when you didn't feel like being in control. but even in those times, you still had control - over yourself. now you just felt vulnerable and dazed. if it weren't yangyang making you feel that way, it would have terrified you.

but the boy, with his big sparkly eyes that were looking up at you now, only filled your heart with warmth, no fear present. without realizing it you had crawled back into his lap, fingers fiddling with the button of his jeans in a lazy attempt to undo it.

he laughed from deep in his chest, amused by the far off look on your face as you fumbled your way around him. he kept his comments to himself, only pressing his lips to your forehead and pushing his pants down his hips.

when you didn't make a move to let him take them off, he lifted you in his arms once again, flipping you slowly and laying you under the plush blanket.

he knew your mind was shutting off and it had his chest swelling with fullness to know he made you comfortable enough to get that way. you were always the responsible one, so often shouldering the burdens and taking care of him on top. you rarely let your guard down, even with him at times. it took him a while just to get you to open up to him in the beginning. but even at your most vulnerable, you always maintained control.

to be able to see those walls come down and for you to allow yourself to. to put enough trust in him to have total control over you made his heart pound behind his ribs. he wanted to be everything you needed, everything you were to him. to make you feel special and cared for and safe. he knew it would take a while, and now that it's here, he feels so full. full of love for you. and he just wants to show that to you.

yangyang quickly tore off his jeans and crawled up to you on the bed, leaving a trail of kisses up your leg, over your stomach and chest all the way to your lips, molding his together with yours and warming you from the inside out.

tugging at the blankets beneath you to pull them up, he moved so you both were under the covers, and settled himself between your legs on top of you.

he looked down at you with such fondness in his eyes, taking in every small detail and gracing every spot with a kiss as he went. the adoration he felt for you was immeasurable, all consuming. you were so special to him. you understood him and complimented him in a way no one else could, always making him feel loved and seen. now he could return the gesture.

yangyang lowered himself and kissed you with all the emotions he couldn’t contain, something so tender and full of passion. the warmth that was radiating from him was so overwhelming you could cry right there. but you just kissed him back, meeting him in that place and returning his devotion.

he held you close in his embrace, a hand wandering down your stomach to your side and rubbing at your hipbone with his thumb. his fingers danced across your thigh to your core, met with the slick heat of your folds. he parted them with a finger, spreading your wetness up and down, kissing you all the while. his tongue brushed against yours in slow, focused motions. he let his finger slide back down, dipping into your entrance and making you gasp on his lips.

he slid his finger into you all the way, curling it and drawing broken whines from you. yangyang moved back and began crawling down between your legs and your hands flew to him, grabbing at his shoulders to stop him.

you shook your head, clinging to him, “don’t need to. want you inside.”

he froze, stomach flipping at your demure tone as he returned to his spot over you. “okay, baby, let me grab a condom-”

“no,” you held his arms, lifting your hips to meet his untended erection, “want you like this, if that’s okay.”

he crashed his lips against yours, nodding and moaning into you, his need for you just as intense. he used a hand to trace along your slit with his length, coating himself in your essence before pressing the tip to your opening. slowly he pushed into you, your muscles loosening to accommodate his width. the defined edges of his head rubbed against your walls deliciously as he inched himself into you further, the feeling already too much for you in this state.

he stilled, lips parting from yours to search your eyes for any discomfort, finding none. you pulled him back to you and encouraged him with a small thrust of your hips. without hesitation he pushed the rest of his length into you, bottoming out and reaching a place inside you that had your body humming with satisfaction. he was so close, you could feel every detail of him, hot and twitching in your center. you thought for a second that you could even stay like this, but you wanted more of him.

when you wiggled your hips, he got the hint, laughing through his nose where his lips were pressed to your jaw. “tell me how you want it, baby.”

“don’t care. just want to feel you deep inside.”

he couldn’t help but find you adorable and stroked your cheek, pushing aside the feelings that arose in him to focus on you. yangyang lifted himself on his arms and pulled out of you, thrusting back into you with a force that had you arching off the bed.

lowering his head to your chest, he kissed your breast so softly you almost didn’t register it, a whimper escaping when he took your nipple between his lips.

he paid special attention to all of your sensitive areas, making sure to cover every part of you with his affection, while rolling his hips into you in a slow rhythm. it wasn’t like you to just lie and take it, you always wanted to make him feel good too. but you were sure that if it weren’t involuntary, you wouldn’t even be breathing right now.

yangyang returned to your lips, pouring himself into you and giving you all that he could. he was losing himself in you already, quickly coming undone from the velvet feel of you wrapped around him so tightly. he wanted to be as close to you as possible, to be one with you. he increased his speed, pumping into you harder trying to get as much friction as he could for the both of you.

each thrust sent shivers across your skin. he was thrusting into you so hard you swore you could feel it in your womb. the thought had you bringing your legs up around him to hold him closer, all sorts of primal desires swimming in your mind.

he shifted in your hold, hitting that sweet spot in you with his next thrust and ripping a cry from your throat. at your reaction he picked up the pace, now pounding into you and rendering you a moaning, panting mess. you’d never felt this good before, feeling the heat pooling in your core and building up with pressure.

you felt like you were drifting away from yourself, from reality. you couldn’t hear any outside sounds or see anything besides the white taking over your vision. you weren’t even thinking. all of your senses were overtaken by one thing; yangyang. your body ached with the need to feel him even deeper inside of you. you wanted him to push himself into you as far as he could and plant his seed there. you wanted him to mark you on the inside, in the deepest, most intimate way. it was all you could think.

"please,” your voice sounded separate from you, struggling to form the words, “please fill me. want you to fill me up. make me yours.”

yangyang felt like his arms were going to give out on him, the meaning of what you said flashing in his mind and making him quake from deep within. you two had always played it safe, even though you were on birth control, he would always pull out and finish somewhere else. hearing you ask for him to finish inside you had his control slipping, his movements growing sloppier as he chased that feeling.

he crashed his lips against yours, nodding and moaning against you. his hips drilled into you and had you tightening around him, the feeling drawing airy moans from his lips. the air was permeated with the sounds of skin slapping and heavy breathing, but the only thing he could focus on was your sweet voice.

lowering himself onto his elbows he slid his hands under your back, hugging you and burying his face in your neck as he felt himself nearing the edge. “you gonna come for me, baby? let go all over my dick while i fill you up?”

you whined and rut your hips up into his, dragging your nails across his back and making him hiss. you nodded, pleading with him to keep going, to give it to you, that being the only thought you could form. “i’m-”

everything went white, then seeped into a warm gold like sunlight pouring over you, your body as weightless as a fluffy cloud floating in the sky. the only thing keeping you on earth being yangyang’s touch and his smooth voice as he reached his high immediately after you, burying himself in you and filling you in your deepest part.

yangyang moaned against your neck as he rode out his high, lightly bucking his hips and milking himself in you, giving you every last drop in him.

you felt his cum in spurts, spilling into you and spreading heat to your womb. you’d never felt anything like it before. you felt full. you felt whole. and you felt absolutely weightless as you came down from your high, your senses flooded as you drifted back into the room.

when you opened your eyes you were met with the dim light pouring in from the living room and yangyang resting his head on your shoulder. everything seemed to have a rosy tint to your eyes, the room glowing faintly pink.

yangyang raised his head to look at you, a small smile coming to his lips and making him look like the cute boy you had fallen for some time ago. the sparkle in his eyes made your heart skip and you pulled him in for a kiss, melting into his touch. he let himself drop onto you, still seated inside of you.

when it came to yangyang, everything else fell away. there was nothing that took over your mind more than him. nothing that you made feel as whole as you did now. as complete as you did, just having him this close. you felt you could stay like this with him forever.

#yangyang #yangyang smut #wayv smut #wayv #liu yangyang #nct #nct smut #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #im really so broken #i #i need a lobotomy #goodnight

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guilty | knj x reader | epilogue: better than okay

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, smut, fluff. a lot of fluff. SO MUCH FLUFF. but also smut. am i making any sense? is this thing on?

rating: 18+

word count: 1.9K

author’s note: okay, guys. here is an unplanned, totally out-of-left-field drabble/epilogue for guilty. i got a few messages from you guys that you’d love to check in on these two after the night in the penthouse. once i saw those messages, it’s like i couldn’t unsee them and i had to write this before i could move on with my life to give mr. min yoongi the guarded treatment he deserves.

this is fluffy. lots of feelings? it’s interesting because i’ve never alluded to marriage or children or even had my characters “use the L word” in any of my fics. it’s not usually my style, i guess? i like to leave a lot of the feelings implied. BUT in this case, i felt it was appropriate.

i hope you guys like this. i hope it’s a satisfying wrap to the story of these two characters. i can’t wait to get going on yoongi’s story and hope to have something out on that soon. beta read by the amazing @ladyartemesia and @hobi-gif two brains i cannot live without!

thanks to every last one of you who read and message me about these fics. i wish you knew how genuinely happy that makes me.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03

***********************

The villa is quiet but for the muted whirr of the air conditioning units when you return.

You walk from room to room, coming up empty each time you open a new door. It’s only when you walk out back to the deck that you find them.

They’re napping together in the sun, faces shaded by an oversized beach umbrella.

Dasom is curled securely into her father’s side, lashes moist against cheeks rosy with heat. One chubby arm draped over his chest, possessive over him even in sleep. You’ve come to accept that this is the way of things these days -- Dasom is in the throes of an all-consuming daddy phase. Your little girl seems to have conveniently forgotten which of you did all the hard work of bringing her into the world.

You stare down into her beautiful, traitorous little face -- tucked into his golden, carved body and your heart does a funny little flip.

You didn’t know it was possible to love this deeply.

Namjoon stirs when you delicately extract Dasom from his hold, careful not to wake her. He pouts even before he’s fully awake, mourning the loss of her comforting weight. It’s only then that his eyes open -- hooded and drowsy -- and the corners of his mouth quirk into a tired smile.

There’s that funny little flip again.

You put one finger over your lips to silence him and he nods, eyes falling shut one more time.

***********************

You handle Dasom with the kind of care you’d give a live bomb.

You carry her back into the villa slowly, afraid to make a sound and careful to avoid any sudden movements. It’s a painstaking process but eventually your hard work pays off. After some very careful footwork she is lying down in the crib, one hand fisted into her favorite blanket.

The one that smells like daddy, of course.

You stand there and watch the steady rise and fall of her chest for a while.

It’s a stroke of serendipity that Dasom favors your mother as much as she does. You never would have imagined she’d share a face as well as a name with the matriarch she’ll never meet.

Life has such an interesting way of coming full circle sometimes.

*************************

Namjoon is still resting when you make your way back to the deck.

His long, strong body is sprawled out across the massive sun chaise, droplets of water not yet vaporized by the sun clinging to his skin and hair. He looks so young like this -- rested and peaceful and bronzed -- millions of mental miles away from the pressure of his responsibilities in Seoul.

You’ll never get over how handsome he is.

Never.

You’d come home from your massage today with a very specific goal in mind -- but you take one look at your sleeping husband and hesitate. These moments really are so few and far between for him.

You should let him rest.

You bend down to drop a soft kiss on his cheek before heading back inside. But as you straighten to leave, his hands come up to grab you. Strong fingers grip your waist, dragging you down onto the chaise.

Onto him.

“Namjoon,” you whisper a paper-thin protest, lips at his ear. The rough material of his swim trunks scrapes against your thighs as you straddle him. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Why would I do that,” he murmurs, hands stroking down your sides, “when I could be doing this?”

Good question.

He kisses you then, slow and languorous, pressing you into his chest with hands splayed against the small of your back. You sigh when they slip lower to grip your ass -- to drag you against the cock now stirring to life between his legs.

“You really do need your rest,” you protest as his lips move up the column of your neck.

“Quit bossing me around,” he mutters, nipping at you like a reprimand. “I know exactly what I need.”

His hands stray from the cup of your ass then, slipping under your sundress and just a heartbeat later you feel his smile against your skin.

He hums his satisfaction at finding you completely bare beneath the thin material. His fingertips glide over the soft skin of your legs, touch feather-light.

“You were gonna let me sleep, huh?”

“Yes, of course,” you insist, rolling your hips experimentally against the bulge you can now feel throbbing beneath you, straining against his trunks.

“Liar,” he accuses, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver up your back. His hands drop to the hem of your dress and he pulls it over your head in one smooth motion, throwing it aside.

You lean into him, claiming a kiss with one arm wrapped around his neck. Namjoon lets you steer this one, content to let you explore his mouth at your own pace. Your hands card into his hair and you grind down against him as you taste him, taking his bottom lip between your teeth.

Microscopic grains of sand tickle your skin as your body slides against his.

There’s no concern for privacy, despite the fact that you’re naked on top of your husband in the outdoors. This piece of Jeju Island is Namjoon’s, and the armed men who stand guard at the entrance to this compound at his command are tasked with ensuring no one and nothing comes near.

This is the safest place in the world right now.

At this villa. On this chaise. In his arms.

Namjoon makes an impatient sound from deep in his chest while you rock mindlessly against him. He slips a hand down to your apex and drags one long finger across your opening. He groans when he finds you messy for him, thighs slick with sweat and excitement.

“Minx,” he teases, teeth at your neck. “I’m playing right into your hands.”

“So you are,” you agree as he kisses his way down, mouth open and wet against your breast until he reaches one aching nipple, already at attention. He rakes his teeth over it and you suck in a sharp breath, jolting at the stimulation. Then he turns his head to mouth at the other nipple, softer this time. You jerk again in his hold.

“Sensitive?” he muses, one brow lifted.

“V-very,” you stammer, pulling back. “It’s too much.”

Namjoon makes a curious sound under his breath as he pulls you closer. Your nipples graze against the sun-warm planes of his chest but this time the sensation is bearable, skirting closer to pleasure than pain.

You tighten your hold around his neck, moaning when he sinks one finger inside of you, thumb closing over your clit at the same time.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Namjoon knows exactly how to touch you, where and for how long. He can take you apart and put you back together with breathtaking precision now that he knows you -- quite literally -- inside and out. Years of trial and error distilled down to the most masterful strokes, culminating in skill that has you shaking in his arms in no time.

“No, Jagi,” he chides, sensing you’re well on your way to coming undone with his fingers inside of you and his mouth against yours. “Save this one for me.”

You whine on an exhale when he pulls away from you long enough to shove his swim trunks off his hips. He takes himself in hand, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watches you.

“What is it?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

You cross your arms over yourself without thinking. Your body has changed so much since Dasom came into the world. It’s impossible to ignore the new fullness of your breasts, the added roundness in your hips and thighs.

Namjoon tuts under his breath.

“Don’t hide from me,” he admonishes quietly, pulling you back in. “I just like to look at you sometimes.” He lifts your hips over his with steady hands, gazing up into your face. “Still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

He punctuates that sentiment with his cock, guiding you down and lifting his own hips to meet yours halfway. You whimper at the perfect fullness you feel when he’s anchored deep, completely sheathed inside of you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe, rocking impatiently into his deliberate grind. “God, you feel so good.”

He smiles into the kiss he plants on you; rolling his hips slowly, thrusts careful and unhurried.

Here there’s no urgent calls waiting, no Seokjin or Yoongi to interrupt -- just you and him melding together against the backdrop of the beach and waves. He savors this moment -- basks in it -- cock buried deep inside of you, lips plush against yours.

It goes on like that, slow and sweaty and snug, until the release he’d stirred inside of you just a few moments ago threatens again. You feel it looming, circling when he pulls his knees up and strokes deep against your most sensitive spots. You pull your mouth away to cry out and his grip on your hips tightens, keeping you from pulling back.

“Come apart for me Jagi,” he groans, thrusts building in intensity, “Come around me.”

You’ve never been able to deny him a thing -- and certainly not this.

You stop fighting back against the pleasure, surrendering to the sensation. You let it wash over you, holding tight to Namjoon for balance as his own release ignites. He whispers your name over and over as his thrusts become frenzied, thighs straining when he empties himself inside of you.

You fall onto him then, spent and limp.

You lie together like that for a while, bodies warm in the sun, the sound of water lapping against the shore lulling you both into relaxation. Namjoon drops a kiss on your temple, fingers tracing soft lines up and down your spine.

Everything is going to be okay.

Your think back to the penthouse and the promise Namjoon made to you at the very beginning. Since then it’s become a shared mantra of sorts, whispered between you both during times of trouble.

He’d promised you that again when you thought grief would pull you apart at the seams after your mother died. You promised the same to him when his worry and doubts about fatherhood nearly broke him in the months before Dasom’s arrival.

“Our baby isn’t a baby anymore,” Namjoon laments in a whisper, interrupting your thoughts. “I was watching her today on the beach, walking in the sand. She’s so independent now. Not much longer and she won’t even need me.”

“Don’t be silly,” you soothe. “She’s always going to need you.”

He hums thoughtfully, chest rumbling beneath you.

“Well, I was thinking -- ” he clears his throat before continuing, “ -- that maybe it’s time for another.”

You tuck your head under his chin, smiling to yourself.

“Another?”

“Another baby.”

“That’s a good idea,” you murmur, taking one of his hands in yours. You guide it down to the swell of your belly, relishing the way he sucks in a deep breath.

“Really?

“Really.”

“Now?”

“Not now now,” you tease. “Now as in about seven months from now.”

Namjoon slips two fingers under your chin to tip your lips towards his.

“That’s good, Jagi,” he exhales, kissing you softly. “That’s real good.”

He winds his fingers through yours and you stare at your joined hands.

Everything is going to be okay.

But everything is not okay.

It’s so much better than that.

*********************

tagging: @taetaewonderland @ppersonna @yeojaa @sahmfanficbts @prettyguardiansailormin @barbikatherine @55west81st @laabellaavitaa21 @codeinebelle @jalexad @trynavibewhileicry @poohsaidhi @eltrain80 @bluewhale52 @krystle1990 @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag @hauntedlilies @kjooniesbabygirl @unicorn5090 @parkjimin-persona @julia-pacheco-blog @veryuniquenamegoeshere @katbonv @sunkissed725 @yourdaydreamerfan

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon mafia #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #btscreatorscorner #bangtanarmynet

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

Sixth day of Christmas...

Trope: Sex Pollen (NSFW) Relationship: Alien x Human Word Count: 4,639

Living in a science station on a barely explored planet may sound like the start of a horror story. For me, it's a dream come true. To study life on a dwarf planet with a single colleague is the total isolation I crave. It's a real perk that my coworker is such a sweetheart. I've spent countless trips trying to keep my cool around cocky narcissistic scientists whose only goal is to make some profound breakthrough. My coworker this time isn't even remotely like that.

Aziraphale is a Silphurs, a cold-blooded species that has nearly a reptilian look to them. With their horn-like spikes that protrude from the back of their head and long smooth tails, most people quickly label them as lizards. Though they lack scales, to my surprise. When Aziraphel first began working beside me I was fascinated by his smooth dark leathery skin. I promptly weirded him out the first week as I appraised him like a prized pig. It was a habit I slowly grew out of.

Together we work in isolation upon dwarf planet Xena, studying the flora and fauna of this little island in space.

Today we are looking at a new flower that's been popping up around the lakes. It's a small pink crocus looking flower, fit with a thick stem. The wildlife has been swarming these little buds and it's stirred up quite the mystery for Aziraphel and I. with the coming of 'spring' the flowers have sprouted very quickly.

"So you say the mammals have been eating them," I ask, looking at the potted plant.

"Birds too. Though the insects have kept their distance," Aziraphel explains.

I hum in thought," the first plant we found that insects aren't fond of."

Aziraphale plucks a petal off the flower, taking it over to his station. I continue to exam the bud, looking at the roots through the container. All week we have been watching this plant in the wild, utterly fascinated by its attractive properties.

"Could it be the nectar? It may be a tasty treat for the animals," Aziraphel asks offhandedly. I shrug, stepping over the bin holding the plant. Leaning over I give the flower a sniff, admiring its sweet scent.

"Smells like the honey candies my mother use to give me," I say.

"really? I thought it smelled rather musky," he says over his shoulder," I can smell it from here."

I take another whiff, doubling down on my honey candy choice.

"Olfactory senses are a bit different between you and me, it seems," I joke," yours being about a hundred times better than mine."

He scoffs, picking off pieces of the petal," it's a miracle your people survived this long with clearly insufficient senses."

I snort, walking over towards him," bold coming from someone who can't hear when the microwave goes off." he throws a glare my way, his smile ruining its seriousness. I snicker, walking around to begin looking at the cells of this attractive plant.

Staring down in the microscope I take not of the plant cell, watching the cell wall break from the solution I added. The proteins break apart, spilling out the cytoplasm. The organelles follow, breaking at they come in contact with the solution. As I watch, a bead of sweat rolls into my eyes. I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my coat, groaning at the heat.

"Hey, I know you're cold-blooded and all but I'm dying over here," I call out. I hear him swivel out of his chair and walk over to the thermostat.

"it's only 70 in here, I thought you agreed that was the optimal temperature," he passes me a teasing smile. I swipe at my head again, reaching back and pulling my hair up. Fanning myself with my hand I look to him.

"Well, I'm sweating up a storm over here," I answer.

"don't think you're getting sick, do you?" he walks over. He presses his palm to my head, I relish in the cold. "You're burning up," he reaches down to my cheeks," you're all red." I can't help but turn in his palm, stealing his cold for my own. He doesn't let go, pressing his palms flush to my skin.

"Only this one time will I admit that being cold-blooded has benefits," I press his hand against my forehead.

"fine by me, I get to steal your warmth," he smiles," but I can't stand here all day, I'll get you a cold rag."

I watch him walk away, uncomfortably warm immediately. He grabs and wets a rag, looking strangely appealing as he does. His clothes hug is slim frame well, his pants framing his legs nicely. As he catches me staring I turn away embarrassed. He walks over and places the cold rag on my head. The instant relief nearly makes me groan.

"thank you," I hold the rag for him.

"No problem. Do you want to go back to you're room," he asks, pressing his palm to my cheek again.

"no, no," I shake my head," I'm just a little warm, I think I'll make it." he hums, not really agreeing.

"if you say so, but if you feel worse I'm forcing you to go to your room," he scolds. I roll my eyes, swatting his hand away.

"Ok, mom," I joke," I promise I'll stop working if I get worse."

We get back to work, standing on different ends of the room. I put up my hair and keep the rag on the back of my neck. Sweat soaks through my shirt after a bit, dampening my hair. It's hard to focus on work, losing my breath once in a while. My heart feels like it's racing and I'm prone to dizzy spells when I walk too far. I try to power through.

I sit at my desk, dropping my head to the back of my chair. I try to use the rag to cool my face but it has begun to warm up. Frustrated I toss the useless towel to the table. My heart bangs against my chest and I can't seem to catch my breath. I feel wrong, dizzy, and incomplete. A dull ache begins in my lower stomach, migrating further south till I feel like I'm throbbing. I don't understand this new need, an empty feeling that's starting to make me panic.

Aziraphale walks over to check on me, already concerned as he spots me.

"Are you alright, you do- whooaa," he recoils from my desk, covering his nose. I watch him fidget by the door, looking lost between running and staying put. It's kind of cute.

"What's wrong," I lull my head to the side. He startles, snapping his eyes to me.

"Uh, it just smells rather musky in here," he answers, selecting his words carefully," I think you're sick."

I try to sit up, groaning as I do," yea, I don't feel too well. I should probably go lay down."

"g-great idea," he fidgets," do you, uh, need some help?" I try to wave him off, leaning forward out of the chair. As I stand I sway. I catch myself on the desk the same time Aziraphel grabs at my hips. His cold hands burn through my clothes like a block of ice. It's sharp and intoxicating. I groan, dropping forward against his chest. His body is freezing against my scorching skin, I can't help but run my hands over his neck, cuddling my cheek against him. I feel him gulp.

"Terri," he squeaks," w-what are you doing?" I can't pay attention, too focused on touching every visible bit of him. He is all I can think about, all I need. A small part of me is dying of embarrassment but the comfort is all I can think about.

"Cold," I purr under his jaw. My hands reach up under his shirt, touching his flat stomach. My insides throb as I feel him up, wanting more from him than just his cold skin.

"Terri," he yelps," t-this is- I can't-" he whimpers at the end. His hands grab at my shoulders, not really pushing or pulling. I continue, lifting his shirt to his chest. Pressing my forehead to his sternum I begin pressing soft kisses to his pecs. His leathery skin is so divine, soothing me like nothing else. I crave more, demand more.

Aziraphale is flustered at all the attention, bumbling like a fool as he tries to figure out what to do. He finally tugs me away, taking a step back with a deep breath.

"Terri, what is going on with you," he pants," this isn't like you."

I actively try to fight back the urge to jump him, focusing on staying put. Looking at him becomes too hard that I have to turn away.

"I-I don't know," I say between breaths," I'm so hot and bothered that I can't think straight."

"are you, uh," he hesitates," aroused?"

I snap to attention," excuse me?"

"Sorry," he jumps," it's just you smell…so good." his voice drops at the end, a rumbling purr. The sound shocks straight to my clit, nearly bringing me to my knees. I whimper, fisting the fabric of my pants.

"D-don't do that," I whine," you'll kill me if you do that."

"Sorry," he rubs at his face," let's just get you to your room and you can take a cold bath."

I weakly nod.

He helps me to my room, keeping a distance until I sway. Every time his hands touch me I'm nearly undone, falling into his arms and fighting back the urge to kiss him. It's a long walk to my room.

We make it to my room where we stand around awkwardly. He stays by the door but he doesn't look like he wants to leave. His fingers fidget with his shirt, picking at the ends. I'm hyper-focused on every move he makes, my muscles thrumming with energy.

"Well, I'll leave you to it and try to find out what's wrong," he shifts back and forth on each leg," yes, g-goodbye"

Seeing his back sends a wave of panic over me, forcing me into action. I jump for him, snatching him by the shirt and tugging him towards me. In a haze, I grab his face and force his mouth against mine. It's forceful and harsh, his teeth nick at my bottom lip. At this moment…it's intoxicating.

I pull back, looking at his wide-eyed face. He looks at me, scared and excited. I huff.

"Don't go," I beg. He nods," will you help me?" he nods again.

I tug him into the room, him closing the door behind himself. We stare at one another, the calm before the storm. Quickly I jump on him, wrapping my arms and legs around his body. I pull him into another kiss, grabbing at the spikes on the back of his head. His hands hold the back of my thighs, eagerly trying to kiss me back. It's clear he has no experience with this, just following my lead the best he can. Either way, it's making my lower stomach ache.

He fumbles his way to the bedroom, bumping into the bed with a grunt. I'm dropped onto my back, him crawling on over me. I tear at his clothes, petting at every newly revealed inch. He tries to get my shirt off but he's just getting in the way. Frustrated, I push him off and onto his back. I straddle his hips, throwing his shirt off in a rushed frenzy. He sits back and lets me work.

I crave to lick every bit of his chest, nibbling and sucking the cold leathery skin. My hips grind against him, feeling a hard protrusion poking at me. There's so much I want, I need, to do to him. I kiss up his body before slanting my lips against his. My tongue peaks between his lips, startling him. He timidly presses his against mine, groaning as I twirl mine with his.

I don't notice one of his hands sneaking between us. Only when he slides his fingers into my pants do I whimper in his mouth. He palms at my crotch, getting his bearings before he slides between my lips. The curious prod to my engorged clit makes my back arch. His gentle poke is nearly enough to break me apart. He slides the pad of his finger over me, I tear myself off his lips and bury my head against his neck.

"P-please," I huff and puff. He pets me, paying attention to my little nub with laser focus. I writhe and wiggle, whimpering and whining near his ear. My body feels on fire, ready to burst with minimal attention. A few more swipes and I'm crying out his name. I'm grinding hard into his hand, forcing his touch till I get my fill.

As my bucking slows Aziraphel tries to take his hand back. I flatten my body against him, trapping him with a growl.

"Do you feel better," he whispers, his trapped hand petting at my stomach.

" a-a little," I trace my nose under his jaw," it's still too hot." he hums in thought.

Before I know it I'm twisted on my back, Aziraphel between my legs. His eyes are focused, calculating, as he reaches for my pants and tugs them down my legs. Tossing the clothing aside he lays on his stomach between my legs, staring at my soaked cunt. I flush at his attention, aroused and nervous at the same time.

"What a-are you doing," my stomach twitches as the urge to buck towards him is strong. He grabs my hips, holding me still as he studies me.

"I have an idea," he mumbles. I whimper as I take in the whole sight, Aziraphel laying between my legs without his shirt. He tears his eyes from my pussy to me, softening slightly at my debauched face. His thumb pets at my hips as he gives me a sweet smile. I whine again.

Aziraphale looks back to my cunt, lowering his head and taking a tentative lick up my seam. My back arches as a moan tears up my throat. He takes another more confident lick, touching at my entrance and clit. I feel dizzy. More certain he presses his lips to mine and laps at my cunt. I wriggle and buck in his hold, clenching my eyes shut against the pleasure. It's hot and lava-like. His tongue is warmer than his body but cold to me. It's erotic and holy to my needy cunt.

I peek down at him, watching him eat me out. His thumb still pets at my hips, adding a small bit of appeal alongside his mouth. His eyes are closed, pleased hum vibrating into his tongue. He seems to enjoy this as much as me, his tail lazily swinging back and forth down the bed. Watching him is enough to push me over the edge, reaching down and grinding his head against my crotch. He groans with me, nearly purring as I shout out my pleasure.

He stops as I fall back into the bed, releasing his head in favor of fisting my hair. I take a moment to catch my breath, watching the lovely sight of him crawling back over me. He pets at my thigh, rubbing soothing circles against my skin.

"You feeling better," he asks. I shrug, getting distracted by the throbbing tent in his pants. The thing moves with every breath, begging me to grab him with a single-minded focus. I reach for his belt, trying to tug him forward. He swipes my hand away.

"No, we aren't doing that," he scolds," I got to let myself have some morals here. I'm already taking advantage of you." I pout, ready to try to persuade him. He distracts me with a finger between my legs, prodding at my entrance before sinking in. I grunt, damn near purring as he adds another.

The day is spent in utter bliss. He takes good care of me, not leaving me wanting for too long. He keeps his pace till I'm passed out in the sheets, feeling cooler than I did earlier. It seems all it took was some beautiful orgasms to soothe this beast.

I wake up the next morning alone, feeling sore but sated. I don't know if the fact that I'm alone should be good or bad. Heading off to the bathroom I try to convince myself that's it's for the best. I don't even know how I'll face him today, remembering how I jumped him like some uncontrollable whore.

The morning in the lab is…tense. He tiptoes around me and I can't help but do the same. The conversation is kept so single sentence answers. We both try to stay out of the other's way, even making up excuses to be on the opposite side of the room.

I sit in my little cubicle with my desk, trying hard not to look out to the lab and watch Aziraphel. It's a losing battle. I watch him walk by the crocus flower, pausing for a moment. He leans over the bin and takes a tentative sniff. He chuffs, scratching at his nose.

"Terri," he calls out," I think I figured something out."

A bit too eager I hop out of my chair and head over to him. My body thrums slightly the closer I get. Before I can stop next to him he grabs me by the shoulders and guides me away from the bin. I allow him, confused all the while.

"We should put the flower in a contained area," he suggests, meeting my eyes for the first time today. My thoughts come back to now, caught off guard by his suggestion. d "What," I ask. He flusters a bit, looking over to the flower then back at me.

"Well, you see," he stumbles, petting at the back of his neck," I think.. Perhaps the…" his shoulders sag. "The flower kind of smells like how you did yesterday and I'm almost convinced it's what made you sick," he finally spits out. I gawk at him, thinking back on yesterday's events. That morning I took a whiff of the flower, not thinking much of it, and shortly after started getting symptoms. It's a fair guess, perhaps even the correct answer.

"I think you might be right," I huff in amusement," it explains why the animals have been eating it. Spring is mating season."

"I feel rather silly now having to lock away a plant," he laughs," a rather potent aphrodisiac to mammals and birds. Makes sense why it didn't work for me." I chuckle along with him, it dying off back into an uncomfortable silence. It's clear he's uncomfortable with what happened yesterday. Hell, I am too. But there is no reason we can't be adults about this.

As we awkwardly shuffle in place, I speak up," hey, about last night. I'm sorry I came onto you like that, I put you in an uncomfortable position."

"No, no," he waves his hands," don't need to apologize, you couldn't help it. I know that wasn't really you and I won't hold that against you."

"yea," I fiddle with my hands," we can just pretend it didn't happen, and go on like before." he nods, looking to the floor in thought. With the situation settled I'm left a bit lost for what to do.

"yea," he still nods," I don't think I can do that." I startle at his words, a cold feeling sinking into my gut.

"W-what," I stutter. He looks up from the floor, seeming rather serious.

"I want to pretend that what happened didn't happen, more for my sake than yours. I'd like to be able to look at you and not see your face twisted up in pleasure as you cum on my tongue. It would be easier if I didn't, but at the same time…I really want to see that face again, " he takes a step forward," Terri, I liked what happened yesterday. I liked doing that thing with our mouths, I liked touching you and holding you. I hated how it came to be and I hated how you didn't have a choice, but I loved doing those things to you. I would give anything to do it all again, with actual consent and want from you instead of that drugged up lust. I want you, Terri, I really want you."

His confession feels like being punched in the gut. It's not what I could ever expect from him. We've worked together for nearly a year now and not once did he hint at wanting to be more than friends. We have a good relationship working together and I'd dare say I enjoyed his company. Now…now everything is different. I can't look at him as a coworker or even a friend. Even now all I can see when I look at him is his face buried between my legs, eyes closed and humming in bliss.

"I don't know," he takes a step back," a lot happened yesterday and you may honestly want to pretend it didn't happen. I can respect that and go on if it bothers you. I didn't want to agree if there was a chance to…never mind, I'm sorry." I watch him turn around to retreat, fidgeting and scolding himself. The sight plucks at my heart.

Taking a few rushes stepped forward I grab him and tug him around. I cup his cold cheek and drag him into a sweeter kiss than our first. He's still untrained and uncertain but he gives it his all as he wraps his arms around me. His attempt is cute, pulling a smile up to my cheeks till I have to part.

I pet at his cheek," it's called a kiss and I would love to do more of those with you."

His sharp teeth peak through his lips," a kiss. I'm a fan."

He tugs my against him again, twisting us and lifting me onto the table. I'm didn't expect to consummate our choice now but I'm not going to argue. He smirks up at me, fitting himself between my legs. Before he can go in for another kiss he glances off to his left. I follow his gaze to the flower.

"Nope," he picks me up off the table, taking me to another end of the lab," I'm not doing that again." I bark out a laugh, teasing the edges of his spikes as he sets me down on another table. He quickly pulls me back into another kiss.

Our rush is exciting, though less frantic than yesterday. He discards my shirt, not paying any mind to my breast as he pets down my stomach and licks at my shoulder. His fingers pluck at my pants buttons, tearing them down to my ankles as I frustratedly tug at his shirt.

With him distracted with my cunt I finally get to grab at his crotch. He throbs in my hand, his cock mysteriously wiggling. Curious, I pull him out of his pants. I'm excited but confused with what I see.

His bright red cock is writhing in my palm, the tip twirling around my fingers. It looks like it came from a slit, emerging from his body eagerly. I squeeze him, fascinated by the pre leaking out his pores. He shutters, slapping his hands on either side of me.

"Please," he whimpers," I couldn't relieve myself last night and I may go mad if you try to tease me now."

I snicker at him, tugging him gently forward and nudging him against me. Letting him go and wrapping my arms around his shoulders I leave him to lead. He takes a breath, reaching down and grabbing himself. We both watch as his tip pokes and prods till it finds my entrance. His cock makes me shiver as it begins to wiggle frantically inside me. He pushes on, seething as he bottoms out. He shutters, letting out a shaky breath as our hips touch.

"what blessed torture is this," he pants, almost wheezing. I bite back a snicker, petting at his head in support. He shutters again.

His hips begin to buck, moving in short little bursts before growing in length. The feel of his cock is blessed, something I've craved since yesterday. He begins to plow into me, a wet slap sounding from where we meet. My thighs feel sticky, the thought of it not being only my slick passes by. An odd little tingle starts deep inside me, growing the more he slams into me. I gasp, tugging him close as a sudden burst of pleasure shocks up my spine.

Aziraphale licks up my neck, rumbling with a growl as he clenches my hips. He ups his tempo, shocking my body to attention. I cry out into the lab, nearing my end with the sudden fire growing because of him. My stomach clenches, sitting at the blissful peak for almost too long. It almost hurts when I cum, clenching around his still pumping cock.

"Shit," he digs his nails into my hips. He bucks into my fluttering heat, milking me for all I'm worth till he barks out a cry. His face buries against my neck as he cums, fluids puddling on the table. He pumps a few times before stilling inside me, his cock pulsing with his release. I pet at his back and kissing him on the cheek. He shutters more, taking a bite of my neck. His hips buck some more, surprising me with his movement. He continues to pulse, more fluids showering my insides.

"Are you still cumming," I ask in awe. He doesn't answer. His teeth dig into my skin along with his nails.

I sit back and let him take his fill, a little glad when he finishes. He releases my neck, giving it a lick before leaning back. Our eyes meet and I can see the content in his smile. He looks happy, sated, and cute. I pet at his cheek.

"You didn't warn me about the mess," I joke. He scoffs, pulling out and watching his cum leak out of me.

"It didn't occur to me," he answers. Reaching forward he thumbs at our mixed fluids, grabbing a bit and bringing it to his mouth. Licking the drop off he hums. "delicious," he smirks. I push at his shoulder, chuckling as I hop off the counter. He helps, keeping me steady.

I look back at the counter, wincing at the cum dripping off the edge. "Little glad it's just the two of us here," I half-joke.

"I might be glad too," he wraps his arms around my waist," could work with fewer clothes now."

I shake my head, amused with his suggestion. There's no way I'll be doing that but it's a little flattering that he would want to see me naked again. I grab his spikes and tug him down for a kiss. He growls, tugging me closer, and palming my rear. His tongue laps at my lips, delving into my mouth with the smallest bit of acceptance.

"You wanna go again," he mumbles against my lips. I hum, petting up his chest.

"I think we should move the flower before we try anything else," I answer. He pouts, looking behind himself to glare at the cursed plant.

"Yea, probably have to deal with that," he grumbles.

"yea, I'm not allowed near it," I shrug. He twists back around, grinning down at me.

"I prefer you not drugged, thank you very much," he kisses my forehead," this is way better than yesterday anyway."

I hum with a big goofy grin on my face.

Yea, I liked this way better.

#12 days of christmas #12 tropes for christmas #sixth day #Enigma-IM #exophilia #monster boyfriend #alien boyfriend #pollen

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years

Text

A Broken System

MASTERLIST

Summary: At her birthday celebration, Y/N is out on the town enjoying herself when she runs into a cute FBI agent who she’d love to take home and do terrible things to. Normally, someone meeting an FBI agent at a bar wouldn’t be that big of a deal. There’s just one, miniscule, microscopic, meager, problem... Y/N is only twenty.

tags: Large Age Difference, power imbalance, choking, Dom/sub, safe sex, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, cliffhanger.

A/N: this just made so much more sense in third person. i tried replacing it with second person, but trust me it did not work. hope you enjoy! gif by @toyboxboy

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5,930

Spencer Reid never really thought he was attractive.

Probably had something to do with his perpetually messy hair, gangly stature, and his tendency to ramble on and on and on and. . .

Yeah. Like that.

Another factor definitely was the fact that he was in his 30’s and had never really had a stable relationship. Sure, he’d had relationships with a few women. Well, two women. The first being a girl he’d met in college with whom he had a brief fling. Spencer didn’t really count it as a stable relationship due to the fact they barely even kissed. And the other woman, the only woman he’d ever really loved, died tragically several years ago.

Maeve.

Maeve was the real reason Spencer didn’t like going to bars with Morgan or being set up on dates by Penelope. She was the reason that Spencer wasn’t interested in anyone anymore. Who could possibly compare to Maeve?

Damn it. That was the other reason he wasn’t looking to date. He knew how the mind worked and there was no doubt that if any new person came into his life, she’d be unconsciously compared to Maeve. He couldn’t put anyone through that.

So, Spencer Reid stayed single. Which, for him, was relatively easy. Whenever someone started to get a little too close with him, he’d blabber and spout facts until they ran off. Morgan would ask what happened and Reid would just put on a slight frown, mumbling how she had to go.

The charade got more effortless the more they went out. Morgan, almost always going home on the arm of some woman and Spencer content to get a cab back to his own place, have a quick efficient orgasm, and fall asleep.

He had a system. And no one was going to break it.

Y/N hated the summertime.

Well, she didn’t usually. Anywhere else on the planet it would be mildly enjoyable. The beach, ice cream, staying up all night. All that fun crap. In Washington D.C, however, summer was hell.

But! When one was accepted into Georgetown and their parents offered to pay FULL tuition plus housing, how can one say no?

Seriously, she wanted to know.

After two whole years in this armpit of a town, Y/N had finally gotten used to the sweltering heat that plagued the city during the summer. Whatever. She just stayed in the comfortable A.C. all day anyway.

But, the summer before her third year was almost over, and the only thing she could think about now was graduating with a major in Journalism. She didn’t really like most of the courses, but it’s what she needed to do to become a full-time editor.

Living in a rent-free apartment was heaven. No roommates meant no worrying about, well, anything. The only problem was, her parents could hold it over her head every time they called. Which is why she never answered their calls.

Today, however, answering was unavoidable.

Because not only was it the day before her first class, today was her twentieth birthday.

Y/N was in the middle of getting dressed to go out with her friends when her phone vibrated from the kitchen table.

“Hello?”

She tried so hard to suppress the cringe at her mom’s voice.

“Sweetie! How are you? Are you eating?”

“Yes, mom.”

Oh boy. Strong start, mom.

“You look skinny in the pictures on Facebook!”

Yeah, she was definitely going to be late.

Surprisingly, it only took five minutes to push her mom off the phone, insisting that her friends were on their way and she had to keep getting ready.

A sharp rap on the door saved her.

“Come on!! It’s almost ten!” Y/N’s friend, Mina, said, annoyed. “All the old people leave the bars at ten and if we don’t get there soon, the bouncers won’t let us in!”

Y/N didn’t really understand the logic there. Hot girls always got into bars. Especially late at night. How were there not more crimes committed in clubs? Maybe she’d find out in her first class tomorrow.

“Hey!” Mina snapped her out of it, “Come on! Let’s go.”

They arrived outside a dinky little club a few minutes later. It had taken Y/N a while to get accustomed to how close everything was together in this town. Before college, she had been a small-town girl. Promise ring and everything. That, uh. That didn’t last long.

Before they got in line, Mina took a long satin sash out of her purse and secured it across Y/N’s torso.

“What the hell’s this?”

The sash was white with large pink flowy letters that poignantly spelled out: Birthday Bitch.

“It’s a sash.”

Three of Mina’s friends strode up, quickly exchanging hugs and wishing Y/N a happy birthday.

“I see that it’s a sash, but why am I wearing it?”

Mina confidently strode up to the bouncer, Y/N at her side, fake ID at the ready. Technically, it was the right birthdate, the year was just a little off.

“Go through. Happy Birthday,” the guy said, barely sparing the ID a glance, more focused on the huge sash. It made sense. She didn’t look her age. No one would think she was only in college by taking a glance at her.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Look,” Mina pulled her aside just before they entered, “this makes every single guy in there want to buy you a drink. So, go enjoy a free Shirley Temple, on me.”

Y/N scoffed and entered the club, immediately overwhelmed by the booming of the music.

Jesus Christ. How did people not die from this? It felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

Sure, she’d been in a bar before. But not a real, proper club. She was pretty sure she saw some people wearing neon. Oh my god, there was a DJ.

Suppressing a laugh, she headed to the bar. At least there was a bar. There were so many people gathered around though that she couldn’t get much access to the one bartender on staff.

Luckily, he spotted her sash that seemed to shine under the blacklights.

“Hey, make some room for the birthday girl!”

And the crowd parted like the red sea, every man’s head turned towards her, and she cautiously approached the bartender who gave her a quick wink.

“Scotch. Neat.”

A dark man with a silver nose ring slid onto the stool next to her.

“It’s on me,” he addressed the bartender, staring at her the whole time. “So. Birthday girl. How old are you turning?”

She smiled softly. The sash was working great, but now she had to come up with a way to answer his question without explicitly lying.

“Who wants to know?”

Maybe flirting would be distracting enough.

He smiled, glancing down for a moment, then holding out his hand. Ha. Men.

“I’m Jon.”

Ugh. She hated handshakes. But for this man, she might be able to make an exception.

“Y/N.”

Five minutes later, she wished with all her heart she could take the handshake back. Y/N should have known better than to talk to a guy at a club. They were all sleazebags. But! She did manage to get a couple of drinks out of it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said after his fifth time mentioning Outback Steakhouse.

But before she could leave the bar discreetly, a hand wrapped around her arm, yanking her back.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I thought we were talking?”

Y/N may have been a small-town girl, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing his shoulders and driving her knee up into his crotch, stomping off toward the exit.

Only when she got outside did she realize how fast her heart was beating. She leaned over, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

A soft hand on her shoulder made her snap around, grab the hand and twist it around the stranger’s back, shoving him up against the alley wall.

“I’m sorry!” the man squawked shrilly. “I’m sorry!” It wasn’t Jon.

“What were you doing?” she demanded, not releasing him yet.

“I saw you lean over. I just wanted to see if you were ok!”

She finally drank in the man’s appearance. He was wearing a soft purple sweater vest over a grey button-down, slacks, and worn black converse on his feet.

Confident that he wasn’t a threat, she released him and took a step back.

The man rubbed his elbow softly, glancing at her chest. Before she could tell him off for staring at her rack, he pointed to the sash.

“Is it your birthday?”

She looked down. Oh, he’d been looking at the sash of course. Then why did she feel … disappointed?

“Oh, yeah. Some guy bought me a drink and got a little, er, touchy.”

Suddenly, the man’s face went dark.

“Who is he? Where is he?”

He started to walk back into the club but she stopped him, reaching out and gently grabbing his arm.

“Hey! It’s fine. I kicked him in the crotch.”

The man’s eyes switched from anger to surprise in a flash. He flustered for a moment, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back into the alley.

Y/N now took a closer look at his face. He had deep, wise brown eyes, a small five-o-clock shadow gracing his jaw, and very full lips, the latter of which he was biting profusely. Aw. He was nervous. But why?

Maybe because he was in an alley with a random girl who had just been groped at a club and he didn’t know what to do.

She chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“Um. I didn’t get your name?”

He smiled brightly, thankful for the change in topic.

“Oh! Of course, sorry. I’m Spencer!”

And Y/N braced herself for the telltale outstretching of the hand.

But none came. He simply stood there, one hand in his pocket and the other waving at her, a dopey smile on his face.

Her face lit up.

“You didn’t try to shake my hand,” she muttered, awed.

The man, Spencer, got an embarrassed look on his face, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I, uh. I’m a bit of a germaphobe. But, really, everyone should be! The amount of germs passed in a handshake is staggering. They really should be abolished altogether.”

“Right! People should just bow their heads or, or, wave!” she said excitedly, gesturing to his hand. “I mean a handshake is like a hug with a part of you that comes in contact with everything! Might as well go up to someone and start making out with them.”

As she spoke, his face lit up in wonder.

“Right? It’s crazy! But the thing is, some people actually do that! I was in that club for fifteen minutes and I swear I saw three couples leave together that definitely didn’t go in together.”

“I know!” she said, starting to pace in the cramped alley. “I mean, who goes home with someone that you just met! They could be a serial killer for all you know!”

She looked at Spencer and was delighted to see a joyful expression on his face. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry for blabbering,” she waved, chuckling slightly.

Spencer smiled even wider.

“Don’t be sorry! Usually, I’m the one who has to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“Blabbering,” he said sheepishly, hands back in his pockets. When he was talking, they had been moving about wildly. It was kind of endearing.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, considering. “Blabbering is underrated. One could argue it’s the best way to learn useless information.”

“Well, I’d agree but no information is really useless.”

Y/N held up a finger.

“‘Information is useless if it is not applied to something important or if you will forget it before you have a chance to apply it.’”

Spencer’s mouth fell open.

“Timothy Harris?”

She nodded. “The 4-Hour Workweek. Outdated, but still applies.”

When she noticed his expression, it nearly knocked her breath away. He was looking at her like no one ever had before. Like he’d just realized the most important thing in the universe.

Before her cowardice could catch up, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. His face went blank, shocked by the sudden approach. He nearly gasped when she spoke.

“It’s totally ridiculous to go home with someone you just met, right?”

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Totally.”

“Why were you out tonight in the first place? You don’t exactly seem like the club-going type.”

He smiled softly.

“I, uh, just got a promotion last week. My friend Morgan wanted to take me out to celebrate. It was either this or karaoke.”

She chuckled softly, their faces so close he must have felt her breath.

“I don’t know, I’d have liked to see your rendition of Bad Romance. Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a whole Lady Gaga vibe?”

“You should see my Beyonce.” And he did a little mime of the Single Ladies dance, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles. Without thinking — probably due to the trace amounts of alcohol in her system, not enough to be drunk, but enough to be tipsy — she reached up her arms around his shoulders, clasping them together behind his neck like a teen slow-dancing at prom.

Spencer seemed startled by the sudden physical contact. He froze, hands unmoving at his sides.

Y/N pulled her arms back, stepping away from him, discouraged and embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she said, collecting herself and walking back towards the club door. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait!” he called before she could reenter the club. A tiny part of her let out a breath in relief. She turned around to see him with a hand outstretched toward her, frozen with the uncertainty of what to do next.

He recovered quickly, a blush visible on his cheeks in the lamplight of the alley.

“If you’re leaving, would you, um. Could I walk you home?”

She had no idea what possessed her in that moment but just as he spoke, she walked up to Spencer, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pulled him down into a passionate kiss.

To her surprise, he responded immediately, running his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him, eagerly returning the kiss.

His lips were so warm. He tasted very faintly of alcohol and maybe a breath mint? Y/N let herself fall into the sensation.

Suddenly, her back was pressed up against the wall of the alley, Spencer’s hands lighting a trail of fire down her body. He hesitated, pulling back briefly to make sure she was ok.

A glint in her eye, she yanked him back down, tongues clashing together in a blaze of glory. He hiked her leg up around his hips, pressing them closer together. Y/N could feel the hardness in his pants pressing into her stomach, sending a wave of heat down to her core.

She pulled back. If they went any further, she didn’t know if she’d be able to leave the alley.

Y/N tried to hide the smile on her face but it was no use. She beamed at Spencer, linking her arm through his elbow.

“Lead the way. Wait, that doesn’t make sense, you’re taking me home. I’ll lead the way!”

And so they walked, arm in arm down the busy D.C. streets, silently enjoying each other’s company.

They arrived outside her apartment fifteen minutes later, Y/N clumsily unlocking the door, nervous from the thought of what was about to happen. They hadn’t explicitly said anything in particular. Was he going to come in? Would she invite him?

Spencer, it seemed, was also daunted, standing awkwardly on the threshold of her place, hands buried in his pockets.

An idea sprung into Y/N’s brain.

She approached him, wrapping her hands around his neck again only this time, his hands rested lightly on her waist.

“Still think going home with a stranger is a bad idea?”

Spencer chuckled softly, stroking the exposed skin of her waist from where her top had ridden up.

“I’m still debating it.”

“Oh?”

He slid his hand around the sash, fingers hovering above her chest.

“I never asked, how old did you turn?”

She smiled. For some reason, she felt she could trust this man. The worst that could happen was he calls the cops on her for having a fake ID. She could deal with that. Destroy the evidence, bat her eyes. Easy. Besides, he looked barely of age himself. She quickly wondered what he did for a living? He did say he got a promotion.

It would be easiest to just tell him the truth.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this…”

He chuckled lowly in her ear, moving his lips gently across her neck.

“I can handle it.”

She gasped at the sensation, legs clamping together.

“Officially, it’s my twenty-third. At least, that’s what it says on my ID. One of them.”

Spencer froze, waiting for her to go on.

Y/N quickly backtracked.

“It’s okay! I’m twenty! Not a minor, no worries.”

But Spencer pulled away, an extremely worried look on his face despite her assurance.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re underage.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah? Come on, by one year. What, you never had a fake ID?”

“No!” he said shrilly, running a hand through his hair.

“Spencer, it’s ok! It’s not like I’m gonna get caught. I look much older and when are there cops at a place like that?”

He reached into his pocket and fished out a folded wallet. Snapping it open, Y/N’s jaw dropped at the FBI badge with his picture in the corner.

She floundered for a moment, unable to truly comprehend what was happening.

“You’re . . .”

“Yep,” he said shortly, pocketing the badge.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much my reaction too,” he said, sighing. “I should arrest you.”

Y/N took a step back, incredulous.

“Arrest me?”

“You have a fake ID. You’re clearly drunk.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Great idea, Spencer. Book me. Take me down to the FBI and tell them exactly what happened to lead to you finding out I’m only twenty. I’m sure they’ll need very specific details.”

A look of realization flitted across Spencer’s face and he buried his head in his hands, groaning.

“How old are you anyway?!” she demanded, upset at him for being upset.

“Thirty-four!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air.

Oh shit.

This was bad.

He was fourteen years older than her, in the FBI, and probably was seconds away from arresting her.

“There’s no way you’re thirty-four. I mean, look at you!”

He rolled his eyes, snorting, and beginning to pace the small hallway.

“This is exactly what I get. I meet a girl I really like for the first time in years and she’s decades younger than me. And a criminal!”

“Hey!” she said, shoving his shoulder. “Not decades. I’m not a criminal. And how the hell do you think I feel? I’m out trying to have fun on my birthday, some guy gropes me leading me to run into the perfect man, take him back to my apartment thinking I’m gonna get lucky only to find out he’s a cop who’s gonna arrest me. Best birthday ever.”

Spencer eyed her carefully.

“Get lucky?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. Shit. She hadn’t meant to reveal that part. Even though it was pretty obvious, something about it not being said added to the excitement.

“Did you really . . . I mean were you…. Um.” Spencer seemed to lose all authoritative tone suddenly, stammering nervously. It was such a 180, it shocked Y/N.

“Was I going to let you fuck me?”

He cringed at the bluntness but nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah, Spencer. I was.” She scoffed. “Honestly, I still would. But I understand if I’m more than you can handle,” she said coyly, trying to keep a straight face. “Just please don’t arrest me, Sir.”

His expression darkened at her words. Something deep and lustful behind it. Feeling bold, she went with it.

“Or is it Agent?” she cocked her head, holding a finger to her lips in thought. “How do I address you properly, sir?”

A small groan left Spencer’s mouth and he stepped forward, brushing a hand over her hair.

“We shouldn’t do this, Y/N…”

Slowly, she backed up into her apartment, pulling him with her.

“We shouldn’t.” She gently led him to her bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, him towering over her. “To be fair, you’re the one with handcuffs.”

He groaned again, wiping a hand down his face.

“This is a bad idea.”

But he crouched down in front of her, pressing his forehead to her exposed knee, breathing deeply.

“Spencer,” it was barely a whisper but he met her eyes instantly. She smiled gently, reaching out to him and coaxing him up from the floor so he was hovering above her, mouths inches apart. “Listen, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she assured him. “But I want this.”

She leaned back, pulling him with her so he was lying atop her, an obvious bulge pressing against her through their clothing.

“I want this, Spencer.”

Y/N hoped that he knew he could leave if he wanted. She didn’t want to pressure him into anything. Despite the age difference, she seemed to be the one more in control.

Spencer lowered his head, sighing.

“Fuck,” he moaned, lightly thrusting against her, a moan escaping her mouth at the contact.

That seemed to be the last straw.

He sat up, ripping his sweater vest off along with his button-down, quickly moving back over her, lips latching to her neck and chest.

Oh thank god. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to stand it if he’d left. But from the way he was touching her, hands moving up and down her sides, gently pulling her skirt down, looking up at her every now and then to make sure it was alright, he wasn’t going anywhere.

She just spurred him on, stripping off her top and bra, now only wearing her panties.

Spencer groaned at the sight, a hand reaching up, hovering over her breast. She arched her back up into his hand, letting out a gasp as he started to fondle her.

God, his hands were huge. And nimble. Oh, so nimble.

She reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tossing it across the room, pushing his pants down faster than possible.

He groaned again, a magical sound, reaching a hand down to stroke her through her panties, coaxing a gasp from her beautiful lips.

In a flash, Spencer had pulled down her panties and buried his head between her legs.

Y/N gasped, hand flying to the back of his head, edging him on.

He slipped two fingers into her, his tongue flicking against her clit wildly, making her writhe and moan on the bed, gasping his name.

“Spencer, Spencer.” It took all the resolve she had to pull his head away from her. “I need you to fuck me.”

Spencer looked at her, trying to read her expression.

“Y/N . . . are you sure?”

Rather than answer, she yanked him up, crashing their mouths together, one hand quickly pushing down his boxers, his erection springing free.

Good god.

Wow.

How the hell was she supposed to fit that inside her?

She looked up at him, impressed, only to see a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Well,” she said, kicking off the panties pooled around her ankles, laid bare underneath the stranger on top of her. “This night gets better by the second.”

His size was a little daunting, but the thought of him slowly filling her up, probably not being able to fit all the way in, only added to her desire.

He dipped his head down, stealing a quick yet passionate kiss.

“Do you have . . ?”

“Yeah, in the drawer.”

He reached over, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. It looked extremely tight on him. Y/N unconsciously licked her lips. Spencer chuckled.

“Maybe next time. I need to be inside you.”

And with that, he flung her legs around his hips, positioning his cock at her entrance, slowly running it up and down, moistening the condom with her juices.

God. The feeling of him being so close and yet so far was almost enough to push her over the edge right there. He had been a god with his tongue and she was desperate for more friction.

Reaching down, she lightly circled her clit, moaning at the instant pleasure.

Before she could enjoy it much, hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her on the bed, Spencer staring at her with a dark look.

“If you wanna touch yourself, you have to ask permission. Understood?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Words escaped her so she settled for a small nod.

“Use your words.”

His tone was so commanding the word left her mouth the moment he finished speaking.

“Yes.”

He lightly placed his hand around her neck, not applying any pressure, just hovering.

“Yes, what?”

Fuck. She wondered if it was possible to come just from being talked to.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, he slid inside her, slowly filling her up with his length, moaning roughly at the sensation.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, watching as Spencer’s face tightened, jawline even sharper, and a dark look in his eye. He carefully applied a bit more pressure to her throat, quickly releasing his hand afterward.

They were both still as she adjusted to the size of him inside her.

“Is this ok?” his voice sounded so different than it had a moment ago. He had shifted back to the geeky guy she’d met in the alley.

She nodded gently at him, running a hand over his cheek in a way that was surely far too personal for a one night stand.

“My safeword is apple.”

He froze for a moment, shocked. Apparently she was kinkier than he’d expected.

Tired of not being fucked by this man, she dug her heels into his back, directing him to move.

He did without hesitation, groaning at the sensation of slowly pulling out and thrusting back in.

The feeling overwhelmed both of them, a litany of curses and moans falling from their mouths. Spencer’s hand moved back to her throat, squeezing much harder now that he knew what to listen for if she wanted to stop.

The sound of her moaning was enough to make him come right there and then. That, with the feeling of her around him and the fact that his hand was around her throat, totally in control.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

Oh my god, where was this coming from? Her nails scraped down his back, leaving a trail of marks.

“You like feeling me fuck you?” he wrapped a hand around her leg, pulling it higher to try to hit the magical spot inside of her. “You like when I wrap my hand around your pretty little neck? Showing you how in control I am of you.”

She nodded ecstatically, legs tightening around him. She was definitely close to coming.

“What were you thinking? Going to a bar when you’re underage. Then leading a stranger to your home, intending to let him fuck you silly. Finding out I’m ages older than you and still practically begging me to bend you over and pound you till you can’t see straight. Is the age difference what gets you off, Y/N?”

At the sound of her name, she let out a raucous moan, no doubt waking up the other tenants of the building.

Spencer smiled, drilling harder and tightening his grip on her throat.

“Oh, you like it when I say your name? You like when I shove my big cock in you and moan your name in your ear?”

She practically screamed as his hand started to circle her clit, the stimulation practically knocking the air out of her.

He was hitting her g-spot with every thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close. She just needed….

“You gonna come for me, Y/N?” he punctuated it with a particularly hard thrust, feeling her begin to clench around him, orgasm washing over her.

Her walls tightening around his cock was enough to send him barreling over the edge, grunting as he thrust in her four more times before feeling his balls tighten up and spill his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he grunted, using his forearms to stay above her, both of them completely out of breath.

Slowly, he pulled out with a sigh, discarding the condom in the trash by her bed.

Y/N was seeing stars. This man had just given her her first penetrative orgasm. And, possibly the best sex she’d ever had.

‘Fuck’, was right.

Spencer flopped down next to her, still naked, trying to catch his breath.

Y/N turned to him, placing a hand on his chest.

It was strange. Even though they’d just had some of the best sex Y/N had ever had, she didn’t even know this man. And yet, somehow, she felt like she did. Did that happen a lot once you had sex with someone?

Her eyes refocused from where they’d been staring off into space to see a concerned Spencer looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

He studied her for another moment before speaking.

“You were biting your lip.”

A blush crept up her cheek.

“Yeah sorry. Helps me think.”

He let out a sharp breath, a sort of soft laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said as he retrieved his underwear, slipping them back on and starting to button up his shirt.

Oh. Was he going to leave? Of course he was! That’s all this was, anyway. A one night stand. You had sex. That was the point.

Then why did it feel like hell?

“You okay?”

Her thoughts had drifted into space again. Spencer had laid back down, now on his side facing her, holding her hand, looking at her intensely. His gaze was practically burning.

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, I don’t normally do . . . that.”

She chuckled. It was rather obvious he wasn’t the hookup type. Despite the dirty things that had come from his mouth.

“Me either.”

He softly stroked her cheek.

“Are you going to stay?” she blurted.

His face fell.

“Oh, no I wasn’t going to impose if you-”

“NO! I mean,” she took a breath. “I want you to . . . I mean, if you want . . . I'd . . . I’d like you to stay. If you want?”

God. She sounded like a teenager asking their crush to prom. This was no stuttering sophomore she could kick in the crotch if he said no. He was a man. Although, he did tend to stutter. Maybe it wasn’t all that different.

He lit up, a wide smile brightening his features and he began to stroke her hand.

“I’d like that too.”

Wondering if it was possible for cheeks to sprain from smiling, she pulled up the covers, cuddling up against him, falling asleep almost immediately.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Ugh. The stupid alarm. She had been right in the middle of a wonderful dream involving Spencer’s hands and her bruised throat.

What time was it anyway?

The red clock radio proudly displayed: 7:00.

Right, it was the first day of classes. Maybe she’d just ditch and stay in with Spencer. He had been so warm she was sure he had a sun where a heart should be. College didn’t matter anyway, right? Ugh.

A shiver ran through her. She reached out for Spencer, only to find the cold other half of the bed.

Sitting up in bed, she stared at the empty spot.

Had he really walked out on her in the middle of the night? No…. No? Fuck. How could she be so stupid. Of course he didn’t want to-

Oh, he’d left a note.

In a fast yet tidy scrawl, Spencer had left the following message on a little notecard.

Good morning! I am truly sorry to walk out like this, but I have a class at 7:30 and I have to stop by my place and get ready. I’ll be back at the bar tonight, 10:30. I’d love to see you there.

-Spencer. X

Her heart melted into an ocean at the sentiment behind each individual letter. The man she’d just had a dirty one night stand with wanted to see her again.

Wait, he’d said a class? He hadn’t told her he was a student! To be fair, neither had she. That’s another thing they had in common apparently. It made sense why he didn’t tell her. A lot of people were ashamed of going back to college later in life. She thought that was ridiculous. Good for him.

Maybe she could look him up in the student registry. Actually, he may not even go to Georgetown. There were plenty of colleges nearby. She couldn’t have looked him up anyway. She didn’t even know his last name.

It was probably a good thing he left, because she, too, had a class at 7:30.

It only took her twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and walk the very short distance to campus.

She arrived in the lecture hall with exactly one minute to spare, finding a seat next to a brightly dressed redhead holding a fuzzy pen.

“Hi! I’m Allie.”

“Y/N,” she said, suppressing the cringe as Allie reached out to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you! What’s your major?”

Oh god. The inevitable college question.

“Journalism. You?”

“English,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Super boring I know, but it lets me take fun classes like this one. Why are you taking this class?”

“Oh, um. It looked fun, I guess. My dad was a lawyer and he kind of piqued my interest in the criminal justice system.”

Allie sighed.

“Thank god. You know half the girls are here just because the Professor is a hottie,” she said with air quotes, rolling her eyes again.

“Really?” Y/N asked, glancing around at the seats noticing the vast majority of the population were women. “Wait, I thought Ms. Merklins was the teacher? Did something change?”

“You didn’t get the email? It just went out the other day, Ms. Merklins had to retire. Something about a club foot. Anyway, the new teacher is supposedly super overqualified. Plus, he’s cute.”

“Huh.”

“Yep. I talked to this one girl in the hall, she actually said she’d sleep with him! Can you imagine?”

Y/N laughed.

“Nooooo. I cannot and I don’t want to. I’m just here to learn, I promise.”

“Same here. Although, if I start getting C’s, all bets are off.”

Y/N laughed and politely chatted with Allie while they waited.

The Professor’s office door swung open and Y/N reached into her bag to get her laptop.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello,” the class echoed.

“Welcome to Criminology. I am Professor Reid and I-.”

Y/N looked up over her screen as he stopped talking, making sudden eye-contact with the Professor.

She froze in her seat, blood running cold.

No way. No fucking way.

Spencer?

TAGLIST

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss @happyiidiot @cielo1984 @thupidalethea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid @aloha-ashley-taylor @justchiara-02 @spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin @matthewreid

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #smut

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Title: Extraordinary

Pairings: HotchReid (more to come)

Summary: League of Extraordinary Gentleman/Vampire AU;

Within the FBI there is a specialized team full of an elite selection of people. Unique individuals with very particular skill sets. And their job is to take the unusual cases: the ones that need to not only be solved, but are undetermined if the unsub is human, or something else entirely.

In a world filled with Vampires, non-human creatures, and subspecies unknown, there is only enough information to have them vaguely regulated. Rules that are so easily, and violently broken, all while hidden in plain sight among the unsuspecting public. Unrivaled for eons.

That’s where the BAU comes in.

Official Posting Date: October 2021

Links: (Masterpost) (Snippet 01) (Snippet 02) (Snippet 03) (Snippet 04)

(TW/CW: dead body/crime scene, blood and bite wounds talked about in detail, hypnosis/compelling someone to do something against their will, overall discussion of murder (basically what we see in every episode of the show))

(the story so far/what you need to know for this clip at least: Absolutely nothing you don’t already know, this is legit from the first chapter. Hotch is a Vampire (although the LEOs don’t really know that), Rossi is a priest, Morgan is so empathetically telepathic he can touch the auras in the air, and Reid is Reid. I know I’ve been giving you the juicy HotchReid stuff but here have some case stuff too, to see what you’re in for with the plot and everything. This is FIRST DRAFT so it’s terribly unpolished, first part is generalized POV (hence the more professional titles) and the second is within the team dynamics so they get more familiar. idk my first drafts are messy and indecisive, enjoy anyway. 💕)

–

They approach the body and Rainer shoos away his pestering, hovering officers and --- winces once again at the sight of the bloodied woman. “This is the third body in two days; a jogger found her about 6 am. Coroner says she thinks she’s been dead for about 6 hours; killed in the middle of the night, just like the others.”

“Closer to five hours, I think,” Dr. Reid says, crouching down to look closer. All long legs and his gun looking too big on his belt next to his FBI badge. “Could still be within the Witching Hour, though.”

“Do you have accurate time of death estimates for the other two bodies?” Agent Morgan adds on, already picking up the train of thought Dr. Reid has started on. The detective pulls out an old-school flip notebook book and looks through it before answering.

“3:15am the first night, 9:30pm last night and now this.”

“Well that rules out hex, sacrifice, and spell gone wrong,” he concludes, as the other agents surround the body to inspect it from all angles. “So what are we thinking?”

“It’s a frenzied bite,” Agent Hotchner points out, looking from where he stands and not having to get as close as Dr. Reid to inspect it accurately. His eyesight is better than any microscope. “Shows multiple entries, it couldn’t get a good enough hold to rip her throat. Or she struggled, so it wasn’t strong enough to keep her pinned down.”

“The boys think it’s a Vamp,” Detective Rainer points out. “Maybe a baby one, still learning the ropes?”

“Vampire changes are regulated and no sire would allow whoever they turned to do this,” Agent Hotchner says, a colder flint to his voice that matches the way his dark stare cuts up to the detective. “No one has been turned in the United States in the past twelve years.”

“It’s not a Vampire bite,” Dr. Reid agrees, putting on latex gloves to further inspect the body and test the bite radius. “And it’s not a werewolf bite, either.”

“...Werewolf?” the detective says with a winded sound, eyes wide and looking to the three agents who didn’t even blink at the word. “There’s -- there’s such thing as werewolves?”

“Detective, I think you should let my team and I work, we will come to you with our findings and then help you track down your killer.” Agent Hotchner doesn’t leave room for argument, his dark brown eyes looking pitch black in the early morning light, and Detective Rainer… suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to walk away. Like he can’t breathe if he doesn’t comply; he fights it, tries to fight it, and feels his will crumble beneath him like a sand bank giving way under his feet. He turns, even that small gesture lessening the pressure crushing his chest, and takes a step away from the group, air swept into his lungs like a riptide. He makes a hasty retreat after that, winded as if he just ran up a flight of stairs and the sweet taste of oxygen being his only reprieve. He doesn’t know what happened, and wouldn’t upon further inspection until much, much later.

“That wasn’t very nice, Hotch,” Rossi points out with a look of glib reprimand towards their team leader. “I thought compelling feeble minded beat cops was for those who have no skills to avoid it.”

“My patience was running thin, and we need to move faster on this case before our unsub kills again. He’s escalating.” That much is obvious, by the timeline alone, but Father Rossi still gives him a side-ways glance that says he finds far too much amusement in the undead’s antics. “Reid, are you sure it’s not a werewolf bite? It would explain the lack of control and precision.”

“I’m sure,” Reid says with finality, and no one makes a mention on why. He had done more research than any human possibly could in the past few months on werewolf transformation and the after effects of attacks. With what happened to one of their former agents mere months ago, no one doubted his newly learned expertise. “It’s also not a shifter, or a ghoul. We can rule out ghost and poltergeist as well, no residue or temperature shifts.”

“Demon possession?” Morgan asks, looking to Rossi just as he does his customary Sign of the Cross at the mere mention. Can’t help the gesture, after his own past experiences. Giving anything the power of a name, even arbitrary, can be a dangerous thing.

“We can’t rule it out,” he admits. “The teeth marks are human, someone possessed would still have a hard time biting that deep and doing that much damage. Cannibalism is only reserved for the amusements of level three demons, however they aren’t usually powerful enough to reach the mortal plane or take possession of someone’s body. They would need help.”

“You really think someone would weaponize a demon like that?”

“We’ve seen people do worse things, as has history, but I’d like to hope it wouldn’t happen in my lifetime.”

“We need more information,” Hotch concludes, arms crossed and watching as Reid stands up and removes the blood stained gloves. “Morgan,” his gaze cuts to the tall man in his deep blue suit. “Can you walk the scene, tell us what you see?”

“Not with this many people around,” Morgan shakes his head, eyes glancing to every person within a twenty foot radius. “Too many readings, the aura field here looks like an oil spill. The only thing I can latch onto is…” his gaze is back on the ground, hovering over the dead woman, who would have no aura to speak of at all and therefore a blank canvas. He replaces Reid’s space, crouching down to touch the air over the bite wound. Fingers spread wide, less than a foot from her but not touching, palm suddenly curving as if over an invisible shoulder, the place where someone had once been not so long ago. It could have been the coroner, or the crime scene photographer, but with it being so close to the body -- chances were it was the unsub.

“They were crouched down, half on the ground, no… human thoughts that I can hear,” he says, closing his eyes and letting his hand glide through the air a little more, following the curve of someone’s spine and up their neck, resting where the head would be. “They have a fever burning them up, hot as a furnace--” he keeps his hand there too long, suddenly jerks it back as if it had physically burned him, then stands up again. Shaking off the aura reading still sticking to his fingers and the forefront of his mind. “Sound like anything you’ve heard of, pretty boy?”

Reid shakes his head, sharing a glance with Father Rossi. “We might have to go through some of your demonology books.” The older man grins wide.

“You just want to get your hands on them, at this rate you’ll have them memorized by next week.”

“Dave --” Hotch says slow, a reprimand of his own.

“Fine, fine, I’ll have Garcia send us some scans. If the Vatican knew I was putting a book like that in his hands they’d strip me of all my titles.”

“Didn’t they already do that?” Morgan teases with a grin.

“Ex-communicated. I got to keep the dog collar, the honorifics, bless the holy water, you know -- the party tricks.”

–

((if you want to be apart of the taglist just hit me up via comment, reblog tag, DMs or asks 💕))

#THIS IS JUST A SNIPPET #a really fucking long snippet but who's counting #I've missed WIP wednesdays #spooky season is upon us so I'm channeling that #a glimpse at how they handle cases that obviously don't look human #cw blood #cw murder #cw biting #paranormal stuff #sorry it's kind of all over the place but I got to play with Morgan's abilities and that was fun for me #Extraordinary #katyswriting #katyswip #wip wednesday #ALSO I DECIDED ON A POSTING DATE hope that doesn't bite me in the ass later lol

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

Text

Lover, Lover, Set Me Free...

A/n: I hope you like this! It’s been a while since I’ve written something like this! (not fully edited only partially edited) also i totally did not pull an all nighter to finish this hahaha.......

Requested by: @hannie-squirrel00 (thank you for requesting lovely! Sry it took a while! I wanted to do it right! <3)

Warnings: cussing, slightly 18+ themes, POV switching

Word Count: 13k

Summary: Jisung is one of the biggest players on campus. When Hyunjin bets him that he can’t get into the coldest girl on campus’s pants, Y/n gets unknowingly thrown into the ordeal. While doing his best, Jisung unconsciously starts to fall for this girl who means more to him that he is willing to admit to anyone- even himself.

Genre: Romance, angst, fluff, college!au, fuckboy!jisung, badboy!jisung, non-idol au

❁

When did university become a popularity contest? Wasn’t the whole point to come and learn? Instead, I’m fighting tooth and nail to get a spot in the costuming program with bitches who don’t even know how to sew on a damn zipper. My hard work is being looked over while girls making googly eyes at my professor get top priority in class.

“Y/n, if you aren’t careful you’re gonna sew your finger to your garment again.” My best friend, Felix, said next to me. I shook myself out of my trance and sighed, turning off my sewing machine and running a hand through my hair.

“Sorry, my head is just somewhere else.”

Felix scoffed next to me as he focused on hemming a lavender-colored slip. “I’d be spacy too if I hadn’t gotten laid in a year.” He nudged my shoulder making me laugh.

“I’m sorry that I don’t need to have an active sex drive to get work done. Besides, guys are a waste of time.”

“I strongly disagree with that last statement.”

Felix smirked and pulled his garment off the machine. Despite many girls pining after him, it was quite obvious Felix was into guys. Well...obvious to everyone except the girls who kept buying him vodka martinis when we went out to drink.

“Seungmin and I were gonna go out for drinks. You wanna come?” My best friend said packing up his stuff. I looked back at the dress I was sewing, then Felix. He was pulling his best puppy dog eyes on me.

“I will go tonight if you help me put boning in two corsets tomorrow.”

Felix grimaced. But I knew he would rather have a drinking buddy than have Seungmin leave him at the bar shitfaced. “Fine. But the first drink is on you.” I smiled and packed up my stuff, taking the garment with me. I could work on it back in my dorm tomorrow.

Felix happily dragged me out of the theatre department building and to the most popular campus bar on a Friday night. Seungmin was already seated at the bar nursing a beer when we arrived. Several people greeted Felix as we pushed through the crowded pub. “If it isn’t the famous Arctic Bitch!” I scowled hearing the name. Apparently, I had given myself quite a reputation without even trying.

Seungmin didn’t mean any harm by saying it. He just liked to poke fun at me. I bought Felix his first drink and the three of us shouted at each other over the loud music and voices in the bar. “Why is it so crowded tonight?” I shouted, frowning as someone elbowed me.

“Apparently, 3RACHA decided to show up a couple hours ago.”

“WHAT? I call dibs on Changbin!” Felix shouted, his eyes going wide. I rolled my eyes and stole a sip from Seungmin’s beer. I could honestly care less about those three bullheaded bone-driven music majors. I didn’t really see the appeal. So, instead, I steered the conversation away so I could in fact enjoy my night.

❁

Third POV

Han Jisung smirked as he watched the girl whose name he honestly couldn’t remember walk away back to her friends. He looked down at the number she had written on his wrist. He was in the middle of deciding whether or not he actually wanted to call her when a voice called to him.

“Han stop flirting with random girls and come actually spend time with your friends!”

Chan motioned him over back to the booth that his three friends sat in. Hyunjin scoffed and took another drink from his gin and tonic.

“Do you really have to do that?” Changbin asked, downing the rest of his drink.

“What?”

“Bone everything that moves.”

“Please. Han is not as good as he thinks he is.” Hyunjin said, slapping Jisung on the shoulder. Jisung glared at his friend. He and Hyunjin bickered, but Hyunjin didn’t usually bring out the big punches like that.

“Oh yeah? I can get any girl in this bar to sleep with me.”

“You really wanna do this?”

“Yes. Give me your best shot.”

Chan sighed, his hands covering his face. “Guys, don’t do this. I like this bar. Don’t kill the bar. I wanna come back here.” Changbin chuckled, enjoying the situation as he nursed his second cocktail. Jisung watched with a smirk as Hyunjin looked over all the girls in the bar. His grin stayed strong when Hyunjin turned back to him with a smile.

“You, sir, are in luck. Guess who I spotted at the bar?” Hyunjin quipped.

“Your mom.” Han held his hand up to Changbin for a high five, and the boy reluctantly complied.

“I challenge you to get Seoul University’s Arctic Bitch to sleep with you,” Hyunjin said pointing to the bar. Jisung followed Hyunijn’s direction and looked across the bar. His eyes fell on a girl with h/c hair and a stern expression on her face as she stole a sip from her friend’s beer. She wasn’t the hottest girl he had ever seen, but her ass wasn’t half bad.

“Challenge accepted.” Han moved to get up from the booth, but Hyunjin stopped him once more.

“Hold up big boy. You’ve gotta give me proof too.”

“What kind of proof?”

“I don’t know. Picture, video, something like that. I’ve gotta know it’s her and not one of the random sluts you usually hook up with.”

Han thought about it for a minute. He glanced over at Chan who shook his head solemnly. Of course, Chan would be against this. “Fine. What do I get if I win?” Jisung stated, shaking Hyunjin’s hand. Hyunjin thought for a minute.

“If you get her to sleep with you AND get proof- I’ll give you $1500.”

The other boys’ eyes went wide. Fifteen hundred dollars? Han started daydreaming about the new monitors he could get for his computer and the new sound system for his home studio. Plus that could go to paying off some of his student debt because God knows his parents weren’t gonna pay for this expensive college. “Oh, you got a deal!” Jisung glanced back over at the girl by the bar. This would be a piece of cake.

“If you can’t get Y/n to sleep with you...you have to go to graduation dressed in full lingerie. And heels.”

Chan and Changbin laughed, calling attention over to the boys for a moment. He had already agreed so there was no way he could back out of this. “Deal. I can’t wait to get my 1.5k!” Jisung smirked and poured himself another shot of soju before downing it like it was water. With a salute to his friends, the brunette haired boy crossed the bar to complete his challenge.

No way he would need three months to complete this.

❁

Y/n’s POV

We had been at the bar for only an hour and a half and Felix had already had three drinks, one of which was paid for by a very pretty- but not so observant- girl. It was kind of funny to watch him tipsily argue with Seungmin over who was the better role in our university’s musical, Chicago: Roxie or Velma.

“Fuck you, Min! Velma is a boss ass bitch in thigh highs! Whatcha gonna do about it, BRO?”

“Lix, drink some water,” I said, pushing my water towards my best friend. He pulled the drunk move and took the tiniest sip before turning back to his word assault against our other friend. Seungmin was only slightly more sober, but still argued with passion for his girl Roxie. Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, you’re....Y/n, right? Lemme buy you a drink.”

My eyes raked over the boy in front of me. His brown hair brushed over the corner of his forehead and his eyes had a mischievous glint to them. A confident smirk played on his lips as his hand ghosted over my waist, before turning to the bar and back to me.

“What’s your poison? Cosmopolitan, right?”

“Actually, I’ll take a Godfather.”

I stifled a laugh at the near microscopic flash of surprise on his face. He quickly regained his cocky composure and looked me up and down. “Whiskey. A girl after my own heart.” While he turned to the bartender and ordered my drink I took the opportunity to turn back to my friends and roll my eyes. But, to my surprise, Felix was standing slack-jawed behind me staring at the guy attempting to flirt with me, his argument with Seungmin forgotten.

“Sorry, who are you and why should I care you like whiskey?”

The shock was evident on his face as he turned back to me. He blinked a few times before looking around the bar in confusion. “You don’t know who I am?” He scoffed when I shook my head. The bartender handed me my drink as well as a jack and coke for the boy next to me. “This might be harder than I thought,” he muttered under his breath before taking a large sip from his drink. I was driving so this would probably be my one and only drink for the night. “I’m Han Jisung. I’m one of the rappers in 3RACHA.”

“Ah....that explains the air of entitlement.”

He sighed and took another swig of his drink, leaning on the bar. I was starting to get frustrated; I came to have fun with my two friends, not get hit on by some cocky asshole. “Look Jinyoung-”

“Jisung.”

“Right. Whatever. I came to have fun with my friends. So, thanks for the drink. Why don’t you just call...Mina,” I said reading the name on his arm written in girly handwriting. “Cause she already seems interested in your deal. But, I’m not so.....bye!”

Without another word, I turned around and returned to my friends, who were speechless. I couldn’t help but watch their eyes track Jisung’s form all the way back to the booth with the rest of his friends who could be heard laughing- most likely at him- from all the way across the bar.

“You just shot down the second hottest guy on campus.”

“Second hottest?”

“Yeah, have you seen his friend Chan? Boy’s got abs like a washboard.”

I could practically see Felix’s mouth start to water. “Keep it in your pants, bud.” Seungmin laughed at my comment and threw an arm lazily around my shoulder. “Min, are you drunk already?” He just giggled and started poking my cheeks. I downed the rest of my drink and let Seungmin rest his head on my shoulder.

“Come on, dummies. Let’s go home.” Felix followed me out of the bar as I carried Seungmin to my car. I was pretty sure I heard cheers behind me as I opened the door, when I turned I saw Felix twirling his shirt over his head and dancing with some random guy near the exit.

“FELIX!”

He whined as I dragged him away from the guy he was dancing with. “Noooooooooooo! He was so sweet!” I laughed and strapped my best friend into the car safely. Tonight was certainly not what I had expected.

❁

A car horn blaring outside my window sent me shooting up in bed. My hair stuck up in ungodly directions. Yet another night of restless sleep.

I rubbed my eyes and checked the time. About nine in the morning. No matter how early I went to bed I never seemed to get a good night’s rest.

Lazily I rolled out of bed and slipped on some shorts. My tired body shuffled into the dorm living room. I laughed seeing Seungmin half falling off my couch, asleep; it wasn’t uncommon for him to crash at my dorm after having a few drinks. My roommate didn’t really mind seeing as she had quite the little crush on him.

Speaking of, the sound of her door opening caught my attention. “Morning Lia,” I whispered. She started to speak but covered her mouth when she saw Seungmin passed out on the couch. “You want some tea?” I asked, setting a kettle on one of the burners. She nodded, sitting down and crossing her long legs on one of the kitchen stools.

Lia was maybe a year older than me and also a theatre major with a focus in performance. She had landed the lead in many of our university productions including our current musical, Chicago.

“So, Seungmin was in quite the heated argument last night.” My dormmate’s eyes widened at the mention of the boy’s name. “He was quite adamant on making Lix understand that Roxie was the greatest lead in the show.” A dark tint rose to her cheeks as she glanced at the sleeping hungover boy on our couch. Lia was playing Roxie in our production this year.

“He probably just likes the character.”

I rose a brow and handed her a mug of tea, before sipping on my own. “Sure, he does. Because our techie Seungmin just adores the motivations of a starstruck murderess.” Somehow her cheeks grew even darker.

“I have to go work in the Shop today, could you watch him while I’m gone?” She nodded with a small smile. The Shop was what we called the costume and scene shop. Basically, the backstage tech work area was the Shop.

After finishing our tea, we parted ways and got ready for the day. I slipped on my favorite sweatpants and threw on a semi-clean crop top. Feeling a little chilly, I threw on the matching grey jacket hanging on my desk chair. After fighting with my hair for ten minutes I gave up and started packing my backpack with things I needed for the day.

I groaned looking over at the corner of my room; I’d forgotten to take four rolls of rather expensive and custom fabric to the workroom yesterday, so I had to do it today. Gathering the fabric up in my arms, I headed out.

The sidewalks were practically empty as I crossed campus on my way to the Arts part of the university. My knee pushed up a slipping fabric roll before I continued my walk, pace quickening as I saw the auditorium building up ahead. Finally, I would be able to set these down soon.

“Ahh!”

My foot caught on a crack on the sidewalk and fabric unrolled and went flying through the air. I scraped my hands against the pavement bracing my fall. Slowly I sat up and looked at my palms. They were red, some of the scrapes breaking the skin.

“Fuck. Really?”

With a groan, I reached for the nearest roll and checked the material. Thankfully the black silk was still intact and not ruined. Carefully I started the process of re-rolling it, wincing at the rawness on my hands.

“Need any help?” A voice spoke beside me. Before I could respond, the person knelt down and started rolling up another length of red material. I scoffed seeing who the voice belonged to. It was Jisung, from the bar last night.

“I’ve got it.”

“I just saw you hardcore face plant. I don’t think you’ve ‘got it’.”

He laughed at my scowl and continued to help pick up the fabric I had dropped. As I began standing up, he grabbed my hand. “What the hell dude?” I said, pulling away from his grasp.

“Woah. Chill! You scraped your hand. I’m just trying to help.”

He tucked the rolls under his arm and unzipped a pocket in his backpack, bringing out bandaids and some antiseptic spray. I eyed him warily, but let him take my hand again. He glanced up at my eyes, gauging my expression before continuing to uncap the spray.

“This will sting a little.”

“Tsk. I’ve sewed through my finger, I think I can handle- AHHH OW! FUCK!”

He laughed, his eyes turning into happy crescent moons. I had to admit he had a nice smile. Then again, how many times had that smile gotten him into the pants of half the female student body?

I watched as he opened up two bandaids, gently laid them over my palm, and covered the scrapes. When they were secure, he looked back up at me with that cocky smirk.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

I rolled my eyes and yanked my hand away. “Anyway, Jiwon-”

“Jisung.”

His brows furrowed in frustration but he quickly plastered on a more than fake smile. It was honestly kind of fun messing with him; he was so used to being treated like some kind of sex god it seemed he had forgotten what it was like to be a normal human being like the rest of us. “Thanks for the help. I’m gonna go now.”

“Hey! Wait! That’s not how you thank someone.” Jisung said, grabbing back the two rolls of fabric in his arms as I tried to take them.

“Oh? And how do you propose I thank you?”

He smirked and looked me up and down. His hand ran through his brown locks as his tongue ghosted over his lips. “Well, I mean...” He shrugged as if the thought was just occurring to him. “I can think of a few ways you could return the favor.”

“Your genitals don’t come with a built-in bulletproof shield, so you better watch yourself, fuckboy.”

Jisung visibly gulped and slowly shifted the fabric rolls in front of his waist. I almost smirked seeing the brief look of fear for his manhood; he shivered under my stare and then regained his composure. “Man, they don’t call you the Arctic Bitch for nothing.”

My face fell and I ran a hand through my hair. “Look, I’ve got work to do, corsets to make, and I have to figure out how to sew rhinestones onto a lavalier.” Jisung seemed to take notice of my change in demeanor.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, you’d be pretty offended if I called you a man whore. Same shit.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He scuffed his shoe on the sidewalk and played with the edge of one of the rolls. Just because I would rather get through my insane credit hours than suck up to some bitch who’d probably drop out in a year doesn’t mean I deserve to have this hurtful nickname.

“Where are you going? I’ll help you carry these.” Jisung interjected, breaking the very awkward silence. I shook my head and once again tried to take back my fabric.

“I’m fine. You can go back to class or whatever.”

“I was actually headed to the studio to record with Changbin, but I’ve got time.”

I sighed. This man was persistent and not in a good way. There was no way I was going to get rid of him. “Fine. But if you fuck up that fabric I’m making you pay for it.” He smiled and tucked the fabric under his arm, following me to the back of the auditorium building.

I watched Jisung take in everything in the hallway and on the walls as we made our way to the costume shop. “What? Have you never seen the backstage of a theater before?”

“Nah. I’ve only done small venues. Nothing with a stage like this.”

I had almost forgotten Jisung was a rapper. As we came upon the workroom door, I adjusted the fabric in my hand and then pushed the door open with my foot. Jisung followed after I motioned for him to enter the room.

“Y/n! Do we really have to bone corsets? Like can’t we just cheat and put in a plastic lining?” Felix called out not looking up from his workstation. He sounded hungover. “Lia is tiny. Why does she need a fucking corset anyway--heyyyy there’s Jisung......Y/n why is he here?”

I dumped the fabric on a work table and Jisung did the same. “I picked up a stray. Thought you might like a pet.” Jisung rolled his eyes when I pointed behind me. When I turned around, Jisung still stood with his hands in his pockets. “You can go now.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Yeah, what if he doesn’t want to, Y/n?” Felix said in a teasing tone. A quick but deadly glare sent his way quickly shut him up and caused him to turn around back to his workstation. Jisung sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Look. I’m meeting a couple friends at the bar tonight. Why don’t you come by?”

“Hard pass.”

“What if I want to go?” Felix chimed in.

“Yeah, what if he wants to go!” Jisung said with a smirk.

“Felix, shut up for like two seconds.”

Felix scoffed and returned to putting boning in a red lingerie corset. “We both know that’s not gonna happen.” He muttered under his breath. I heard Jisung let out a laugh at the little exchange.

“Whether I go to the bar or not tonight has nothing to do with you. It is probably reliant on the fact that I have no control over my best friend.” Felix chuckled behind me. Jisung shrugged and looked around the room before backing away.

“Okay.”

“Hey, Jisung! Put in a good word for me with Changbin?” Felix called out, leaning over his chair. Jisung let out a lighthearted laugh as he opened the door. Felix had a hopeful look on his face that made me want to vomit.

“Sure, why not.”

Then we were left in silence. I quickly began working, but I felt Felix’s stare on my profile. I knew he couldn’t stay silent for long. Felix couldn’t go four minutes and eighteen seconds without immediately spewing out his opinion. Seungmin and I had timed it once; exactly four minutes later, he erupted.

“ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH JISUNG?”

“Did you see me go home with him last night?”

“No....you went home with Seungmin--OH MY GOD ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH SEUNGMIN?!”

“What? No! Ew!” I said tossing an empty pin cushion at him. “Never in a million years.” Felix let out a hefty sigh of relief. My fingers quickly worked through sewing up a finished section of a corset.

Another silence followed as Felix turned back to our work. It was so obvious his thoughts were festering, just waiting to once again pop out. “So... how did Mr. Balls-for-Brains wind up helping you carry costume fabric?”

I shrugged, putting in another piece of spiral steel and lining it up in a corset panel. “He helped me when I tripped. Apparently, the music department recording studios are near here.”

“Uh....no they're not. The studios are on the other side of the Arts campus.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m pretty sure he was just hanging around the theatre buildings until he saw you.” Felix laughed as I shuddered. I took a quick breath as the needle pricked my finger. This conversation was seriously distracting me. “So....we are going out tonight though. Right?”

“I’m not going out dressed like this.”

“Just grab something from the racks. Mr. Jung won’t mind.”

“If we are going out, I’m drinking.”

“No argument from me. Then we get fun Y/n.” I threw another pin cushion at him, hearing a high pitched yelp beside me. The two of us worked for the next 6 hours until the sun started to set outside the Shop window. I let Felix dress me up from stuff on the racks and we called Lia and Seungmin to meet us at the bar.

When we arrived, it was certainly less packed than the night before. I pulled at the tight skirt Felix had put me in, wishing it to cover more of my thighs than its length allowed. Seungmin whistled as I sat down next to him at the bar. He turned my barstool to face him and Lia, who smiled and clapped at my appearance.

“Is this global warming because the Arctic is hot tonight!”

I slapped his shoulder and turned back to the bartender to order my drink. “I would recognize this anywhere. This is the work of the Great Felix Stylist extraordinaire.” Lia exclaimed, letting Felix take a bow. The bartender slid over my drink and I rested my feet against the bar stool. They were sore from the heels Felix had put me in; only once every so often would I let him play dress up on me.

The night rolled on and I even danced with Lia after a couple more drinks. We came back off the dance floor to see Jisung talking with Felix and Seungmin, his arm leaning against the bar. “Jackass alert,” I whispered to Lia as we approached.

Jisung’s eyes widened when he saw our approach. He seemed to drink in my entire body, not letting any part of me go unseen. “Hey, gorgeous.” He said with a smirk, his eyes dragging over me once again as he sipped his drink. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, I said standing next to Felix and stealing a sip from his gin martini. I was really thirsty after dancing so much with Lia. He glanced from me back to my friends who were watching us expectantly.

“I meant alone.”

With a nod, the rest of my friends started moving towards an open booth. I stopped Felix, a hand on his martini glass. “Leave it. I’m going to need more alcohol for this.” With a sigh and longing look at his drink, he left it in my hands.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not nearly enough.” I plainly stated before drinking some more of Felix’s martini. My face soured. I forgot he liked gin. Jisung laughed as I put the drink on the bartop.

“Look. I think you and I should go out.”

“And I think you should jump off a cliff. Preferably one the size of your ego.”

“Ouch.” He said with an unaffected smile. His eyes darted to a girl walking by us, but he quickly diverted his attention back to me. I tried not visibly throw up in my mouth at the action. “Let’s hang out this week.”

“Sorry; not into late-night booty calls since...well...ever.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair, a habit of his I had picked up on. I couldn’t decide if it was out of frustration or nerves. “Come on. I’m not that bad.”

“Your reputation says otherwise.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He smirked when I fell silent. My fingers played with the rim of the martini glass. I hated that he totally won that argument.

“I’ll make you a deal,” His words made me look up and quirk an eyebrow. “For the next two months, you get dinner with me twice a week and we text once a day.”

“I’m not going on a dinner date with you. I have zero time. I have to bring home my costume work as it is.”

“I never said it was a date. I just want to get to know you, Y/n.” Jisung chuckled and adjusted the clasp of my necklace, making me freeze. “We don’t have to go out to eat. I’m sure it’s hard to focus on work with a theatre major as a roommate. You can come over and I’ll order take out.” I had to admit that the offer sounded tempting. I loved Lia but she could be loud as fuck when prepping for a show.

“Still low key sounds like a date.”

“I swear I will not touch you unless you ask me to.” He winked and I rolled my eyes. “And you will ask me to. Eventually.” A heavy and anger filled sigh left my lips and Jisung leaned away. I honestly hadn’t noticed he had gotten closer.

“Lia is going to think something is up. Felix is for sure going to think I’m sleeping with you. And Seungmin...”

“You aren’t dating Seungmin are you?”

He smiled when I shook my head no. “Anyway, there is no way I’m telling my friends I am hanging out with you.” He shrugged and sipped more on his drink. I was starting to feel a little bit of the alcohol’s effect.

“I’m chill with that. So, you bring over your costume...stuff...on Monday and we can order in and get to know each other.” I shrugged and gave him a small nod. Jisung smiled in victory.

“You do know I’m not going to let you walk away from this conversation looking that happy.”

“And how do you propose you fix that?”

“I was thinking either a slap or a drink.” Jisung laughed and downed the rest of his drink, I assumed Jack and Coke, like the night before. He motioned with his fingers and tapped his chest.

“Give me your best shot, gorgeous.” His willingness made me laugh, genuinely. “Although, I would prefer not to have a huge red mark on my cheek.”

I nodded sarcastically. “Oh. Of course. We can’t damage the precious merchandise.” He groaned when I pinched his cheek. To be honest, I could not believe I was having a nice casual conversation with Han Jisung, 3RACHA’s legendary fuckboy.

“Well then, I’ll see you on Monday. I’ll be at the Shop.”

“I’ll see you then, gorgeous.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up Felix’s martini. “ASSHOLE!” I yelled before tossing the drink in Jisung’s face. “Wow, that was really fun,” I whispered with a smile before walking away to my friends.

“Y/N THAT WAS MY DRINK!! NO! MY ALCOHOL!” Felix said, fake crying.

❁

Jisung’s POV

The gin stung my eyes and Y/n was kind of blurry as she walked away, but I could hear the smile in her voice. This was ironically the first time I had let a girl toss a drink in my face. AND FUCK I WOULD NEVER LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.

I wiped my face and stumbled away from the bar, trying not to get even more liquor in my eye as I followed the laughter of my supposed ‘friends’ in our usual booth.

“And the King has struck out yet again,” Changbin said as I sat down. Chan laughed but handed me a napkin to wipe my stinging face. A couple strands of my hair fell wet in front of my eyes. “What is this? The third time you been denied by Y/n?” Bin laughed and drank from his (probably) fifth beer of the night.

“Han, I hate to say it. But I am so looking forward to seeing you in lingerie accepting your diploma.”

“I wouldn’t get ahead of yourself, Hyunjin.” All eyes turned to me as I blinked wildly. My vision was just starting to come back. I looked over to Y/n and her friends. Felix was chiding her about destroying his drink and Lia was high fiving her for throwing it.

“...But she threw a martini in your face. I think that qualifies failure in every book I’ve ever read.” Hyunjin scoffed. Little did he know I had Y/n exactly where I wanted her. Soon she would be eating out of my hands. She would be begging for me to sleep with her before she even knew it herself.

❁

Y/n’s POV

Three weeks had passed and I had been drowning in work. Though I hated to admit it...Jisung was the only thing keeping me sane. He had been a really good friend to me for the past few weeks. Lia was the only one who knew about my little dinner rendezvouses with Jisung. And I was correct in the fact that I had been subject to her relentless teasing.

“Are you sure you guys aren’t dating?”

“We are not dating. We are just getting dinner twice a week, getting to know each other, not seeing other people casually, and maybe some.....flirting-- AND OH MY GOD HE TRICKED ME. WE’RE DATING.”

Lia laughed at my realization. I threw down the dress I was working on for Lia’s finale scene. The sound of beads hitting the floor rung throughout the dorm. “What are you gonna do about it?” Lia questioned, adjusting herself on the couch.

“I’m going to go over there and question the shit out of his ass.”

“Hell yeah! Text me!” She cheered as I grabbed my keys and ran out the door.

I slammed my car door and stomped up the stairs of Jisung’s apartment building. A million angry thoughts ran through my mind as I stormed down the hall to his apartment. Without another thought, I burst through the front door, which was oddly...unlocked.

“HAN MOTHER FUCKING JISUNG! YOU TRICKED ME INTO DATING YOU AND I-”

I froze taking in the scene in front of me. Jisung stood wide-eyed shirtless and holding a bottle of water, sweat dripping off his forehead. Another boy, who I recognized as Chan from 3RACHA, dressed in a tank top and sweats was seated on the couch, his face full of surprise at my entrance.

“Oh- uh.....sorry...I’ll just come back when you have...clothes.”

“No, it’s fine! I was just leaving anyway. Thanks for going to the gym with me Han.” Chan grabbed his jacket and exited in the most polite power walk he could manage. Though not without giving Jisung a thumbs up and then shutting the door.

“So how long did you think you were gonna get away with this?” He smirked and opened the water bottle. I was struggling to look anywhere but his tan chest. He obviously noticed. “Oh my god. Would you please put a shirt on!” He chuckled and came closer to me.

“What? Do I make you nervous?” He looked me up and down with dark eyes. My heart pounded in my chest. “Look, I know you’re mad. But, you can’t tell me that you didn’t have fun hanging out with me. Can you?”

“No,”

“And you can’t say that you aren’t at least the tiniest bit attracted to me. Right?”

“I’m not...not attracted to you...”

Jisung smirked and slid his hand around my waist, pulling me so our chests brushed against each other. “That’s not a straight answer.” He smiled at my lack of response. Jisung was clearly enjoying this.

“Well- you’re...not a... straight answer.”

Jisung laughed and let go of me. “But, seriously Y/n. I don’t know about you, but I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks and I really like you.” He took my hand in his and laughed, making his eyes turn into crescents. “So, why don’t we make it official? Y/n, let’s date.”

I blinked a few times before turning away from him. This was not normal. My hands came up to my temple, a sharp pain suddenly emitting from there. “You can’t be serious,” I said, turning back to Jisung. “There’s no way you like me. You like girls for one night stands. I’m not like that. So there is no-”

Jisung’s lips crashed against mine, his hands gripping my wrists gently. He’s kissing me. What do I do? As if reading my thoughts he pulled away just enough to look into my eyes and smile. “Y/n, don’t overthink it. Just let go for once. You’re with me.”

His hand slid down to my waist and his fingers tangled in my belt loops, pulling me closer. My brain was in overdrive. I hadn’t been kissed in so long. Maybe what I said to Felix wasn’t totally the truth. Maybe I had just been depressing my long starved sex drive. Jisung was really nice and I really liked him. What would be the harm in letting myself have fun with someone I actually like for once?

“Okay...so maybe I like you a little bit.” Jisung smiled and brushed away a piece of hair near my face, grazing my cheek. My hands slowly came up to rest on his chest, his warm skin radiating off heat.

“So are we on the same page? You’re mine now?”

“Fine. I guess so,” I said with a laugh. Jisung smiled and kissed me again. His fingers dug into my hips and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Kissing Jisung made my head spin in the best way possible. Needing air for more than one reason, I pushed against his chest. “Hey, why don’t you go shower. I’m sure you need one after working out with Chan.” He smirked, his hands slowly moving lower than my waist. “No, I’m not showering with you.”

“Damn. Worth a shot. You wanna stay? I’ll order pizza.”

“Sounds good to me.” After kissing my cheek, Jisung turned and made his way to his bathroom. When the door closed I leaned against the couch for support. Keep it cool, Y/n. I have to remember to keep my guard up. Jisung can’t possibly just change overnight. While I want to trust him...something is holding me back.

Hopefully, I’m just paranoid.

❁

I rolled over in bed, not wanting to wake up. My hand brushed up against something cold. Opening my eyes, I saw my phone under my hand. The screen was still lit up and displayed a caller ID and call time of almost five hours. I smiled seeing Jisung’s name scrolling across the top. Did we really fall asleep on the phone?

Picking up the phone, I heard the sounds of his small breaths and soft snores. “Jisung,” Another soft snore made me smile. We had only been dating officially about a week, but I was really enjoying my time with him. “Jisung?”

“Mmph...I’m up...what’s happening?” He mumbled into the phone. Jisung must have fallen asleep on top of the phone. I laughed and sat up in bed, running a hand through my messy hair.

“I think we fell asleep on the phone, Ji.” His laugh could be heard over the phone.

“Ji?”

“What?”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me something other than my name or an asshole.” I blushed and rolled out of bed. “Y/n L/n are you starting to like me?” Jisung asked, his voice rough from just waking up. The gravely low tone sent a chill down my spine.

“Well, we are dating. That’s what two people do when they like each other, dummy.” I leafed through my closet, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder. He let out what sounded like a forced laugh. Maybe it was just my imagination. It was my brain searching for things to make me not trust him.

“You want to drop by the studio later? I should be working all day but it would be kinda cool to see you.” My ears picked up on the sound of his fingers racing across a keyboard. What could he be working on this early?

No, Y/n. Don’t go there. I have to at least try and trust him. I can’t be nosy and wondering about everything in his life when we’ve only been going out a short time.

“Uh, I can probably drop by around three. I have an exam today I can’t miss.”

“Okay. I’ll text you the studio number. See you later, gorgeous.” With that, he hung up the phone. I tossed the device on my bed and finished getting dressed. A ding notified me of a text. Glancing at it, I saw Jisung sent me the number of the studio number he would be working in and a heart.

It almost set me a little on edge. I knew his personality. I even knew a few of the girls who had the unfortunate experience of falling into bed with him. It just seemed a little weird to me how doting he was with me when he was never like that with other girls.

Maybe he really was trying to make a change? That couldn’t be impossible. Could it? People change. Most often in fairytales and movies, but it happens like 1% of the time, right? These thoughts swarmed through my head as I walked into my lecture hall.

I sat in my usual seat, arriving about five minutes before class was set to begin. Looking up, I saw several sets of eyes staring at me; all belonging to different girls. Some had looked of pity, some disgust, but all looked slightly confused. Ignoring them, I pulled out my notes for a few more moments of study time.

“You’re the girl whose dating Han, am I right?”

I looked up to find a very pretty girl with blonde hair and big doe-like eyes. “Umm...yeah. Is there a problem or something?” She shook her head and sat down next to me with a smile.

“Oh! No, not at all. I just had to see for myself that’s all. My name’s Momo. I’m a dance major. I have a mutual friend of Han’s, Hyunjin.”

I nodded, glancing from her to my paper. I wasn’t really used to this much attention during class. Usually, I just focused on the lecture or project and didn’t talk much. “Yeah, I know they are friends, but I don’t really know Hyunjin myself.”

She nodded and twirled a pen between her fingers. I started to wonder what her relationship was with the boys. She was obviously gorgeous and she seemed just like Jisung’s type. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had slept together before.”I’ve just heard so much about you. All those rumors are totally bogus by the way. I would love if we could be friends.”

She took my hand in hers with a bright and blindingly white perfect smile. Did she not know what personal space was? “Uh....sure. I guess that would be cool. I’m usually pretty busy with making costumes for the university’s musical.”

“Here! Take my number! We can go get coffee sometime. I’d love to hear all the juicy tea about the girl who finally got the famous Han Jisung to stop sleeping around.” Momo ripped a piece of paper from her perfectly organized agenda and wrote her number on it. The professor started speaking as she handed it to me. Holy shit it was scented!

This day was just getting more and more confusing for me.

❁

Jisung’s POV

The studio was freezing as per usual. Even bundled up in a beanie and hoodie I was cold, pulling the sleeves further down my hands. I watched the monitor carefully and adjusted the headphones over my ears.

“Okay, Bin! You’re good.” Chan called to the boy in the booth after I gave him a thumbs up. “So, I take it things with Y/n are...good,” Chan asked hesitantly. The topic of Y/n was a sore subject for him so I was surprised he brought it up.

“Oooooo We talking about the Snow Queen?” Changbin said plopping down on the couch near the wall. I turned in my chair to roll my eyes at him. “I’m taking that as a sign you haven’t gotten in her pants yet?”

“She’s honestly kind of a prude....well. Not a prude. But you know what I mean.” Chan shook his head at my words.

Changbin threw a ball of paper at my head, making me send another glare his way. “Isn’t this the longest dry spell you’ve had. How long has it been?” I sighed pulling the headphones down around my neck.

“One month, five days, twelve hours, and twenty-two minutes.”

“You know it’s gross that you keep track like that,” Chan said taking a swig from his water bottle. “Y/n seems like a nice girl. It’s kind of sick you and Hyunjin using her like this.” I shrugged, not really caring.

“I mean, I guess. But, I would rather be $1,500 richer.”

“Just remember Y/n has feelings too.”

I nodded and turned back to the monitor looking at the track we just recorded. As if on cue, the door opened and Y/n’s voice could be heard greeting the other boys.

“Hi!- Oh! Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else. I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

Turning, I saw her shaking hands with Changbin and Chan. “Y/n that’s Bin, and you’ve met Chan,” I said pointing to the boys. “Now you’ve met all of 3RACHA.” I pulled her hand, dragging her closer to my chair. Chan rolled his eyes when I pulled her down and kissed her cheek. The smile on her face did not go unnoticed by the boys.

“How was your exam?” I asked, playing with her fingers.

“It was okay. I passed for sure. A girl named Momo asked to get coffee with me. Apparently, she knows your friend Hyunjin.” My eyes went wide and I stood up, pulling her to my side with a nervous laugh.

“Well, uh... I think we’ve all done enough work today. Y/n you wanna go get some boba or something. I’m hungry what about you? Bye guys!” Quickly I pushed her out the door and waved goodbye to the boys.

I had my fingers crossed that Hyunjin was keeping his big mouth shut.

❁

A month and a half. That’s how long I had left before I lost and was forced to be utterly humiliated in front of the entire university. Y/n and I had been dating for almost three weeks and hanging out for longer. I had to make a move tonight.

My friend Minho had hooked me up with some tiny night vision camera that I had hidden all around my apartment. I knew Y/n was starting to trust me more, so this was the opportune time. She was coming over any minute now. I checked my reflection in the mirror and ran my hands through my hair.

$1,500 here I come.

A knock bounced off the walls of my apartment. I checked the time. 8:30 pm. She was late by about forty-five minutes, which was not usual for her. What was it she always said? Early is on time and on time is late? Some weird theater shit like that.

Something was up.

I rushed to the door and opened it to find Y/n standing at my doorstep. She gave me a tired smile and kissed my cheek in greeting. She looked like she felt awful. “Hi, Ji! Sorry, I’m late. Felix bailed on me so I had all this extra work to do for the musical and I have a semester project due this week-”

“Y/n what’s wrong?” She sighed and collapsed onto the couch. Sitting next to her I could see the concealer under her eyes attempting to hide the dark shadows. She never wore makeup unless she was going out. I was surprised even remembered that. “You can tell me anything, gorgeous.” She smiled when I took her hand.

This might be better than I thought. Comfort her. Get the proof I need. Shove it in Hyunijn’s face. I could tell she was deciding whether or not to trust me. If it was something small she would tell me no problem.

But... maybe this was something bigger.

“I’m just...really stressed.” She said, pushing her hair away from her face. I could see the wall she had slowly building itself back up. There was pain behind her eyes. She was hurting. Why did that make me sad?

“That’s not all this is.” I turned towards her fully, giving her my complete attention. She crossed her legs up on the couch and stared at her fingers. When I lifted her chin I saw tears on the brink of falling from her eyes.

“I just... feel like...- nevermind it’s stupid.” She shook her head and looked around my apartment. She tried to laugh it off but frowned when she saw my face. Y/n let out a shaky breath when I took her hands in mine, resting them in her lap.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. Just sitting across from each other on the couch. She seemed to be working up the courage to tell me something.

“Nothing I ever do...seems to be...enough.” I looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “I work my ass off. All the time. But, it feels like I can’t do anything right lately. Not enough for my mom. Not enough for my teachers. Certainly not enough for Tech Recruiters. I just feel like I’m falling short on everything I do. And I’m tired. I just want to be enough for someone. But, who am I kidding? Nobody likes me. I’m Seoul University’s Arctic Bitch, right? I’m too coldhearted and selfish to get anywhere in life, let alone convince any theatre company to hire me so I can pay off my student loans. I’m just so fucking tired of feeling this way. Sorry for whining. I know you probably had other plans for tonight.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared out the living room window. “Hey,” I said pulling her attention back to me. Surprisingly, she let me reach up and wipe a tear from her cheek. “Look at me,” Reluctantly Y/n met my eyes. “You are more than enough for me.” She looked down and smiled, wiping more tears on her sleeve.

“Really?”

“Really.” I ran my thumb over her knuckles and smiled at her. It took a lot for her to open up to me like that. “You have just been bottling this up haven’t you?” She nodded and wiped another tear, before looking back up at me. Her eyes were still beautiful even when she was crying. “I do that too. It’s a habit we should both fix. Could you talk to Lia? Or Felix?”

She shook her head and started playing with my fingers. I started to like the feeling of her smaller hands in mine. “Lia has her own stuff to worry about. Her dad keeps pressuring her to join an entertainment company. And Felix...well Felix means well, but...” I was relieved to see her smile again. Her laugh was contagious.

“Yeah, I get it. Kind of like Changbin and Chan. They mean well, but they don’t understand sometimes.”

She nodded and played with one of the rings on my right hand. “Thank you for listening. It really means a lot that I can trust you like this.”

“You trust me?”

“I never thought I would say that but... I would never have told Felix that and he is my best friend.”She reached up a cupped my cheek. Her hands were warm and inviting. I stared into her eyes no longer seeing hurt behind her E/c orbs.

“You’re beautiful. You know that?” I said without thinking. My eyes widened and I pulled away from her touch. I had never said anything like that. Usually, everything I said to Y/n had a purpose or plan behind it. But, I just spoke without thinking.

Y/n smiled, her eyes turning even brighter. She leaned forward and kissed me. Something about this kiss felt different than the times I had kissed her before. My heart started to race and goosebumps crawled over my skin. I smiled when her hands pulled me closer to her, tangling her fingers through my hair.

A sigh escaped my chest when her teeth grazed over my lip. She pulled away only for a second to catch her breath before coming back to me. I pulled away when she threw her leg over my lap and straddled me. “What are you doing?” I asked as she kissed from my lips down to my jaw. It was exciting not to be in control for once.

“Showing you how much you mean to me,” She whispered before kissing my lips again. Instinctively, my hands gripped her waist wanting for no space left between my body and hers. I felt close to Y/n in a different way. I feel like I had been in this exact position with other girls, but with her it was different. Something about kissing her like this felt intimate. Like it was just for us to share.

Fuck. The cameras. They were still recording all over the apartment.

“Uh- Y/n...” I said pulling away from her, my hands planted firmly on her hips. “Are you sure you want to do this, gorgeous?” My eyes widened as she nodded and continued to drag her lips across mine. “Because we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Please tell me to stop. If you don’t I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.

“Ji, I want this. Do you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Good. Do you trust me?” Y/n asked with a mischievous smile. I nodded watching her eyes twinkle in the low light of my apartment. She dragged her fingers down my chest and pulled at the hem of my shirt. As soon as the fabric was over my head and flung somewhere in the living room she smashed her lips onto mine.

My thoughts were running a mile a minute. How was I supposed to turn off all the cameras without her knowing? After seeing her in pain, I couldn’t hurt her like that. An idea popped in my head. Wrapping my arms around her waist I pulled her up and carried her, pushing her back against the nearest wall.

Her legs tightened around my waist, holding herself up. She looked down at me with hooded eyes before kissing me again. With one hand I kept her steady while the other searched the bookshelf next to me for the camera I put in the living room. Feeling the metal and plastic, I quickly turned it around blocking its view.

There should just be two more in my bedroom. “Ji,” Y/n moaned into my lips. She was driving me crazy. I was already more worked up from this than I had ever been with any other girl. She giggled when I carried her through the bedroom door and pressed her up against the wall. “You know...I haven’t done this in a pretty long time...” Her words were breathy and cut off when she joined her lips back to mine.

“You could have fooled me.”

My mind was kind of in a haze. All I could think about was Y/n. I couldn’t think straight with her hands all over me. Where did I put the second camera again? Her lips trailed down to my neck sending my brain and body into overdrive. Come on, Han. Focus.

The desk! Then the third was by my nightstand. I moved us over slowly, hoping she wouldn’t notice. I wanted to touch her so badly. But, I couldn’t betray her trust after she opened up to me like that. Joining my lips with hers, I felt blindly around the table for the small device. After I found it, I tucked it behind the monitor.

“Are you sure, gorgeous?” I asked one more time looking into her eyes.

“Jisung, stop asking or I swear I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna what?”

“I don’t know. Just kiss me damn it.” She smiled when I smashed my lips onto hers. Her fingers pulled at my hair as I dragged my lips down her jaw. She joined our lips as I picked her up and carried her to the bed. The bed dipped as she laid on the mattress. Before I could reach for the nightstand she pulled me over, straddling me on the bed again.

I tried to keep my brain clear as she attacked my neck and chest with her lips. Knowing she was distracted, I grabbed the camera and threw it across the room wanting this to be done. Her head turned at the sound, but I pulled her back to my lips.

“You drive me crazy,” I whispered, reaching down and pulling at the hem of her shirt. My lips latched onto every bare piece of skin I could find, wanting to feel every part of her. I was ready to be with her, in more ways than I had thought.

❁

Y/n’s POV

I lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Jisung laid beside me his arm slung across my stomach and soft snores leaving his lips. I smiled seeing him next to me. I had slept for a few hours but like usual, I had woken up in the middle of the night unable to fall back asleep.

Shifting onto my side, I looked at Jisung. He looked peaceful in his sleep. There was always something active about him when he was awake. Like he was never still. Seeing him in a state of calm was intriguing. My hand brushed the side of his cheek. A strand of his brown hair fell over his eyes, so I gently pushed it back and softly moved my hands through his locks.

Jisung let out a little hum in his sleep, making me smile. I started to pull away my fingers but Jisung’s hand shot up to keep it there, startling me. “What’s wrong, gorgeous?” Jisung mumbled, placing my hand back in his messy hair.

“I can’t sleep. Don’t worry about me.” I said quietly going back to playing with his soft brown tresses. He shook his head, brows furrowing in the cutest way. His fingers latched themselves onto my wrist, rubbing his thumb against my skin.

“I’m not sleeping unless you are,” He whispered, obviously half asleep.

“Shhh. Ji, go back to sleep.” Instead of complying he tugged me into his bare chest and started tracing soothing patterns on my lower back. In all honestly just that alone was making me just a little sleepy. My eyes were starting to droop, just laying in his arms, but my brain was still wide awake.

Suddenly, my ears picked up on the soft sound of Jisung singing. It was slow and gentle, his voice a little rough from sleep, but beautiful all the same. His voice was like honey, soothing my entire body. My fingers started to slow their movements as I tucked myself into Jisung’s chest.

I finally fell into a deep sleep listening to Jisung softly sing to me.

❁

Light streamed through the window, hitting me straight in the face. I groaned and tried to roll over. My brows furrowed when something stopped me. My tired eyes opened more to see Jisung still sounds asleep, holding onto me like a teddy bear.

Sensing my movements, Jisung’s eyes cracked open and smiled. “Good morning, gorgeous,” His voice was scratchy and low, sending chills down my spine. Jisung pushed himself up on his elbow and hovered over me with a drowsy smile.

“Morning, Ji,”

He genuinely smiled down at me and leaned down pressing his lips against mine. I felt him smile when I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Do you have class this morning?” He asked against my lips, which were most likely swollen from last night. Jisung himself had several darkening marks on his neck and collarbone.

“Not until tomorrow. Do you?”

“I was supposed to go record with Chan and Bin.”

“Supposed?”

“Like hell, I am going to leave you looking this beautiful in my bed,” Jisung said pressing his lips down my neck. “You want a shower? I’m gonna call Chan and tell him I’m not coming.” I nodded and pulled him up to my lips one more time.

“Thank you for last night, Ji. For everything.”

He smiled and kissed my cheek. “Feel free to borrow some of my clothes,” Jisung said with a smirk before rolling over and grabbing his phone on the nightstand. I grabbed a hoodie from his closet while he was distracted with his phone and headed to the bathroom.

❁

Jisung’s POV

“Chan, I’m in deep shit,” I whispered into the phone. I checked to make sure Y/n was out of the room. Chan scoffed over the line.

“Han. It is way too early for this. Did you accidentally email your professor a pornhub link again?”

“What no!” Chan sighed. “Look, Y/n’s over here.” He started freaking out over the phone. I sighed letting his panic play out.

“Oh no, no, no. You are not dragging me into this. Y/n is a nice girl. I want nothing to do with your and Hyunjin’s sick bet-”

“I think I’m starting to really like her. Like a lot.”

There was silence on the other side of the line. I decided that he was probably waiting for more information. Or he had passed out. Either was a probable response from Chris. “But, she’s at your apartment? Han, it’s like ten in the mornin-...You didn’t.” He took my silence as confirmation. “How could you? You said you like her!”

“I didn’t technically. I had these cameras set up, but I turned them off after she opened up to me and stuff started to happen.”

“YOU SET UP ACTUAL CAMERAS TO FILM HER?”

Chan screamed so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. Even then I could still hear him. “Did you hear the part where I said I turned them off. I have no proof....and honestly....I’m starting to question if I want any.”

“Wow. Good for you. You’ve had personal growth. Whoop-de-doo.”

“Hey. I am asking for advice, not sarcasm.” I said with a sigh. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling it sticking up in weird places. “What should I do? Chan...I really like Y/n, but I’ve been lying to her up until now.”

“You’ve got to tell her the truth eventually.”

“But, what if she hates me. I don’t think I could handle hurting her.” Chan sighed again. I could practically see his face. The guy probably just woke up and I was putting all this stress on him.

“I don’t know what to tell you,”

“I get it. Just don’t tell anyone about what we talked about, okay? At least until I figure out how to tell Y/n. I’m gonna stay here and think about it.” With that, I hung up the phone and laid back in bed. My fingers massaged my temple, feeling a sharp pain there.

Did I really want to keep up this bet?

❁

Y/n’s POV

A weel later Jisung and I were doing even better than we were before. We were actually going out on dates and also...staying in and doing...other things. Jisung had invited me to come and see 3RACHA perform tonight at a local club, so Felix was fussing over my outfit.

“Felix, I am not fitting into that dress.”

“You can squeeze!”

“A Polly pocket couldn’t fit into that tiny ass thing!”

“Come on, Y/n! Be my Barbie!” Felix said chasing me around the costume shop with a tiny piece of white fabric that barely passed the social standard of being a dress. Eventually, he tackled me and wrestled me into the tight-fitting dress.

“I feel naked.”

“Oh, please. He’ll love it.” Felix said throwing a pair of heels at me. I looked longingly at my pair of old tennis shoes. “If you aren’t wearing pumps at least wear some boots. We are clubbing after all.”

“Lix, we aren’t clubbing. We are watching Han perform.”

“Same difference.”

I sighed and slipped on the black heeled boots Lix threw on my workstation and grabbed the brightly colored graffiti jacket that Jisung ‘left’ at my dorm. He had been leaving more and more of his clothes lying around my room. I wasn’t complaining.

I drove both of us to the club and covered my ears entering the loud establishment. 3RACHA were already up on stage and performing a song so we pushed our way to the front. All the boys looked a little tipsy and had beers up on stage with them. Jisung saw me in the crowd and blew a kiss in my direction sending the whole crowd into a frenzy.

The show was incredible, though after I couldn't seem to get anywhere near Jisung. All the boys were hounded with fans and the crowd around them was too big to get through. “This is ridiculous. I can’t even get to my own boyfrien-” My world stopped when I looked over in Jisung’s direction by the bar. I swear everything happened in slow motion.

A girl with long platinum blonde wavy hair was draped all over Jisung’s arm. He talked to her while drinking yet another beer. I watched as she leaned up and cupped his cheeks, bringing him down for a sloppy kiss. The crowd cheered and I began to feel dizzy. “Y/n,” I heard Felix say, grabbing onto my elbow.

“I’ve gotta get out of here.”

The bass was so loud I could feel it pounding against my brain as I pushed through the crowd of dancing bodies. I heard someone calling my name, but I didn’t really want to talk to anybody. I just needed air. I needed to think.

“Y/n!”

I finally broke through the crowd and made my way outside the club. Where was my car? Where the fuck did I park? I ran a hand through my hair and looked around me trying to find my car in the see of dimly lit vehicles.

“Y/n!” A hand grabbed my arm and turned me around. Jisung stood before me, clearly drunk with lipstick all over his face. “Y/n, baby, it’s not what you think.” His voice, which had become my favorite sound, was slurred and broken up.

“Not what I think? Tell me, then. What was it?”

“Mina, she was drunk. She kissed me, but it didn’t mean anything. You know I only have feelings for you.” Did I know that? There was always this little thought in the back of my mind no matter how much I trusted Jisung that told me I was just another number in his playbook.

“Yes, she did kiss you. But that is a fucking cop-out. Because there is a reason she felt like that was an option.”

I tried to push away the tears that threatened to fall. Jisung broke looking at me. I wanted nothing more than for him to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay, but I didn’t know if I could trust him right now. I could tell it hurt him when he reached out and I backed away, tears inevitably falling down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry. I die when you cry.”

“Jisung you can’t do that!” I said watching a tear drip down his cheek.

“What?”

“You can’t make me love you when I’m supposed to hate you!” I said slapping his shoulder and letting the tears flow freely. Not hesitating, he wrapped me up in his arms, even when I tried to push him away. He let me cry on his shoulder and beat on his chest until it physically hurt to breathe.

“You’re right. It is a cop-out.” His hand came up and rubbed my back like he had done every night he stayed with me. “Y/n, I’m so sorry I let it happen. I don’t know what I was thinking.” My knuckles turned white, gripping onto his shirt.

“Jisung, I’m tired of being hurt.”

“You are my everything, gorgeous.” He said lifting up my chin. I hated crying and feeling like this. It just sucked not being able to trust him when I wanted to be with him so badly.

“How do I know I’m not just another random hookup for you?”

“Because...” My heart dropped when he couldn't say anything.

“That’s the answer I needed. Thanks.”

I started to walk away but he grabbed my arm, pulling me back into his chest. Jisung smashed his lips on mine, desperation, and passion filling the kiss making my knees go weak.

“That’s how.” He said, pulling away.

❁

I woke up the next morning, in Jisung’s bed light streaming through the window. I really should get him curtains. I smiled thinking back to last night. Jisung promised to show me that I wasn’t just another girl to him. And boy did he. I had never felt so loved than when I was with Jisung last night.

I grabbed a big shirt of his that was lying around and slipped it over my head. My feet carried me out into his living room, where bright sunlight illuminated his only slightly messy apartment. A note on the coffee table caught my eyes.

Morning gorgeous,

Went out to get coffee and breakfast for us.

I’ll be back soon, so sit tight.

Ji <3

I smiled at his handwriting and the heart he left me. Lifting my legs up, I got comfortable on the couch and waited for Jisung to get back. The sound of a notification filled the room. Did I leave my phone in here?

I searched for the device and found it face-up on the counter. It said I had one voicemail. Swiping on the notification the voicemail started playing. The voice of a boy I didn’t recognize filled the living room as I brought the phone back over to the couch. “Hey, it’s Hyunjin,” Oh. This must be Jisung’s phone. I was about to put it back until I heard the boy continue.

“Just reminding you, you’ve got two weeks to get into Y/n’s pants or you lose the bet. Your reputation as campus King is on the line, bro. Oh and don’t forget the cash prize.”

I couldn't move.

❁

Han Jisung’s POV

The coffee line took forever, but I finally got my order and excited the shop. I was trying to balance the cup holder in one hand and hold the door open for another customer when something slammed into my shoulder. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Han?”

I looked up to see Hyunjin with a sly grin on his handsome face. “Hyunjin?” He clapped me on the back and helped me hold the door. “What’s up, man?” I asked when we were both standing outside.

“I actually just called you like twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh, sorry I think I left my phone at my apartment.” I shrugged, trying to move along the conversation. Hyunjin was the last person I wanted to see. Especially after what happened last night with Y/n. “What about?”

“Just to remind you that you’ve got two weeks until you officially lose our bet. Don’t worry, I left a message so you can’t forget.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. My phone was still in the apartment with Y/n. “Oh, shit,” I muttered, eyes going wide. Hyunjin seemed to pay my reaction no mind. He was still stuck in his own world like usual.

“Whose the other coffee for by the way?”

Fuck. She was gonna hear the message. No. She can’t hear it from Hyunjin. That asshole is going to ruin any chance I have left with her. Dropping the coffee and take away bag, I started sprinting across campus back to my apartment.

“HAN, WHAT THE FUCK?”

I prayed that Y/n was still asleep. Maybe I could get there before she woke up, delete the message and just put this whole bet thing behind me. Doing Hyunjin’s punishment seemed like nothing compared to losing Y/n. I burst through the lobby doors and spotted my landlord already in his office.

“Mr.Kang!”

“Good lord! Mr. Han, what can I do for you?”

“Uh...my girlfriend- the uh woman I came back with last night. Has she left yet?” I said completely out of breath. He stared at me like I was insane.

“Not to my knowledge. I didn’t even realize you were serious about someone.”

Before he even finished his sentence, I was pushing myself off his doorframe and racing to the elevator. I slammed the button and watched the elevator come down but it was taking too long for me. “Fuck this.” Racing up the stairs my heart pounded in my chest. Would she even still be there? Or would she just leave and not give me a second chance?

“Y/n?” I called halfway down the hall. I could care less about my neighbors at this point. “Y/n?” I burst through the door, knowing I left it unlocked. I let out a sigh seeing Y/n seated on the couch. My face fell, when I saw the dried tears on her cheeks. Without looking at me, she reached in front of her and played a recording on my phone. Hyunjin’s voice filled the room.

“Hey, it’s Hyunjin. Just reminding you, you’ve got two weeks to get into Y/n’s pants or you lose the bet. Your reputation as campus King is on the line, bro. Oh and don’t forget the cash prize.”

She stood up and kept her stare on the phone. She looked broken.

“Are you going to say something?” Her voice cracked like she was holding back tears.

All I could do was cross to her and take her in my arms. I held onto her, cradling her head against my chest, my heart still racing from the mild panic attack that was just now catching up to me.

“Thank god you’re still here.”

I felt a few tears fall from my cheek and into her hair. “Jisung...was that all I was to you? Some payout? A way to keep your title of Biggest Fuckboy on campus?” She pushed away from me and walked to the other side of the room. The distance felt like miles.

I could feel my heart breaking. “What-no. Maybe at the beginning, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter? It doesn’t matter, Jisung? Yes. Yes, it does matter. You can’t keep lying to me and expect me to forgive you every time.” She yelled at me from across the room. I had never seen her this hurt or angry and it killed me.

“Y/n, please. Listen to me.”

“Listen to you? Your buddy Hyunjin just told me the whole fucking thing!”

“No! You have to hear it from me! What he said- it’s all turned around and screwed up. That’s why I wanted to be the one to tell you.” She backed away as I came closer.

“Why didn’t you just tell me last night?”

“Because I was afraid! I was afraid none of this would be real and this feeling would go away; that the meaning would be lost.”

“The meaning of what, Jisung?”

I grabbed her hand in desperation, scared she might walk out the door at any moment. “This. Right here. Us. You and me.”

“Jisung, there is no you and me anymore.” She said pulling away and walking back towards the bedroom. I raced forward and blocked the doorway. “Jisung, move.” She said pushing against my chest.

“No.”

“Jisung! I want out! I can’t love someone I can’t trust.” She pushed through me with as much force as she could manage. I watched as she picked up the dress she was wearing last night from the floor. She tore off my shirt that she was wearing and threw it in my face. Y/n struggled to put the white dress back on before grabbing her shoes and trying to walk past me.

“Y/n! Don’t leave, please.”

“How much was I worth Jisung? How much money were you going to get for fucking me?”

“$1,500. But, I didn’t take it! I didn’t even tell them that I slept with you because I didn’t care about the bet anymore. Y/n, please believe me. I will get down on my knees if you want me to.” She just stared at me in the doorway. “I will do anything to get you to stay.” Another silence passed. I felt small under her gaze. She had every right to be furious at me.

“Kneel.”

Quickly, I got down on my knees. I had never moved faster in my entire life. I looked up at her, sharing the same tear-stained cheeks. To my surprise, she got on her knees with me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Please, don’t hurt me anymore, Ji.”

Nodding I wrapped my arms around her and pulled Y/n into my lap. “I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry. I love you, Y/n. I’m sorry.” I cried into her shoulder. We just sat on the floor of my bedroom, holding onto each other, waiting for what would happen next.

❁

Y/n’s POV

The zipper on Jisung’s graduation gown was being a real pain in the ass. It had gotten stuck two inches from the top. They had already called my name and given me a diploma, so I came to sit with my boyfriend. He fidgeted while I sat in his lap.

“Man, this thing is tight.”

“Well, keep in mind I didn’t make it for you. I made it for Lia. Also, do you know how many girls would love their waist to fit into this?” I said slapping his shoulder.

“I think I’d rather be able to breathe.”

“Beauty is pain, Ji.” I said as I messed with his zipped. He nervously tapped on my thigh and waist as he listened to the Dean call out the names of students. “Damn this zipper.” My years of costume study were now being defeated by the zipper on my boyfriends graduation robe. “Ah-ha!” The zipper finally complied and moved up to the top of the robe.

“Han Jisung. Music Production Major.” The Dean called out over the speakers.

“Knock em dead, Ji,” I said kissing his cheek. Jisung smiled and walked up to the stage. Before the Dean could hand him his diploma Jisung unzipped his robe and the entire student body was filled with gasps and laughs. Jisung proudly presented himself wearing the red and black lingerie and corset I had made for Lia in the musical. It left nothing to the imagination, especially below the bodice.

The look on the Dean’s face was priceless and Jisung twirled in front of him and laughed along with our graduating class. Jisung shook the Dean’s hand and took his diploma. Before he walked off the stage he turned around pushed his robe aside and slapped his own ass receiving many cheers and wolf whistles from the students.

I laughed as he came back to his seat. He gave me a great big kiss and pulled me back onto his lap. “That was a piece of cake,” Jisung said, wrapping his arms around my stomach and resting his chin on my shoulder. I kissed his forehead with a big grin.

“I have never been so attracted to a man in lingerie.”

❁

Requests are open! Just send and ask, lovelies!

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atths--twice · 3 years

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Chapter Two

Time for a non date date!

Scully stood in front of her closet in only underwear as Emily clung to her.

“Okay, what do you wear to a ‘not a date, but you want it to be a date?’”

Scully’s best friend Ellen gave her a look. “Day, you obviously like him, just tell him.”

“I can’t do that!” she said flustered as she turned around. “I mean, yeah he’s a psych professor, so he’s not going to judge me, but be reasonable, El. I’m a single mom. There’s not really a market for women like me.”

“Of course there is.”

“Single moms under thirty.”

“Okay, we’ve narrowed it down a little, but I really think he likes you too.”

“You don’t even know him, how could you possibly know that?”

“Please,” Ellen scoffed, pulling a dress of deep midnight blue from the closet and laying it on the bed. She took Emily from her and smiled as she tickled her. “He, without any prompting, offered to watch a child he’d never met to help you out and allow you to teach your class. He could have said something cruel or rude, but he was helpful. He. Likes. You.” Scully stared at her and Ellen raised her eyebrows. “Deal with it. Get dressed, I’ll get little miss ready for our sleepover.”

“You don’t need to keep her overnight, I’ll come and get her after I get home.”

“No. The house will be empty, giving you a chance to…” She wiggled her eyebrows and Scully raised hers.

“This is a first date… or not a date, just drinks. That’s all. It’s not going to lead to… anything you may be suggesting. Or thinking.” She shook her head and Ellen shrugged.

“Nothing? Not even a kiss?”

“I… I don’t know. But it definitely won’t be what’s going through that dirty mind of yours.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Get out of here. Let me get dressed.” She laughed as she smacked her playfully and Ellen walked toward the door.

“Put on the push-up bra, it makes your boobs look great in that dress.”

“Ellen…” Scully warned.

“O-kay, we’re going to go and let you get dressed up for your not date. Remember the bra.” Ellen wink and gave a smirk.

Scully stared at her as she started to close the door and Ellen tilted her head, raising one hand in a ‘have it your way, but you know I’m right’ gesture.

She closed the door and leaned against, shaking her head. Looking down, she sighed. Pushing away from the door, she walked to her dresser and took out her black and pink push-up bra.

Undoing the clasps on the one she was wearing, she took it off and slid on the other, mumbling under her breath about how very annoying Ellen could be when she was right.

Across town, Mulder changed his shirt for the third time, a different tie for each.

“This is so stupid,” he murmured to himself, deciding to stick with this shirt no matter what. “It’s just drinks. Not a date.”

But what if it was? He didn’t want to show up looking shaggy or too casual.

“Damn,” he said, taking off the navy tie and his shirt before reaching for the one he’d had from the start, plaid with green and dark blue.

Buttoning it over his white undershirt, he picked up the gray tie and quickly tied it. Tucking it into his dark jeans, he buttoned and zipped them and tightened his belt. He put on some brown boots and walked to the bathroom to fix his hair.

He smiled at his reflection, thinking he actually looked quite nice for their date. No… not a date. Just drinks. He sighed, wishing it was more, but he would follow Scully’s lead on this one.

His phone beeped and he stepped into the bedroom to get it, finding an email from Scully. Heart racing, fearing she was cancelling, he opened the message and saw she had sent the address to her house. He smiled and emailed back that he would be there in twenty minutes.

Grabbing his car keys, wallet, and phone, he said goodbye to the fish and lifted his jacket from the coat rack. Locking the door behind him, he ran down the stairs, not having any patience to wait for the elevator.

He pulled up to her house twenty minutes later, on the dot. Taking a deep breath, he got out and walked through the short gate and up the front path. He grinned as he looked around the yard of the little house. There were signs of her life with Emily everywhere: outdoor toys left in the grass, colorful pinwheels in the garden, a child’s stroller and a baby doll stroller off to the side, chalk drawings on the cement, and little shoes and rain boots by the front door.

Smiling at the sign hanging from a nail on the door that read: Welcome to the chaos, we’re glad you’re here, he knocked and waited.

She opened the door and he drew in a breath, completely unprepared for the sight before him.

She wore a dress of dark blue and silver strappy heels. Her hair was down, where she usually wore it pulled back in a ponytail, and he saw it was longer than he had previously thought. She was wearing her makeup differently than she normally did too, her eyes and lips darker.

And sweet Jesus did she smell good.

“Hey,” she said quietly and he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he croaked out and she laughed. Clearing his throat again, he nodded. “Hello.” His voice sounded normal and she gestured for him to come in with a smile.

“I just need to grab my purse and my jacket and I’ll be ready. Make yourself at home.”

He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen as she went to what he assumed was her bedroom.

“Emily’s not here?” he called as he looked around with a smile.

Again there was evidence of a life of which he had not had any previous knowledge. Brightly colored plastic plates sat drying on the side of the sink. A booster seat was connected to a kitchen chair. There were toys in baskets under the lip of the island counter full of different types of toys: dolls, trucks, a doctors kit, a toy microscope, and a wooden train set. Pictures on the wall and fireplace were of her and Emily, what appeared to be her with her parents and siblings with and without Emily, and a couple of pictures of Scully when she was pregnant.

“Oh, no,” she called back, her heels clicking on the wooden floor as she walked into the room, pulling a gray jacket around her shoulders. “My friend Ellen is watching her tonight. At her place.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Though I was kinda hoping to see her for a minute.” She stared at him and he smiled. “She’s a sweet little girl. I enjoyed spending time with her today.”

“Well… thank you.” She blushed. “And thank you again for your help, it meant a lot.”

“Of course.”

“Should we get going?” she asked as she pulled her arms through the sleeves.

“Yeah, other people deserve to see you in that dress,” he said, smiling as he stepped closer.

“Is it too much? I uh… I don’t get the chance to go out often and I-”

“God, no. You look beautiful. You are beautiful.” She stared at him again and he blushed furiously. “I just…”

“Thank you.” She grinned and he exhaled, feeling like he’d stuck his foot in his mouth. “You look really nice too. I like that shirt.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, happy he’d made the right clothing choice. “So how about those drinks?”

“I like the ambiance of this place,” she said as they sat down. “It’s… I know this might sound weird or… but it feels young and happy.”

“As if you’re an old woman,” he teased and she smiled.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I love my life, my daughter. She’s everything to me. I wouldn’t trade a day of my life when it comes to how it changed when I found out I was pregnant. But… I’m not even thirty and sometimes I feel with school, life, and then her, I missed it. That feeling of no worries or cares. Being here…” She gestured to the bar that was full of college students, music playing from somewhere, the sound of pool balls cracking, and laughter. “I feel young again and even if it’s for a little while, I like it.” He smiled at her as the waiter arrived to take their order.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” he said and looked at her.

“A dirty martini. Really dirty.”

“You got it,” the waiter laughed and she stopped him from leaving.

“I mean, I want it so dirty, it’s cloudy. Grey Goose vodka.”

“You just became my new favorite person,” he said and winked at her as she laughed.

She fanned herself and took off her jacket, placing it across the back of the chair. He too took off his jacket, the bar definitely warm.

“So dirty martinis, huh?”

“Mmhmm. Oh and Bloody Marys. Those are my two favorites.”

“Good to know.”

She smiled, leaning forward with her chin on her hand, her blue eyes shining.

“Here we go, let me know if that’s dirty enough.” The waiter set Mulder’s whiskey down and then her martini.

“Oh, I can already tell it is,” she said, reaching for the stem of her glass. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure. “Perfect.”

“Good.” The waiter winked again and walked away.

“A toast,” she said, raising her glass and holding it closer to Mulder. “A thank you really… for helping me and giving me an excuse to get out of the house for a little while.”

“Cheers to that. And you’re absolutely welcome… again.”

They clinked their glasses together, both of them smiling.

“So…it was hard at first, but once we had a routine, it fell into place. I don’t miss getting up four times a night, though.”

“And does her father see her?”

“No. Not… I haven’t decided if he will. I don’t want to keep Emily from her dad, but he’s made no effort or shown any interest so…” She shrugged as she looked down at her drink.

“Well, he’s an idiot. She’s a great kid.”

“She is. Though you may not have thought so when she was sick yesterday.” She laughed and he shook his head.

“No, I would’ve.”

She lifted her head and he suddenly noticed how flushed her cheeks were. Had he made her blush? No… it wasn’t that. Reaching out, he touched her cheek gently and his eyebrows shot up.

“You’re hot.”

“Um… what?” she asked, pulling back a bit.

“I think you might have a fever.”

“I don’t… I’m…” She touched her forehead and stared at him. “Oh…” He smiled as he reached out again and placed his hand on her forehead and this time she leaned into his touch.

“Yeah, you definitely have a fever. I don’t think alcohol and these nachos are the best food for you to be eating right now. I actually think we should get you home and into bed.”

“Hmm, but I…” She looked around and then down at her dress. “I…”

“Scully,” he said softly, cupping her cheek, his thumb grazing her warm skin gently. “We can do this again. Wow, you’re really hot.”

“I’m going to choose to accept that as a compliment and nothing else.” She closed her eyes and exhaled as he chuckled quietly. Her eyes opened slowly and he saw now how glassy they had become.

Taking out his wallet, he put down two twenties and a ten, knowing it was more than the amount of the check, but not caring. All he was concerned with, was taking her home and getting some medicine into her system.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He helped her to her feet and she hummed as she bumped into him. Grabbing her purse and jacket, he placed an arm around her shoulder. She was so warm, he could feel the heat coming off of her through his shirt.

“Seriously, you’re so hot. Should I take you to the emergency room?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” He nodded, though he didn’t quite believe her. Keeping a hold of her as they left the bar, he led her to the car.

She kept her eyes closed on the drive back to her place, the little house he had liked as soon as he had arrived to pick her up. It was so her. Her and Emily.

“We’re here,” he said softly after a few minutes and she opened her eyes.

“That was fast,” she murmured and he chuckled as he took off his seatbelt. A trip was always faster when a person was asleep for the majority of it.

Or all of it in her case.

He opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her out. God, even her fingers felt overly warm.

“My keys are… in my purse. I think…” She started to reach inside, but he stopped her, taking her purse and finding them himself instead.

The door unlocked, he pushed it open and turned on a light. She stumbled past him and started removing her jacket before heading to the bathroom. He followed and waited outside.

“Shit.” He heard a minute later.

“You good?” he asked.

She opened the door and looked at the thermometer. “A hundred and two and some change,” she said, defeated. “As if I need more to worry about. Oh,” she shivered suddenly. “Great, now I’m freezing. Can you get my phone for me?”

Mulder looked in her purse and took out her phone. Handing it to her, she folded in on herself to keep warm as she tapped on the screen before holding it to her ear.

“Hey, El… actually, we had to cut it short… I think I caught whatever Emily had… I can manage, but… I know you offered, but… you know I hate asking you to do that… well have you asked Em?...” Her voice changed as the voice on the other end of the phone became higher-pitched and more energetic.

“Hey, baby… listen, Mommy’s sick, she doesn’t feel good… I know, but I don’t want to get you sick again… it’s just until tomorrow, okay?... you be good for aunt Ellen, okay?... I love you, Em.” She hung up the phone soon after and looked at him.

“Well, I’m down for the count. I need to email my students and tell them not to come tomorrow. Oh, I need to send them their reading and assignments. Fuck, I…” She stopped talking, spacing out.

“Scully, you okay?”

She said nothing, just bolted into the bathroom and huddled over the toilet as undigested food made its way up.

He waited outside the bathroom, leaning against the wall and listening to her vomiting. He sighed, wishing he could do something to help her. The toilet flushed and he heard the sink running and then she groaned as she leaned against the door frame.

“I feel terrible. Ugh…”

“You need some medicine, where do you keep it?”

“My bathroom.” She pushed off the door frame and walked down the hall, him following behind her. She sat on the bed and pointed to the bathroom with a groan. “The medicine cabinet.” He smiled and walked into the bathroom.

As he grabbed the bottle of medicine and turned around, he saw the bathtub and somehow the sight of it was when he fell in love with her.

It was a rather large tub, no doubt something she enjoyed relaxing in as evidenced by the baskets in the corner with magazines, candles, and bottles of bubble bath and oils. But it wasn’t that which caused him to fall, it was the items along the edge of the tub.

Rubber bathtub toys of sea creatures, jungle animals, ducks, and unicorns lay all along the edge. Cups of different sizes, a bottle of bubbles to blow, and bathtub crayons sat beside them.

Seeing how their lives were so intermingled, thinking of how she would need to move those items in order to have a calming bath, it endeared him to her as a mother and a woman. So many men he knew needed a ‘man cave’ and their ‘own time.’ Mothers, well most mothers, didn’t get that option. And he knew Scully was her own person aside from motherhood, but seeing evidence of it right in front of his eyes, he was a goner.

“Did you find it? I know it’s a mess in there…”

“No, I’ve got it.” He walked out of the bathroom and saw her sitting on the bed with her eyes closed and he smiled.

Yeah. He was a goner.

She was sleeping, breathing deeply out of her mouth. He watched her, feeling her head and nodding as it felt cooler, though not as cool as it should be. She had changed into her pajamas as he had gotten her some water to take her medicine. After she did, she had laid down with a sigh.

“I’m so sorry our date was cut short,” she had breathed and he knelt beside the bed, brushing the hair off of her face. Her eyes had fluttered open and he smiled.

“Rain check, remember?” She had nodded and whined slightly. “You get some sleep.” She had nodded again and closed her eyes.

She had fallen asleep quickly and he left her alone to get more water to leave beside her bed.

Now, he watched her sleeping, hoping she would be feeling better soon. He would wait for a bit and see if she needed any help, knowing it was hard being sick on your own.

Walking to the kitchen, he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his tie. He looked around again and found he really liked being there, felt comfortable in her space; it was very inviting. Looking more closely around the rest of the house, he smiled at the photos on the walls and pictures drawn by Emily: lines of color with no particular form, but treated as beautiful art. He liked that.

Checking on her again, she was still sleeping, feeling cooler now. He nodded as he left the room, closing her door halfway. Sitting on the couch, he turned the television on low and took a deep breath. Just a bit longer and he would check her again.

He jerked awake almost two hours later as he heard the toilet flush and he jumped up, hurrying down the hall. She was coughing and he knocked but received no answer. Hearing her vomit, he walked into the bathroom and saw her huddled over the toilet.

Looking at the sink, he saw a black rubber band and picked it up. Stepping closer to her, he gathered her hair and tied it back.

“Oh… I… mmmm,” she groaned and threw up again.

He stood up and found a washcloth in a basket by the tub and he wet it with cool water. Laying it across her neck, she moaned out a thank you.

“I think I’m done. There can’t possibly be anything left. Ohhh.” She flushed the toilet and he helped her up. “I need to brush my teeth.” She walked to the sink and took her time brushing them.

Back in bed, he wiped her face with the washcloth and she sighed. Satisfied she was okay, he went back to the living room.

He stayed on the couch, waking with the rising sun, and stumbling to the front bathroom to pee. Hands washed, face rinsed, he walked to her room to find her sleeping, her hair damp.

“Good,” he murmured, feeling her forehead and finding it cool. Her fever must have broken in the night. She stirred, but did not wake.

Taking her glass, he went to the kitchen and got more water, bringing it back to her room and then going back to the kitchen to find something to eat. A bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee later, he heard her shuffling down the hallway.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were still here.” He turned and looked at her, smiling at her disheveled appearance. She was absolutely adorable. “Shit, I must look terrible.” Her hand went to her hair and he shook his head.

“You look more than fine.”

“Hmm. You’re a liar.” He laughed and she smiled.

“Let me make you something to eat.” She groaned and he stood up with a smile. “Just toast for now.”

“And maybe some tea?”

“Sure.”

She fell asleep on the couch, her tea half drunk and only one piece of toast eaten. Her head was on a pillow beside his leg and he had to fight the urge to run his fingers through her hair. His phone beeped and he saw a message from Tyler.

Took care of your classes for today. Spoke to Dr. Scully’s assistant and she emailed the students the information they needed. Hope she feels better soon. If you need anything else let me know.

He typed a quick message back and set his phone beside him.

Thanks Tyler, appreciate it.

He glanced at her again and clenched his jaw. Just once would be okay, he convinced himself, placing his hand on her head and running his fingers slowly through her hair.

Just once, he thought, determined to stick to his own rule.

But then she hummed and he paused.

“Feels good,” she whispered and he smiled, continuing to let her soft hair run through his fingers.

A while later, Mulder heard the door unlock while Scully was bathing and he was on high alert. Ellen appeared in the doorway and was startled by his presence.

“Oh! I didn’t realize… are you…?” she said, standing in the front hall.

“Guppy fish!” Emily said and attempted to wiggle from Ellen’s arms. She set her down and she ran to Mulder, lifting her arms to be held. He grinned as he bent down and picked her up.

“Hello, Em. How are you today?”

“We go see guppy fish?”

“Oh… not today sweet one. Mommy isn’t feeling well.”

“Mommy sick?”

“Yeah, but we can see the fish next time, okay?” She touched his tie, holding it in her hands and nodding seriously.

“We see fish waiter, Aunt Ehwee.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Hi. I’m Ellen.”

“Fox Mulder.” They nodded and she looked him up and down, watching as he interacted with Emily.

Yeah… she liked this one.

“Where’s Dana?”

“Taking a bath. She should be out soon.”

“I’ll go see how she’s doing.”

She walked down the hall, a smile tugging at her lips. Knocking on the door, she stated it was her and she walked into the bathroom.

“Hey, how you feeling, hon?”

“Much better,” Scully said with a smile. “I suppose emptying my stomach of everything I’ve ever eaten helps a little.” She shook her head and sighed.

“Or the man down the hall, perhaps?”

“Ellen…”

“He stayed the night, Day. And it was just drinks?” She stared at her and Scully stared back.

“Maybe a bit more,” she admitted and Ellen nodded.

“Uh huh. Let me get you a towel.”

“Thank you again,” Scully said with a smile, wrapped in a warm fluffy robe, her hair still up from her bath. “You didn’t have to stay, but I’m thankful you did.”

“You’re welcome. And you don’t have to take me out to thank me this time.” He smiled and she looked at him.

“And if I wanted to?”

“Are you asking me out?” Mulder smirked at her, his expression suggestive.

“Or in, perhaps. Dinner? Here? This weekend?” He grinned and looked over at Emily playing with her blocks.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. It’s a date.”

“Yes,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek, his thumb stroking gently. “Yes it is.” He kissed her forehead and she sighed, her heart fluttering. “Feel better and let me know if I can bring anything to our dinner date.”

“I will.”

He said goodbye to Ellen and Emily and walked out the door. Scully let out a breath and grinned.

“Mmhmm,” Ellen hummed loudly from across the room and she turned to her, shaking her head with a smile she could not and would not keep hidden.

He walked up the front walkway carefully, mindful of the item in his hands and the many toys in his path. She had said he didn’t need to bring anything, but he knew there was one thing he needed to bring at least and he was excited to see the reaction to it.

Ringing the bell, he balanced it again and waited. Hearing fast little feet running toward the door, he grinned and squatted down, bracing himself, but wanting her to be the first one to see it.

The door opened and Emily stood before him, Scully beside her.

“Oh! Oh. So pretty. Fishie! Mommy see fishie? Guppy! Guppy fish!” She clapped her hands and then leaned forward to look closer at the fish in the small tank with a castle lid.

He had put in rainbow colored rocks, two green plants, and a teal colored betta fish.

Watching her face and the excitement upon it, he knew he’d made the right choice.

“Actually, my girl,” Scully said, squatting beside her. “That’s a betta fish. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Pretty betta fish. So pretty. Fish swim fast.” She looked at it from all sides, Mulder grinning as he watched her.

“Let’s let Mulder and the fishie come in and we can look at it more.” She stepped back and picked up Emily, allowing Mulder room to enter the house.

He stepped inside and walked to the kitchen, setting it on the counter. She placed Emily on a chair and stood beside her as she watched the fish swimming around the plants.

He smiled and looked at Scully, planning to make a comment about Emily’s excitement, but the words were never spoken as she grabbed his sweater and pulled his lips down to hers, kissing him firmly.

The shock of it caused him to freeze, but then he kissed her back, his heart pounding in his chest. Pulling back, he stared at her and she smiled, tugging at his sweater once more, kissing him again.

“Mommy! Fishie is so pretty.”

“Mmm, yes baby. It’s very pretty,” she said, her eyes on Mulder and not the fish. She grinned and he cleared his throat.

“So… I did good?” he teased and she laughed softly, letting go of his sweater and smoothing down the wrinkles she had made.

“I’d say so.”

“Good,” he responded, looping an arm around Emily’s middle to stop her from getting too close to the tank and falling off the counter. “I mean… I wasn’t sure when her birthday was so...”

“Oh it’s a birthday gift?”

“I like to cover all my bases.”

“Well, you’re a bit early. It’s not for a couple of months yet.”

“Hmm… then I’ll have to get something else when that time comes.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a smile, lacing her fingers with his other hand and squeezing. “Yes, I suppose you will.”

He grinned and squeezed back, falling further in love with her, if that was even possible.

#The X-Files #XF Fanfic #Fanfic Collab #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #Emily Sim #First Dates #Friendship #Taking Care of Each Other #Fever #Happiness

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