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theknightmarket · 4 months

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"I think this belongs to you."

In which Google and Bing experience some flaws in their code. Part 1 - Part 2 TW: cursing Pages: 22 - Words: 8000

[Requests: OPEN]

It was funny to realize Google had developed that classic android trait of ‘ew humans’. It was funnier to see happen in real time. You went from Titanic to The Shining to The Truman Show, before you ended on the Sound of Music. That last one was a treat for you, especially because you were hiding a pen at your side to mark on your arm the number of times Google grimaced in the course of the movie. It wasn’t hard to predict his distaste for musicals, which was half the reason you were tempted to show him the illegal ones filmed with a shaky phone and constant background chatter. The other half was because this was likely to be the last time you would spend quality time with him.

Sure, it was a little odd to call part of your job ‘quality time’, but you were enjoying yourself, and Google had yet to leave in a huff, so he couldn’t have been that off-put by random bursts of song. It gave a hint as to why you felt so bad when you saw the email notification pop up on your laptop just a couple hours after the quant movie festival.

You were finally doing the worst part of building anything electrical – transferring the sketchy code, with all its inside jokes and midnight ramblings, to the formal logs to send off to the company. Clean it up and stick it in a file, really, that was all you had been planning to do for the night, so that you could gradually wind down from the stress and excitement of the day. Plus, you needed a break from Google’s philosophical questions, and typing on your keyboard a toned-down version of what was already there was about as mind-numbing as it got.

And then, as the click of a square bracket showed the end of an instruction, the notification pulled itself out from the corner of your screen. You barely had time to read the address line before you paled, swallowed, and then promptly ran out the lab altogether.

Your mind was racing just as fast as you were. You swung yourself out the door and up the stairs, aiming for the bowl where your car keys were thrown every morning. You felt like you were going to have a heart attack. It ached like you were already going through one. How long did you have until it gave out? Minutes, seconds? Nothing registered until you were in the driver’s seat of your car, hands on the wheel and the keys jammed into the ignition, albeit untwisted. You weren’t planning to go anywhere. Where would you go? Where could you go where you could get away from the consequences of your actions?

In the end, you let your head fall to the top of the wheel and held it there while your shoulders slackened, and your breathing evened out.

You knew this was going to happen eventually. You had known since that first email the company had sent you.

Your time was up, and so was Google’s. With you, at least. You hadn’t read the full thing but there was no doubt that the email contained the dates he needed to be completely finished and polished by. Deadlines always made you feel queasy, but this made you feel sick to your stomach.

It only got worse when you returned to the lab after your little freak-out.

You had taken ten minutes by yourself to think it all through. You were alone, the car was quiet, you were protected by the metal casing from the reality of the situation. Still, you should have known that the android designed to care for people would be concerned by your rushing out of the house like a bat out of hell. Google didn’t have the mother-hen instincts that you had first assumed anything domestic would need – he had traded in the hushes and smiles for sarcasm and deadpans, instead – but that didn’t mean he was completely ambivalent about your state. If he wasn’t going to chase after you, then he was going to fix the problem at the source.

The door to your lab, which you had left open, teased you as you stumbled towards it. You weren’t at your best yet, and you had a moment wherein your vision swam and your throat went dry before you forced yourself down the stairs again.

Damn it.

Google stood right in front of your laptop, back facing to you and head fixed directly to the screen. Despite not having opened the email, it would take less than a literal super-computer to access it.

Tentatively, the softest you had ever spoken to him, you called out, “Hey, Google?”

You grimaced at your own voice, and then ever more so at the silence that followed. Did he have the ability to be angry? This was the most you had ever cared about another’s emotions, and you didn’t even know if he could have them.

“Google?” You stepped forward as you tried again, and then took another step when he stayed silent. “Are you back to shutting off?” Another step. “Look, I know the neighbors are loud, but Abigail is just a baby, and you’ll find out how hard they are to keep quiet…”

You regretted the joke the second it was past your lips. It both fell flat and reminded you exactly what you were worried about. You were just great at comforting people, weren’t you?

Now standing only a few feet away from Google now, you could feel something coming off him. You thought you imagined it until you stopped assuming the metaphorical; it was warmth. It was then that you noticed the whirring of his fans in his chest, ineffective if the heat streaming from his was anything to go by. The last time you had seen something like this was when you had first given him mobility in his legs, and he spent the first day and a half looping the lab’s tables and machines. You had been overjoyed back then.

You were plagued with regret.

“Eleven-fifteen, April 12th—” Google stayed perfectly still as he read out the email, “—‘Dear Chief Engineer, the android project has been arranged to be showcased at the Ladia Electronics Center on April 20th at four-thirty PM. Members of staff are due to retrieve the android project form your residence at twelve PM on April 15th, and we trust that everything will be in order by then. Sincerely, David Plymouth’.”

Well. You were right. It was the deadlines. But what could you do about it? Nothing. Nothing at all. You were helpless. Google spoke with such formality that, if you weren’t the one to build him, you would think he were running off a script. But you were the one to build him, and you knew that, beneath the metal faux skin, nestled in the wires and pumps and tubes, he was livid.

“Google, we’ve been over this,” you muttered. You wanted to sound confident, convincing, calculated, all the things you weren’t. “You were created to be a service android; they’re going to want to show you off to potential buyers of investors. I, I can’t do anything about it.”

The word service left a sour taste in your mouth, because he wasn’t just some microwave or vacuum cleaner. He was alive. It was your mistake, but you couldn’t change it now.

Even as your throat tightened, as if to strangle itself so the words wouldn’t get out, you kept talking. “It’s either I let you go, or I blow off an insanely powerful company, one that could easily get me arrested for breach of contract and take you anyway.”

He still wasn’t talking – why wasn’t he talking? He was capable of speech, he was just being petty. When he couldn’t form a word, he was more responsive. You hated this. The feeling of disappointing someone you cared about was exactly why you went into robotics in the first place, and then you’d taken the stupid job of creating an entire person, with all those feelings that you hated. You regretted it. If you were able to go back, you would have trashed the email and blocked the number immediately.

Except you wouldn’t. Obviously. Google was the best thing that you had ever made, that had ever happened to you. You wouldn’t give him up for the world.

You just had to convince yourself and him that you weren’t giving him up.

“Why don’t you want to go?” you asked. “It’s just one afternoon.”

Silence. The air was stifling, and the room was closing in.

“Hey, I know you can talk now, so give me an answer.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Finally. You sighed in relief, unaware of yourself as you moved beside him. From there, you could see his eyes better. They were transfixed on yours, those blues the same shade as everything else about him. So robotic, and yet so vibrant.

“Why not?” It was easier to be reassuring when you were face to face. “I know it’s not going to be fun, but it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Your prime instruction allows me to deny any other instructions that I do not want to follow.”

As proud as you were of him for figuring out the concept of want, this was an inopportune moment, and for all your preaching of his freedom to choose, everything was falling down around you now that neither of you could.

“I know, but not without explanation, I…” You felt something snap within you as you averted your eyes. Immediately, everything went out of focus, and your thoughts took over. Google stayed watching you, never moving, never blinking, never removing his attention. “Google, you’re going to have to go eventually.”

Permanently. That was the word that chocked you in your throat. A hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing with a vengeance, like it was your fault. Was it your fault?

“I am aware,” came the response, slow and steady, “but, and I apologize if this is inappropriate, please, do not let them take me, for now, at least.”

His tone shattered your heart; if you had been told an hour before this moment that the sarcastic, teasing android who would sigh and roll his eyes if you were drowning, would ever say please, you would have asked if you were talking about the same guy. And yet, there he stood, close enough that you could wrap your arms around him for comfort, hesitant desperation coating everything.

“I’ll try.”

His eyes softened, you could have sworn you saw the edge of his mouth twitch upwards for the briefest second, but the fans in his chest still whirred as if they were tasked with cooling hell. In fact, they seemed to pick up in speed.

Gently, you patted his arm. “We need to get you checked out.”

He nodded. You swallowed. The pair of you assumed your positions at your desk.

You promised that you would try.

But apparently you didn’t try hard enough.

“With all due respect, the robot is a robot, it can’t think for itself or make decisions.”

Every time you thought it was as bad as it could get, it got worse, and every time you thought it was the end, it started up again. You had responded to that email, went back and forth with the company, compensations, exchanges, bargains – at one point, you had lied to them that Google had a severe glitch in his system that made him unsafe to be around families, but they shot you down by pointing out that he’ll just be on show for the first few months. Now that the framework was complete, they could build the rest of the features into him with updates from a team of engineers.

They were taking Google and leaving you behind.

“It has no authority here, and, frankly, neither do you.”

The staff member that stood in front of you was pissing you off, plain and simple. She wore that classic, stuffy get-up of a black suit, sunglasses, and an earpiece – as if you needed any more reason to glare at both her and the rest of her posse as though they would keel over if you tried hard enough. The woman, presumably the leader, had already sent two of her colleagues down to your lab, while another two stood behind her. If they thought it was for her protection, they were damn right.

“How do I not have any authority? I built him!”

“Yes, and, as you can see, he has been built.”

Familiar clunky steps covered the sets that accompanied them. Google didn’t say anything as he was escorted to the door, but that didn’t make it any less painful. In fact, you would have preferred he did. You knew he should have been making snide remarks at someone, even if it was you. Instead, he stared at nothing in particular, mouth closed and marching forward like a toy that had been wound up at the back.

“That means that, really, you aren’t needed anymore,” the woman continued, ignorant to or uncaring of your disgust. “It’s fine, you can let him go.”

Your blood was boiling beneath your skin. Google and the men had gotten to the bottom of your driveway, where a white van was parked. Your body reacted automatically, and you were taking steps forward and out of the house before you could process it. The thing that stopped you was a hand on your upper arm. This was spitefully similar to a kidnapping, except you were watching it happen, and the victim wasn’t fighting back.

“And what happens,” you spat, “if he breaks, if he gets damaged or something goes wrong? Who are you gonna turn to then?”

A mocking smile crept onto her lips. “That’s why we have the code logs, isn’t it? Every detail is there, so if anything goes wrong, we’ll just check it.”

“And mess him up even more?” Just the thought of someone else getting their hands on Google’s wiring made your stomach churn and your fists clench. It had taken you months after he became conscious to get that far. You built up a relationship, you listened to him, you made sure to be safe and gentle. There was no way to make sure that the cold scientists he was going to be delivered to would pay attention to him.

But that was in the future. In that moment, you could only bargain.

“Why don’t you just bring him back after the conference and then I’ll be able to check him over?”

She didn’t respond immediately, and there was enough of a pause for you to catch Google’s look over his shoulder. It wasn’t long, and it was overshadowed by the sunlight framing the scene, but it was the first time you had met his eyes since those crooks had arrived. The pure panic would stay with you for the rest of your life. There was no anger, no sadness, just a fear that made your mouth go dry.

And you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The woman put her hand on your shoulder. You fought back the urge to snap her wrist.

“Look, I get it.” Her tone was a poisonous mixture of faux-comfort and smugness. “When I was younger, I had this pet gecko, and he lived on my bedside table. I took care of him like the son I never had.”

What the fuck?

“One day, I came home, and my parents were putting him in the wild because they didn’t think it was good for me to be so attached. And they were right. So, even though I was sad, I let them take it. And look at me now, I’m better than I was when I was a kid, right?”

Your only thought of ‘what the hell are you talking about and what substances have you taken today’ was translated to her as, “What’s your point?”

The gentleness fell out of her voice as quick as it had arrived. “Let us do our jobs, and let the damn robot go.”

The sliding door to the van slammed shut, followed by the opening and closing of the front doors. The other three that were left didn’t say a goodbye before they were walking to their own car, and, soon enough, you were the only one still standing on your doorstep.

You were alone.

Google was gone.

What were you supposed to do now?

You cried. For the next two weeks, you cried in every room of your house. The worst places were your bedroom and the lab, for obvious reasons, until it got to the point that you turned out the light, locked the door, and simply stopped going down those stairs. You didn’t have any work to do – getting the message from your bank to say that the payment had gone through made you dizzy with regret – so you had nothing to distract yourself with. You wandered through the halls of your empty home like a ghost.

Before the company had commissioned an android to be built, you had lived alone. Going from a college student who only just managed to take care of a Roomba to checking up on a whole fully functioning person was a drastic change, and so was returning to square one. Everything was so quiet. Google didn’t always talk, but there was a whirring that accompanied him wherever he went, and he had no chance of moving quietly with all the stuff packed in him. When he did voluntarily make noise, it was a sarcastic comment or a philosophical question that made you think about your own life. They were gone, and so was he.

It was weird to admit that you missed him.

You were sitting at your dining table, fiddling with a finance spreadsheet on your laptop, when the mail icon appeared at the side of your screen. Your hand sprang into action and made to close it, the wound from what happened before not fully healed yet, but you stopped when your curser was hovering over the ‘x’ button. It wasn’t from Google.

And yet the subject line was eerily similar to what had kicked everything off all those months ago.

Figuring you could deal with actual work later, you opened the email and skimmed the information. Time, sender and grammar all checked out, so it wasn’t a scam. That didn’t ease your nerves much, and you were left with furrowed eyebrows and heightened shoulders by the final signing off.

It seemed that Microsoft had caught wind of Google’s little project, and, instead of fruitlessly searching for another engineer who could construct an android to the same quality, they went straight to the original source; you. They offered a six-month deadline, free reign over your work, and a $400,000 payout. Still riding high from certain recent events, you would have needed half of that to start working. The only problem?

You would have rather gouged out your own eyes that go through the heartache again.

Two trains of thought ran through your mind as you sat at the table. On one hand, getting attached to another of your creations would put your mental health into the red. You would be risking your sanity and your happiness because there was no way mega-corporation would let you keep the android. You would just end up in the same place as you were now, sitting alone in an empty house. But, on the other hand…

Who said you had to get attached in the first place?

You got close to a cold and calculated bastard of a bot, so, in theory, if you did a 180 and went down a completely different design path, you shouldn’t run into a problem. The email didn’t specify a personality, and there would be no need for two sarcastic pricks on the market – said with the most affection in the world, of course.

Tentatively, you opened up a new model creator on your laptop with the plan in mind to screw around for an hour or two and see what came of your experimentation. If nothing worked, that was that; you would reject the offer and go about your wallowing in your misery. If something did crop up, you weren’t going to fight it.

You were almost disappointed in yourself at how quick the ideas came to you, but not as much as you were at how quick you actually built the android.

It took you half the time to get to where Google had been at the six-month mark. You reused most of the physical assets from before, the body-shape, the circuitry, all the diagrams that you had safely tucked in a draw were spread out like a nest on your lab’s desk. The difficult part was the personality, because you planned to take the completely opposite path than you had with your first. Google treasured logic? This one would take the fun routes. That single comment about not liking the Vans Triple Crown? You plugged his storage right into YouTube’s Top 30 Epic Skateboarding Tricks. You went so far as to challenge his color scheme so that not a single drop of a cold palette would be seen.

After the fact, when you were wiping iron filings off your gloves and splattering yourself with orange paint, you couldn’t recall a single thing you had done in the last three months. Everything was a blur, but you had the code sitting on your laptop, as well as a fully complete android in front of you to prove it had happened.

Bing was ready.

And the very next day, you were ready to show him the world.

That led you to the local skatepark. It had been a while since you had last stepped outside your house, and even longer for something other than groceries. You weren’t sure if the place was still open before you were walking with Bing down to the metal fencing, but the skidding of wheels and uproarious laughter of children assured you that you didn’t need to turn around in shame.

The android bounced on his heels as you looked around the park. There were plenty of ramps – all with a healthy collection of graffiti, as you had expected – and a few groups of youths hanging about. Hell, you saw what you were pretty sure was a six-year-old glide down a stretch of tarmac in front of an ambivalent junior. Aside from the fact that Bing was slightly jacked for a teenager, he was going to fit right in, so you pushed him towards the closest feature and scanned the edges.

You noticed a bench underneath the leaves of a larger tree, so you made that your base of operations while Bing had his fun. You didn’t know how to skate yourself, and you were more than content to do work in the background. The code wasn’t going to transfer itself, right?

Your hand stilled over the trackpad. Damn it.

No, it wasn’t going to turn out like last time. You weren’t going to get attached. You weren’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have been allowing yourself to continue the project. You pledged that the minute you started to feel close with Bing, you were going to pass him off to one of Microsoft’s internal engineers.

Your own thoughts made you grit your teeth. ‘Pass him off’, like a chore that you didn’t want to deal with, like a job? But he was a job. You were commissioned to build an android for a powerful company. You didn’t need to care about him.

But it had happened last time, and you didn’t realise it until it was too late. What was stopping you this time? Your flimsy boundaries that you were already running over with a tank?

You slammed your laptop shut. The snap made you wince.

Everything was fine. You were capable of fulfilling an order without getting off track.

“Yo!”

The yell came from the ramp some distance away from you, but you still had a clear line of sight to watch Bing rocket into the air. Panic flooded you, pushing you to your feet and propelling you forwards. He was going to crash against the tarmac, he was a two-hundred-pound man of literal metal, and he was in the air, and he was coming down, and you couldn’t stop him. You stumbled over a spare skateboard in your flurry to get closer, but it didn’t matter because, when you skidded to a stop, Bing was back on the ground.

What was it with robots and putting you into mortal peril?

A cheer erupted around you. Most of the kids you had seen in the skate park at the beginning had convened around the newcomer, including a group of eighth graders who dashed to meet him in the dip. They gestured to parts of the ramp, exchanged some skater jargon that you were not young enough to understand, and then they all backed away again. Bing was left there, staring at the opposing concrete with a determined expression.

Your heart picked up again as you realized his thought process, but you didn’t try to stop him. He wanted to do this, and you weren’t going to be the one to stop him.

He clambered up to the higher platform while the kids continued to watch on. You tapped your fingers at your elbow, a nervous habit you never seemed to crack, and thoughts ran rampant in your mind. None were helpful, so you ignored all of them and simply shifted your attention to the excited grin drawn across Bing’s face.

He was encouraged by the whoops and whistles of the spectators, but he took a few seconds to run some calculations in his head. He wasn’t an idiot, at least, not in this situation. He understood the risks and consequences of sending a heavy – and, not to brag, expensive – piece of machinery down an eight-foot half-pipe. If he didn’t protect himself and everyone around him, things had the chance of going south real quick. That, and you were watching. He couldn’t mess up in front of you! The whir of his internal fans reached his ears at the mere thought of failing at something he was built for while the one who had actually built him for it watched.

He had to get this perfect.

Bing took a step closer to the edge, eyeballed the distance, which, for an android, was correct down to the millimeter, and then propped the skateboard a quarter into the air.

One last look at you revealed your obvious trepidation, but there was also a layer of pride underneath.

He took an unnecessary breath in and out, and then dropped off the side.

When you had been programming Bing’s skills and personality and everything else about him, you went in with the idea of going completely against your instincts. Unfortunately, that also meant going completely out of your comfort zone, so a good majority of what the android did wasn’t anything you had intimate knowledge of, and – as much as you would have liked to beat the nerd stereotype – you knew absolutely nothing about skateboarding.

Hence why your jaw dropped to the ground when you saw Bing’s trick.

Hell, it was more than a trick; it was a performance. He tipped off the edge and, with more force than normal because of his whole being-a-block-of-metal thing, picked up a lot of speed, which let him fall into the dip of the ramp and shoot up the other side, barely giving enough time for him to become more than a blur of amber. When he was in the air, everything moved so fast that you didn’t see his hand wrap around the board and only processed his 360 spin and then the complete flip of that same board. In your mind, warning lights flashed, and sirens blared. That panic reemerged with a vengeance – until Bing caught your eye and winked at you before rocketing back down to the half-pipe and gliding gracefully onto the other side’s platform.

Luckily, the cheering of the kids was enough to cover up the vicious beat of your heart that was in no way tied to that sneaky wink and had all to do with the danger he was most definitely in.

Obviously.

“Your boyfriend’s real cool, dude.”

“What?”

The kid at your side, no older than twelve, nodded towards Bing, who was trying to perfect a kick-flip with the guidance of the bunch of gremlins that surrounded him. For a moment, you regretted not programming him the ability to blush because it would have made the image so much better. For now, you had to be content with Bing’s nervous grin, orange rings flitting back and forth between chattering children and trying not to accidentally break the board in half – not that this was that bad in the first place. You deserved it after the things he put you through.

You looked back at the kid, barely able to open your mouth to ask, “Wait, boyfriend—?” before your feet started moving on their own. Or, more accurately, two pairs of tiny hands wrapped around your wrists dragged you towards Bing, who looked just as surprised that you were getting closer as you were.

Another third grader tapped on his elbow, prompting him to lean down so they could whisper in his ear.

A feeling of acute dread settled in your stomach at his sudden and worryingly devious smile.

It only took you another two minutes to start screaming, and it wasn’t some dignified, heroic yell. No, it was very much a shriek that translated how much you thought you were going to die.

“Oh, my god, oh Jesus goddamn Christ!”

In context, it was even more pitiful. You were moving around 15 miles per hour in a straight line with Bing on the board behind you to hold your waist. You weren’t in danger, and, in theory, you knew that. The problem came with your inability to steer the damn thing, which intensified when your pseudo-instructor decided that now was the best time to hop off and let you go forward without him.

“Bing, I swear—!” You only restrained your language because there were kids around.

Bing didn’t let that dissuade him, and he wouldn’t let your fear discourage you, either, if his encouragements were anything to go by. “You got it!”

“No! No, I don’t!”

“Sure ya do!”

You sure did not, because you crashed right into a park garbage can, and you might have assumed that calling it a crash was an exaggeration. It was not. Your stomach was pressed into the metal top – slightly warmed by the sun – but your legs curled around, so you ended up sliding right off and into the tarmac, which was as equally hot as the can. Neither of them compared to the burn of your face, spreading down to your neck and up to your ears, that you hoped you could blame on the humidity.

After flipping onto your back in an attempt to lessen the contact between you and the ground, you preemptively squinted to block out the sun, but you were, instead, greeted by a cooling darkness.

A groan dragged itself out of your throat when you noticed the utterly smug smirk on Bing’s face.

“You good down there?”

“Shut up.”

He was laughing at your plight, but he put out a hand, nevertheless. You were more begrudging to take it, even though take it you did.

“This doesn’t make you cooler than me,” you muttered, swinging your legs around.

“’Course not.”

“Because you aren’t cooler than me.” You were about halfway up now, crouched but no longer feeling like select parts of your skin were on fire.

“Totally.”

One final tug had you pulled forward into Bing’s chest. Really, you had to stop colliding with stuff or you were going to look like you’d lost a paintball match, it was getting to be a bad habit, a truly serious problem, and you weren’t using the beratement as an excuse to not think about how close you were to Bing. The metal casing around his circuits wasn’t the superheated danger you imagined it would be, but then you heard the whirring of his fans beneath that shell. They seemed to be working overtime in the end of July weather, but you’d had far hotter days in the peak of summer. Were they malfunctioning? Distantly, a memory from months earlier knocked at the back of your mind.

However, had you looked up, you would have realized that the cooling system wasn’t having technical difficulties. You would have realized that Bing’s eyes were buffering, the orange rings dipping in and out of focus through his sunglasses, as he struggled to process the situation. You would have realized that the trouble came not with his body, but in his understanding of his body. He was stronger than he assumed, and he had put a bit too much force into pulling you to your feet.

It was in that moment, that both you and Bing had a similar epiphany.

This was bad.

“Comfy?”

“Genuinely, yeah.”

You hadn’t put much stock into that thought at the time. Instead, you had taken a step back from Bing, ignored his hands that stayed on your upper arms to make sure you were steady, and moved on. You left the skatepark with a wave to the kids, while he had taken a few seconds to promise to return. He seemed to have had fun, so you wouldn’t mind going back every week or so. When you had offered, Bing accepted with none-too-little excitement. It had put a smile on your face that lasted even to eight o’clock that night, when the temperature and the lights dimmed into a peaceful atmosphere.

With no other projects to occupy your time, you were able to take the night to relax, mold yourself into your sofa and get your mind off current events. And future events. And past events.

It was a good thing the old college game of throwing food into someone’s mouth and scoring points based on how close you got was the perfect way to forget yourself, for the time being. That meant you were leaned on the arm of the couch and Bing was at the other end, a bucket on the floor and a pile of popcorn in his hand, as well as the remains of everything that missed tucked into the divots of the cushions. His feet were propped up on your lap, a weight that should have been heavier than it was.

The TV had been on since you had flopped down, but you didn’t switch over the channels, so it was mostly an indistinguishable background to the chatter between you and Bing, whenever you weren’t chewing on a kernel.

You were in the process of swallowing one, because you didn’t want to just grossly spit it out, when you unintentionally picked up on a news report. Going from the teenage-dirtbag experience of your little game to listening to that, you froze and hoped beyond all hope that it wasn’t what you thought it was.

Out of the corner of your eye, a newsperson relayed the most important stories they could fish out for the day from behind a white desk. A shot of a skyline backdropped them as they read from the teleprompter behind the camera. All of that was what you expected. You did not expect to see your first ever android appear where the buildings had been in the background.

You adjusted to sit up straight and turn your body to the TV.

It had happened that very day, apparently, at a conference meant to showcase Google’s domestic abilities. Just that mental image made you internally scoff. You had programmed him the ability to cook, sure, but you weren’t about to be the one to test them out. He hated making a meal more than he hated cleaning, and even then, he had grumbled and groaned the one time you made wash the kitchen floors.

He had hated. He had hated making a meal.

Despite the distance put between you, both city-wise and time-wise, it appeared that little fact hadn’t changed, because the order to make a pot roast resulted in a broken cutting board, a smashed light fixture and two separate fires. The conference was cut short, obviously, and Google was returned to storage while representatives apologized to everyone present. Investors weren’t so forgiving, and neither were the press. Insults were tossed left and right, some of which made your brow furrow, especially those aimed at the programming.

Yet, with all that, you weren’t sympathetic. You weren’t even sad. You were split between vindicated and totally and utterly pissed. Had they listened to you, none of that would have ever happened – and, sure, it didn’t affect you anymore after the company stripped your name from everything and anything attached to Google, but you had made him, dammit! He was good. He had been good.

You were silent in your anger and pride, staring intently into the screen, before a piece of popcorn hit your cheek and you slowly turned to look at the offender.

“You made that old man?” he asked. The teasing came with a concerned tone.

“Oh, yeah, but that was months ago.”

You sat back into the couch, softness embracing you. It would have been a lie to say you didn’t miss him. Anytime that your thoughts wandered close to your memories of him, you threw a lasso around them and tugged them back. You took a risk going down to the lab at all, and, even though you hated the comparison, Bing was an android just the same as Google was. You had built both of them. Their personalities were miles different, but they were both yours.

“Are… are you okay?”

You blinked back to reality. The android actually present had taken his feet off your lap and moved closer. The gentle frown was not the first thing you noticed about his face; the lack of sunglasses covering his eyes was much more shocking.

You muttered back, “Of course, just, uh, thinking.”

Once more, the room fell into silence, besides the report that had moved on to the weather, but it lasted only a moment before Bing piped up again, “What’d he do?”

“What? Bing, he didn’t do anything.”

“But he’s not here anymore, so he must’ve done something.”

Maybe it was sweet for him to assume it was someone else’s fault, and you could have allowed him to believe it, but you knew the guilt would gnaw at your heart until you caved in.

“No, he didn’t,” you sighed, “I- I let him go. The commissioners wanted to store him in a warehouse for conferences, and I couldn’t say no to them. You’ll have to go, too, when your company wants you.”

The unspoken question hung in your mind; would you be able to handle it, when that time, as it surely would, came?

Bing didn’t seem too worried about it though. “Nuh-uh! I’ll just use my charisma and good looks to make them let me stay.”

He said it like it was the obvious solution, with so much confidence that it rivalled Lord Byron, and maybe even Microsoft. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him.

“You’re going to bat your eyelashes at the retrieval staff, and, what, seduce them into leaving empty-handed?”

“Bet.”

Sometimes, you regretted hooking him up to Urban Dictionary to save time.

“Or would you rather me leave the seducing for you?”

And sometimes, you really regretted it.

Your heart was going wild in your chest. It batted against your ribcage as though it were trying to escape a lion, but it would have jumped into the danger of the shark-like grin on Bing’s face. Still, it only sped up when one of his hands came up to rest on your waist and the other dragged up your arm.

Bing may have been the android, but you were the one who short-circuited.

Whatever coolness remained in you after that whole skateboarding debacle dissipated into the surroundings, because your eyes were wide, and your heart was pounding, and Bing was getting closer and—

And he was laughing.

He pushed himself back onto the arm of the couch and clapped his hands together, violent glee racking his body. “Ha, gottem!”

The blush didn’t die down on your face, even as you took deep breaths in and deep breaths out. Of course, they weren’t to calm down your embarrassment, they were actually to convince yourself that literally pulling the plug on a three-month long commission for a mega-corporation wasn’t a good idea.

Your mind still wasn’t made up when a knock sounded at the front door. Bing was plastered in the cushions, so you were free to answer it without him trying to act as an ineffective guard dog.

His call of, “I’m sorry!” was interrupted by more giggles.

Shaking your head, you added another factor to the ‘pros’ column as you pulled open the door.

“I think this belongs to you.”

You weren’t given enough time to process the view on your doorstep before a heavy weight was thrown into you. 200 pounds pressed against your front, which you struggled to pivot into the wall. When you were able to let go, though, all of the redness in your face drained out of it.

“Google?”

The android himself spared a pleasantly apathetic look down at you – one you recognised as being the happiest you had ever seen him in his time with you. What the hell had happened?

“Did you see the news?”

The voice, familiar enough to make your blood boil at the intonation of it, snatched your attention away to the sight of that woman from before, who wore the same black suit and sunglasses.

“Yeah, the conference—”

She cut you off, as if you needed another reason to hate her, “Was a complete failure because of some bug in its code that you’re responsible for.”

“How can I be responsible for something that I wasn’t given the chance to cause or fix?”

She stepped closer to you and through the doorway, and you could have sworn you felt Google tense up. “You’re the Chief Engineer, aren’t you? That means you’re in charge of the coding and- and whatever else goes on with that robot, right? And that means that its faults are your faults, too.”

You paused for the moment. You made no noise as you thought it through. You could have rolled over, could have nodded, said ‘yes, ma’am,’ and gone back inside the house, could have fixed Google up right as rain and then sent him off to the warehouse again. You should have let him go.

But you had already let him go once. You weren’t going to do it a second time.

“No, it doesn’t,” you stated roughly, “considering I haven’t spoken to anyone affiliated with Google in four months. In fact, I assumed this freelancing gig was over and done with.”

“Obviously, it isn’t, and we need you to sort out the robot before the conference next Tuesday.”

Oh, how kind of them to give you until Tuesday, when your calendar showed it to be a Sunday.

“There is no way I could figure out the problem and solve it in two days!”

“Oh, because you have anything else to do?”

“Hey, hey, hey—” In your brewing fight with the cliché of a super-agent, you hadn’t noticed the clunking steps of someone approaching, but you were proud to catch the slight look of confusion on Google’s face, “—chill it with the arguing.”

From around the corner, Bing swung into view. One of his hands grasped the border of the doorway to the living room, and his feet separated so that he filled more of the space. He reminded you of an owl puffing up to intimidate another bird.

The frown on Google’s face became more apparent as Bing spoke, “Look, lady, if the smartest person in the room says they can’t do it, then they can’t do it, ‘kay?”

The woman addressed you with stern distaste. “You made another one?”

“Yes, I did.” You leaned back so that she could see him better, and vice versa. “And this one was not commissioned with the laws of robotics in mind.”

In reality, you had made sure Bing didn’t have the ability to hurt anyone because you faced the very real risk of being arrested, but her paling face made the lie worth it.

“Is there anything else, or can I get to my work with a reasonable timeframe?”

Her eyes flitted behind you, but you didn’t pay much mind. You were too busy reveling in the panic you were causing – even if it was a tad mean – to notice what your boys were doing.

Bing was naturally a sweetheart; his guard dog attempts normally looked like a chihuahua who was biting off more than he could chew, and they never failed to make you smile. However, he was still a six-foot tall box of metal that was able to generate enough force to move a large truck. A lazy smirk and orange sunglasses weren’t going to easily distract from that, especially when he was purposefully showing off his teeth.

Google, on the other hand, maintained a threatening aura without having to be physically imposing. He looked much the same to Bing, but those factors were overshadowed by a glare that could make hell freeze over. A human body between him and a target was like putting a puddle in front of a raging wildfire, and his time at the warehouse had done him no favors. Any bartering for a sense of ethics or morality was better spent on dolphins.

You didn’t question why the woman was so quick to spit out an answer. “I can give you three days, then.” A glance over your right shoulder. “Four.” A glance over your left shoulder. “Five?” Her shivering gaze returned to yours. “A week, and that’s my final offer.”

“Alright, then, I’ll see you next week.”

And, just like that, she scuttled off to the white van that was waiting at the end of your driveway. You didn’t bother watching her drive away, and, instead, slammed the door shut and spun around to look at the now-two androids that stood in your home.

Bing was smiling brightly – not that you would have known he ever looked any different – and Google was as nonplussed as ever.

“Welcome home, Google.”

“It’s good to be back.”

Getting a hug would have been too much, and you knew that, but you assumed that was all you were going to get, a nice comment and the briefest twitch upwards of the corner of his lip. You weren’t even aware that a handshake was an option, but he definitely chose it.

Google’s hand was colder than you remembered, prompting you to briefly wonder how much the other engineers tampered with him before you brushed the question off in favor of tightening your grip. He nodded, and you nodded, both certain that this was the best outcome.

You parted slowly, and the warmth of a summer night swarmed your skin again.

“So, introductions are in order?” you asked. This wasn’t something you had prepared for, and you were already worried about how this would play out. With such drastic personality differences, there was bound to be friction. Hell, you had intentionally created Bing to be the opposite of Google, everything he…

Everything that he would hate.

As it turned out, spite always came back to bite you.

Still, you gestured to the orange android now stepping closer to lean against the wall next to you. “Google, meet Bing—” Your hand switched sides, “—Bing, this is Google.”

“’Suh, dude?”

Internally, you were screaming. Externally, you were waiting with bated breath. Neither were good sensations, and it only got worse in the seconds that were filled to the brim with tension.

Google didn’t say anything in response; he simply set his jaw, spared a glance towards you, and then promptly marched through to the living room, leaving you and Bing behind in more silence.

But he didn’t kill him, so you’d take it as a win for now!

“We can always try again in the morning.”

“Definitely,” oh, you knew that tone, “little Chief Engineer.”

And you were right.

“Shut up,” you huffed.

You smacked his arm, winced at the sting afterwards, and then dragged Bing back to the living room, the android laughing all the while.

If he was going to be like that, he was going to have to figure out there was only one recharge station himself, then who would be laughing? Although, you would undoubtably have to deal with a petulant Google in the morning, so, just maybe, it wouldn’t have been any of you.

But that didn’t mean you would stop smiling.

[What do you mean it's been a year since the first part of this? What, totally not, no... noooooo... totally not. Uh, anyway, thanks for reading?]

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gravehags · 3 months

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okay okay okay

expanding on your earlier post about Copia sending horny texts -

Copia and Curator!Reader phone sex when he’s on tour for the first time after they start dating 😌

oh god she would be so cruel with it too - texting him tasteful little hints of sexual photos all day when she knows he won't be able to do anything about it. as the day goes on the photos get more and more explicit until she's in his bed that night and sends him two words: call me. the phone rings shockingly fast and when she picks up he's already panting into the receiver. she teases him about getting started without her but no matter, the efficient little vibrator he left as a parting gift brings her up to speed. copia's in a hotel room - couldn't do this on the bus with so many prying ears - spread out on the bed nude and fisting his cock. he's spit into his hand countless times but nothing replicates the feeling of her slick clenching around him. he's praising her as she gives him breathy descriptions of what she's doing and how it makes her feel, constantly having to focus, focus on not losing control too soon. she asks how he liked her pictures and asks him to tell her what he thought about when he saw them. you, amore, he gasps, your sweet little cunt and how it looks clenched around my cock, around my fingers, around my tongue. the way your tits bounce when i fuck into you nice and deep like you like it, the sweet things you say to me when i make you feel good. she encourages him with breathy moans and praise, asking him to tell her what he's doing. fisting my cock, he pants, speed picking up. thinking of you riding me in this filthy little motel bed and letting the people next door hear how good i make you feel. his cock twitches when her moans begin to increase in pitch, and asks her to tell him what she's doing. got your vibe on my--fuck--my clit and m-my fingers inside me, fucking me. he smiles. how many? he asks. three, she whines, n-need it to feel like you--ah! he's close and he can tell she is too from the litany of profanity that falls from her lips. gonna cum for me, bellezza? he asks, hips fucking upwards into his fist. cum all over those pretty fingers for me, amore mio. i want to hear you. so she does as she's told, phone falling from where it's propped up on her shoulder as her fingers piston in and out of her and the vibrations on her clit have her bucking into his invisible touch. when a desperate "copia!" gets wrung out of her, he's gone, seed spurting onto his belly in ropes. all the other can hear on the line for a moment is hoarse panting. he knows when she whimpers, she's finally removed her fingers from her cunt and turned off the vibrator. amore, he murmurs, his finger dragging through the mess on his stomach, i miss you so much. his heart breaks when you let out a little sob. miss you too. wish i was there. he smiles. eh if you were here i wouldn't get any performing done. a beautiful distraction like you? fuck the rituals, i'd take you anyday. she laughs and the sound lightens his heart. yeah, she admits, it wouldn't be fair to the fans to bow out because of good pussy. now it's his turn to laugh. he gets up to clean himself off, putter around the room and watch a staticky version of die hard 2 on the old tv, all while keeping her on the line. when she stops responding to his running commentary, he knows she's fast asleep. he crawls under the covers and imagines her curled into his side, her fingers carding through his chest hair like she liked. he plugs his phone into the charger but doesn't hang up and as he falls asleep, he likes to think it's her breathing he hears and not the wheeze of the old air conditioning unit.

#THIS GOT OUT OF HAND BUT I LOVED THE PROMPT SO #curator reader series

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beholdthemem · 3 months

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Have you done the meme with RoseEddie? I feel like you did in the tags, but can't find it

If I have, I can't find it either, so we're doin it now! Thank you @sandpancakecat for indulging me (and for your patience when I disappear T-T)

(Meme in question)

Who...

-Said I love you first?

I'm gonna say Rose, actually! It happens during yet another fate-of-the-world-is-at-stake incident (such is the life of a superhero. The world can never just stay saved, can it?). Ordinarily that'd just be a Tuesday, but this time Eddie gets himself hurt. Bad. He and Rose are separated from the rest of the team, and he's losing so much blood, and Rose is furiously applying what limited first aid skills she knows just trying to keep him alive long enough for someone better at this to reach them, and God, how many times have they been here before?

She hates that this isn't the first time this has happened, and she's scared to death that it's going to be the last. Precognition means seeing every possible future, everything that COULD happen, with no way to know which will be the one to land. She hates that every fucking time Eddie's put his neck on the line for someone else, taken the shot trying to shield a teammate, gotten himself beaten, stabbed and broken taking on a threat he knows damn well is out of his weight class so some civilian who didn't evacuate in time can get away, she's seen a version of the world where he doesn't get back up. And what scares Rose this time is that she's seeing a lot of different futures where he dies from this. One where no one gets to them in time. One where help arrives, but by the time they've moved him, it's too late. One where he makes it long enough to die in a hospital bed, a few hours before dawn tomorrow.

"Don't you dare," she hisses, like he'd even know what she was talking about if he was lucid enough to hear her. "Don't you dare die on me, don't you FUCKING dare-"

She'd assumed the moisture on her face was sweat. It's not until her vision blurs that she realizes she's crying.

"You don't get to leave me here alone with these assholes and take the easy way out!" The smell of gasoline is choking her, his blood coating her hands, her uniform, the mask she'd taken off as a makeshift rag to staunch the wounds. "You're the only reason I came back, you can't just fucking die now..."

She hears her voice crack, and hates herself for it.

"You can't die," she's never begged anyone for anything, but she is right now. "Goddammit, I love you, you can't leave me too-"

For a split second, she thinks she sees him make eye contact with her, a hint of recognition there. And then she hears a yell from afar as one of their useless fucking teammates finally shows up to provide some help.

-Would have the other's picture as their phone background?

Eddie has this one photo of Rose that he's kept on his phone in secret for forever. She's mid sentence, talking to this little civilian girl who she's got balanced on her hip, busily telling the kid a story to keep her distracted while somebody else finds the parent she'd gotten separated from during H.I.V.E's attack earlier. The girl is laughing for the first time since they'd found her, accidentally pulling Rose's hair a little while trying to keep her grip in Rose's arms. Rose hadn't even flinched.

As far as Eddie knows, nobody else has ever seen Rose like that- gentle, reassuring, silly. It wasn't done for him to see, but... she didn't hide or downplay it while he was there. Like it wasn't done for him to see, but it was still okay that he saw it. He doubts Robin or Cassie would've believed her capable- they'd left him in charge of the sobbing little girl while they did search and rescue, as if his only child ass had the slightest clue what to do. Thank fuck Rose had been there to scoop her up, whispering whatever mysterious things one said to crying children to calm them down, and effectively saving the day as far as he was concerned.

As soon as Eddie is provided with the slightest inkling that Rose actually likes him back, he makes that photo his phone background.

-Leaves notes written in the fog on the bathroom mirror?

Eddie. Every time.

-Buys each other cheesy gifts?

When they actually start dating, they both do this purely to affectionately annoy each other. If you'd told Eddie back in the early days of his crush on the cool, scary, acid-tongued sword girl that he would one day be buying her a stuffed bear holding out a felt rose and not getting his head ripped off for insolence, he would've accused you of making fun of him.

-Initiated the first kiss?

Rose, during a period of time when Eddie had lost his powers and was feeling particularly useless. Done right after suggesting that there might be advantages to being a normal squishy human, too.

-Kisses the other awake in the morning?

Rose, because she's the kind of person who gets up disgustingly early every day. VOLUNTARILY. This way of life is foreign to Eddie, and he has to be effectively bribed back into the waking world with caffeine, kisses, or Rose's very excited pitbull. She's only willing to keep the dog out of the room until 8:30.

-Asks the other if they can join them in the shower?

ROSE.

-Surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch?

In a world where they both live long enough to age out of Titans and become independent heroes with Responsible Adult Day Jobs, I think they would both do that! Eddie would just walk in to bring it to Rose without trying to hide from her coworkers, Rose would sneak in and sneak up behind him to be like 'Hey, time for a lunch break' and scare the shit out of him before he realizes it's her. Why does she insist on doing this? No one knows. Possibly she just enjoys being a little shit, or maybe she just finds his coworkers annoying. Even with enough time and therapy to be semi well adjusted, her list of Peers I Actually Like can still be counted on one hand, with Eddie at the top of the list.

-Was nervous and shy on the first date?

Unexpectedly... Rose. At least, slightly more so than Eddie (Cuz you know he was nervous too). She covered it well, nobody else would've clocked that she was anxious, but the truth is she never really... well, she never really got to do stuff like this. She didn't have a normal adolescence, so she never got to do the clumsy first-crush first-date thing most people her age practiced with. All of her relationships have been based mostly on physical stuff with some feelings occasionally thrown in, she's never had the go-out-together-in-public and be courted version. She'd dryly come to the conclusion that she's just not that kind of girl. Now that the opportunity is being presented, though, she's realizing that maybe it'd be nice to be that kind of girl. At the very least, it's nice to have the option. She has no idea what she's doing but she really, really wants this to work.

-Kills/takes out the spiders?

Rose! Eddie pretends the reason he doesn't try to take them out is because with his body temperature he'd end up roasting them instead of helping. The truth is they just freak him out. Rose is fully aware of this and teases him about it, but removes the spiders anyway.

-Loudly proclaims their love when they're drunk?

Eddie. He has serenaded her before. He just loses all his filter of what is or is not corny when he's drunk and must communicate to Rose in every way possible that he's nuts about her. Rose tells him this is the sappiest bullshit she's ever heard but doesn't actually stop him.

#rose wilson #eddie bloomberg #ravager #kid devil #red devil

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jigujellee · 3 years

Text

AS LONG AS IT TAKES YOU -> how long will it take rosé to finally realize that protecting what you two have will only end up hurting the both of you in the end? [ request: pls do a rosé imagine where she keeps rejecting the reader then the reader just gets tired of her one day bc rosé kind of crossed the line with her words or sumn. nndjsiww i am a wh0re for these kind of stories and i haven't rlly seen any rosé version of this. happy ending for the reader tho,,, tysm ]

rosé x reader mainly angst?? (squint for fluff at the end) word count: 2.9k warnings: a bit of swearing but nothing excessive

a/n: even though my requests are closed, i really wanted to try this out. i'm fairly happy with it, i just think i need to work on my pacing hehe i also wanted to point out that i got the 5 times to ask you out thing from hospital playlist bc i thought it was cute. and yes, covid is present in this story but let's pretend it's not that bad. anyways, i hope you enjoy! (also i swear i'll write for other members/idols soon)

(please note that requests are still CLOSED for the time being)

your crush on chaeyoung wasn’t a secret to anyone. you knew you liked the blonde ever since she let you borrow her pororo eraser back in 1st grade, but what you didn’t know was that she also had feelings for you.

it was hard for chaeyoung not to fall in love with your smile, your touch, or with the way you remembered every little detail about her. however, she decided to keep her feelings to herself because she didn’t want to fuck up the friendship. she would rather keep what you two have now than take the risk of losing you completely.

which is why chaeyoung is staring at you in confusion and disbelief right now, because after nearly a decade, this is the first time you’re actually doing something about your feelings for her.

“you’re asking me out?”

“yeah, i want to take you to a movie and then grab dinner after. when are you free?”

despite knowing about your feelings for her, chaeyoung never knew how to respond to them.

“so we’re just like, hanging out right?”

“well, i saw it more like a date but if that’s how you see it, then that’s fine too i guess,” you replied with a hint of sadness in your voice, something that chaeyoung notices but chooses to ignore.

“then yeah, i can do tomorrow after school. meet me at the gates?”

“see you then chae”

---

you can’t really complain about the “date” being terrible because it wasn’t. everything went pretty smoothly but you just wished you could’ve held her hand or fed her some food like other couples were doing at the restaurant. however, you didn’t want chaeyoung to feel uncomfortable, so you refrained from initiating any type of contact.

after dinner, you walked chaeyoung to her doorstep to say goodnight.

“i had a lot of fun y/n, thank you for this”

“no worries. you think we could do this again sometime?”

“of course”, chaeyoung giggled. “you don’t have to ask me to hang out you know”

“no chae, i want it to be like a date instead of us hanging out. you know, like holding your hand and that kinda thing” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

chaeyoung opened her mouth to say something but closed it right after. what should she say to that? why should we ruin what we have? things are fine the way they are, chaeyoung thought.

instead of replying to what you said, chaeyoung embraces you in a hug and wishes you goodnight before entering her home. you watched as the door closed before letting out a sigh.

you were determined to win chaeyoung over and told yourself you will do whatever it takes. you quickly pulled out your phone to call chaeyoung, and she answered while looking out her window to see you still on her driveway.

“y/n, are you okay? why are you-”

“i��m going to ask you out 5 times. i’ll count this date as the first one, so i really only have 4 chances left,” you declared, staring right at her from where you stood.

chaeyoung always admired your determination but she knew this would end up hurting you in the long run.

“you know i’m probably just gonna say no each time, right?”

“you never know. just give me a chance chae”

chaeyoung lets out a defeated sigh. “good luck”, she says before hanging up. with the green light to continue asking her out, you start making your way home while strategically thinking about what your next move was.

---

chaeyoung hasn’t heard from you since that night, so she started to wonder whether you had already given up. she knew that was very unlike you and that was soon proved when you showed up behind her locker door with two tickets in your hand, which ended up startling chaeyoung a bit.

“jesus, can’t you say hi or hello like a normal person?”

smiling, you say “lany is playing this weekend and keshi is opening. you love lany and i love keshi, so this is perfect”

“sorry y/n, but i have an event with the church that day. i’m sure someone else would love to go though”

“i thought the church cancelled that event because someone caught covid?”

shit that's right, it was broadcasted on the news that the event was cancelled, chaeyoung thought. she wasn’t really the best liar, and the fact that you could see right through her lies doesn’t really help.

“oh yes, that’s right, but um, my mom asked me to help her with something anyway. really sorry y/n”, chaeyoung hurriedly says before proceeding to her next class.

before you start heading to your own class, she calls on you and you turn your head.

“you still have 3 tries” she says with a smile before finally leaving your sight. your lips slightly turned upwards at what seems like an attempt to make you feel better.

but the next two tries were equally unsuccessful. after the tickets, you managed to get her a box of baked goods from the new bakery that everyone has been talking about. while it was a bit of a weaker try compared to the concert tickets, you thought it was worth a shot but she still turned you down. then, you tried making her a playlist with the song titles listed in the order of “will you go out with me”, but chaeyoung didn’t even notice it until you pointed it out.

you only had one chance left but you’re confident that this will definitely be the one to win her over.

in your hand, you held john mayer’s prs silver sky guitar in pink. you knew how much she loved the colour pink, and after listening to her sing slow dancing in a burning room when you went over to her place, you thought this guitar was the perfect gift for her. after days and nights of constant researching and messaging a bunch of different people, you managed to get your hands on one that even happened to be signed by john mayer himself.

you couldn’t wait to give it to her after school so you hid it in your locker for the majority of the day, making sure it stays safe. as the bell rang for lunch, you made your way towards chaeyoung to drag her to your locker and show her the gift, but you caught her with her three best friends jisoo, jennie, and lisa. you hid behind the vending machine in an attempt to surprise her, but you ended up eavesdropping on their conversation. what you heard next was completely uncalled for.

“how many times has y/n asked you out? and why won’t you just say yes already?” jennie asked.

“yeah, look at all the things she’s done for you. and even after turning her down so many times, she still hasn’t given up” jisoo added.

“it’s really nothing, she’s just being nice”

“being nice? chaeng, you know she likes you, hell everyone knows. she’s had the biggest crush on you since elementary school!” lisa pointed out while jisoo and jennie nodded their heads, agreeing with their youngest friend.

“look, it’s just, i don’t know, kind of annoying okay? all these gifts and gestures, it’s too much. I never asked for any of these. i could’ve easily gotten concert tickets or baked treats myself. it’s just i’ve never seen someone so clingy and so desperate to be with-”

“then why didn’t you just say that?” you came out from behind the vending machine, trying to fight the tears forming in your eyes. jisoo, jennie, and lisa all backed away to give you and chaeyoung some space.

when she turned around and looked at you, a mixture of regret and guilt was painted all over her face.

“you knew i liked you from the very beginning and you knew that i was going to ask you out 5 times. if you really didn’t want it, then why didn’t you say anything?”

“i knew you weren’t gonna take no for-”

“so now you get to call me clingy and desperate? i would’ve stopped if you just told me upfront chaeyoung” there was so much hurt and anger evident in your voice. before chaeyoung could even say anything, you ran the other way, wanting to get as far away from her as possible.

chaeyoung wished you didn’t have to hear what she said, because all of it was a lie and she knew that. she knew she liked you, she liked you so damn much it killed her to keep rejecting you. her decision of wanting to maintain the friendship just so she doesn’t have to lose you backfired on her and her biggest fear came true - she ended up losing you anyway.

---

you distanced yourself from anyone and everyone since you heard what chaeyoung had to say about you asking her out. your family and friends were calling and texting nonstop just to make sure you were alive, but you didn’t even bother replying to them and left them on read, still giving them some indication that you were in fact alive. you didn’t want anyone around you, not now and not for a while.

as you lay in the comfort of your bed, surrounded by darkness and the sound of rain hitting the window, you stare up at the ceiling and let the words “clingy and desperate” echo through your head. it still stung each time you thought about it. has chaeyoung felt like this the whole time? have i been nothing but a burden to her these past few weeks? these few years?

your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of your own stomach growling. picking up your phone, it was already 12:45 and you haven’t even gotten out of bed yet. finally, you get up and the first thing you see is the guitar you were supposed to give chaeyoung that day.

“what a waste”, you groan before getting out of bed.

as you cook a pack of ramen, this one probably being the 6th pack in 2 days, your phone continues to vibrate. and most of the notifications are from the person you don’t want to hear from right now.

chaeyoung <3: y/n, have you eaten?

chaeyoung <3: please pick up

chaeyoung <3: even if you leave me on read, i just need to know you’re there please

chaeyoung <3: i’m really sorry y/n, can we please talk?

22 missed calls from chaeyoung <3

and i'm the clingy and desperate one, you thought.

little did you know that chaeyoung wasn’t doing the best either. she can’t remember the last time she ate a proper meal, and the bags under her eyes are becoming darker and much more prominent as time passes by. jisoo, jennie, and lisa have dropped by numerous times to check on her and tried to get her to eat, but all she cared about was trying to get a response from you.

the next day at school, students were looking at chaeyoung as she walked through the halls because well, she really looked like shit which is very unusual for her. but she didn’t care about any of that, what she was focused on was trying to find you. instead, she finds your best friend and musters up the courage to go up to her and ask about you.

“hi”, chaeyoung starts quietly. “um, you’re y/n’s best friend right?”

“hi, yes! i’m jihan. you must be chaeyoung!”, she smiled. her energy was something else despite it being a rainy monday morning.

“yeah, i was just wondering if you knew if she’s coming today? and if she’s alright?”

jihan’s smile slightly faded but it was still present.

“y/n’s not coming today, she said she doesn’t feel well”

“has she been eating?”

“i haven’t been able to see her in a while. she’s shutting everyone out, so i don’t think she wants anyone near her for the time being. sorry chaeyoung”, jihan sends an apologetic smile towards the girl.

“thank you. but um, you don’t hate me or anything?”

“what happened between you and y/n shouldn’t affect the way i see you. you’ve always been such a nice girl, so just because something happened between you and my best friend doesn’t mean i see you any different. yeah, you hurt y/n, but i know you’ll do what you can to make it right again because that’s the type of person you are” jihan says, before getting up to go to her homeroom.

chaeyoung started making her way to class and thought about what jihan said. while it cheered her up a little bit, she was still concerned about you. you were shutting everyone out, including your own best friend, so it was clear that you weren’t doing well and chaeyoung only blamed herself for your behaviour. but jihan was right, chaeyoung was gonna do what she could to fix things between you and her.

---

you finally decide to show up to school after a few days, but your state hasn’t improved one bit. if people thought chaeyoung looked bad, you definitely looked worse. your hair was tied into what looked like the messiest bun known to mankind (or was it a half ponytail? no one could tell), your eyes still puffy from all the crying you’ve done the previous nights, and the circles underneath them making it worse. jihan looked at you with sadness in her eyes knowing that even her energetic self couldn’t do anything to cheer you up.

“have you eaten breakfast y/n?”

“no, i’m still full from the ramen i ate last night”

“exactly how many ramen packs have you eaten these last few days?”

“let’s just say i need to restock on ramen this week,” you chuckled to yourself. jihan knew that making jokes is the only way for you to cope whenever you felt upset, so she just smiled along.

other than your teachers constantly asking you if you were okay and suggesting a visit to the nurse’s office, the day goes by fairly smoothly. you haven’t seen chaeyoung all day, which is a relief because the last thing you need is to start crying during school.

when you open your locker to grab your coat and umbrella to go home, your phone vibrates. you roll your eyes at the contact name but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about what she sent. you grab your things and make your way to the bus stop when you finally open the message.

chaeyoung <3: as long as it takes you, open.spotify.com

you took out your airpods and clicked on the link to listen to keshi’s amazing voice.

baby i’ll be

waiting here for

you to change your mind

i’ll be here as long as it takes you

so this is it

i never thought that you would

take your things and leave

i must admit

i’ve been a mess since then

i need you here with…

as the song continued to play, you received another thread of texts from chaeyoung.

chaeyoung <3: i know you love this song, it’s one of your favourites

chaeyoung: <3: i can’t help but think that this is how you felt the whole time while you were trying to ask me out

chaeyoung <3: and i’m sorry i didn’t say anything sooner

chaeyoung <3: i really am a mess without you y/n

chaeyoung <3: look up please

you failed to notice a red, teary eyed girl holding her phone right in front of you while being drenched in the rain. you pulled her into the waiting shed with you, but she was far too soaked already. then, you took off your own coat to wrap around her so she wouldn’t get cold.

“what the hell are you doing standing out there with no coat or umbrella?”

“i love you,” she finally cries out. now it was your turn to look at her in confusion.

“i’ve always loved you y/n..”

“so why reject me all this time?”

“because i was afraid of risking what we have now! i was afraid that i would lose you if something were to happen to us, that i’d lose my friend altogether. but i actually did lose you because of some dumb shit that i said, which wasn’t true at all. you’re not clingy or desperate, you’re none of that and i wish i didn’t say it, and i’m just so god damn sorry y/n!” chaeyoung cried, her face stained with both tears and raindrops falling from her head.

before you could say anything, chaeyoung places a finger on your mouth and continues.

“i’m going to make it up to you y/n. i’m going to ask you for forgiveness 5 times, no, 10 times, and if you still won’t forgive me then, i’ll disappear from your life forever!” she practically screams, causing people around you to look in your direction.

when you think chaeyoung is finally done speaking, you pull her into a hug, not caring if she was still wet from the rain. while it would take some time to fully forgive her, you were just happy that you had your friend back and that one day, you’ll be able to try and ask her out again. you pulled back slightly to look at her before wiping her tears (and/or rain, you couldn’t tell).

“that counts as the first one. you have nine chances left,” you say smiling, watching chaeyoung’s own smile grow on her face as she pulls you in for another hug.

#kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios #gg scenarios #blackpink scenarios #blackpink imagines #rosé #rosé scenarios #rosé angst #rosé fluff #rosé x reader #park chaeyoung

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hozierandco · 3 years

Text

Callum Turner x Reader - After-match, Part One (smut)

A/N: Since I'm very much obsessed with Callum Turner at the moment, I felt it was only fair I give it a go. It gets smutty towards the end, announcing a second part that will be extremely smutty. Read at your own risk.

When Callum's favourite football team is qualified for the final, Y/N has an idea in mind for the after-match. For obvious reasons, set before Covid.

"Chelsea qualified for the Final!", Callum shouted with a large grin on his lips and a tear hanging "Chelsea's in final!"

On the other side of the apartment they shared was Y/N who was watching Vikings on her computer. She shut down the laptop and reached out for her boyfriend of two years, throwing herself in his arms "Yeah! Good job! I'm sure you screaming for most of the game has something to do with it"

"Hey! For once, it's not you who's screaming!" Callum smiled with an even bigger smile, proudly exhibiting his teeth. He plucked Y/N off the floor and kissed her while she was still in his embrace "They're going to that bloody final!"

Y/N who could not resist her boyfriend's smile, joined in and together they started singing Three Lions.

There were four days until the final since the other team still had to get qualified. Although Y/N was not much of a football supporter, when a competition was on, she could not do any other way than to hear about it.

Callum was passionate to say the least. Chelsea in the final of the Premier League was absorbing all his energy. It was a miracle he was in London for it and not on yet another set. Y/N wanted her beau all for herself but a round ball was in the way and she could not compete. Or maybe she could?

Tottenham Hotspur would fight against Chelsea. Callum was more than excited at the idea of such a great game. An ecstatic Callum was even sexier than the usual version of him, which was already pretty damn irresistible.

But anytime Y/N teased Callum, hinting at the fact that he could take care of her, there was a notification popping on his phone: "Harry Kane hurt during training, could remain on the touch", "According to specialists, could be the greatest game of the season", "Bet on Upcoming Games", which distracted him from her.

Callum had been invited by a friend to see the game and eat pizza at his. In the meantime, Y/N would have a night out with the girls.

As Callum was about to leave on the night of the game with a pack of lager, Y/N stopped him as he passed the bedroom. Her too was close to leave and was finishing her makeup as her lipstick was in her hand.

"Hey! You were not going to leave without telling me goodbye, were you?"

"Fuck! You look gorgeous in that dress!", he nearly dropped the beers when he saw Y/N in a black dress made of velvet. The fabric was stroking her lines whereas the tiny straps showed her soft arms.

"I have a deal for you", Y/N offered as she drew a wave of red on her upper lip.

"Oh yeah?" Callum asked playfully as he grasped her hip with the hand that was empty, to have her closer to him. He was only a few inches of fabric away from her nudity and had to fight his urge to remove her dress.

Y/N came even closer as she whispered in his ear "If Tottenham wins, I get to do anything I want with you tonight. But if it's Chelsea, then I'll let you do anything" She went back to seeing him eye to eye "Deal?"

"That doesn't sound fair"

"No?"

"No... I mean you know nothing about football.. With Kane down, Chelsea stands its chance of winning"

"Who said I didn't want Chelsea to win?"

Callum held back a noise that got stuck in his throat and that ressembled an animalistic growl.

"Y/N... I swear if I wasn't already late, I would have ruined that dress of yours by now"

Y/N smiled and for sole answer kissed Callum on the cheek. Callum's phone buzzed to signal him his cab had arrived.

"I'll see you later, baby!", Callum said on the threshold, ready to hurtle down the stairs.

"Can't wait!"

Callum took the cab he had booked towards Islington where his friend lived. It was not until he was seated in the back that he felt a slight discomfort in the region of his crotch. That bloody dress, he thought to himself, hoping his erection would disappear by the end of the journey.

***

"Hi!", Melina, Y/N's colleague cried when the latter arrived at the pub.

The parvis in front of the establishment was packed with supporters who in turns had Tottenham's or Chelsea's scarves.

"Hey! How you're doing? Do you think we could go somewhere less crowded?"

"Are you kidding? It's the final. Anywhere we'll go, it's gonna be like that!", Melina had raised her voice to be heard.

"... At least here they serve a great fish'n'chips", Charlotte added.

Well at least she would know her fate for the rest of the night.

In Islington, Callum arrived. The commentators were already getting excited on the telly as Callum could hear from the threshold.

Callum hugged everyone there after he had set the beers on the table. Amongst them were comedians that he had met during film festivals but had not seen in years.

If the whole friend group was loud at first, making small talk and helping themselves to pizza, when the anthem started, they all got quiet.

The pub too went silent. In both the pub and at Callum's reunion, everyone had their hand on their bosom and sang along the players and the stands.

"Welcome everyone! The game starts now!", one commentator explained.

The defence was good on both sides and the tension began growing.

One missed opportunity for Chelsea later, Y/N received a text.

Cal, 9.14 pm: It's gonna be a long night Y/N, 9.16 pm: You have no idea!

Then, the release came.

Callum and his friends echoed the neighbourhood's screams.

"It's a goal for Chelsea!", the commentator exulted in the back though no one was paying attention to him, too busy celebrating the action.

"We'll be back after the break"

Cal, 9.53 pm: You can already take your underwear off. It's coming home, baby!

Y/N, 9.54 pm: Don't wear any...

Callum nearly choked on a slice of pizza when reading his girl's text. It would indeed be a long night.

The game was on again. Was it the excitement winning the crowd over or the humiliation of the goal they could not have stopped but Tottenham marked only seven minutes later.

Y/N, 10.11 pm: Looks like you'll be all mine tonight after all!

Cal, 10.14 pm: Ain't I always?

Y/N was now fully engrossed in the game, on the edge of her seat, careful as not to miss anything from her chosen team.

"You've kept your cards close to your chest. You're into football after all, huh?" Carey, a friend from college teased Y/N.

"Cal and I have a bet for tonight. My life depends on it"

The six friends laughed at the remark.

A session of penalty shoot-out had been whistled by the referee to settle a final result.

Cal, 10.51 pm: Good luck, baby! Y/N, 10. 51 pm: To you too, Cal!

The situation was excruciating. All the attendees in the bar were biting their nails. Callum and his friends had stopped drinking and in fact were competing as to know would hold their breath for the longest time.

The very last shot was for Eden Hazard, on Chelsea's side. If he marked, Y/N would have to surrender to Callum's fantasies. But if he missed the net, she could put to the test all the scenarios she had in her mind for the past few days.

Eden Hazard advanced on the penalty area, breathing in and out. Y/N breathed in and out too. Callum had won the breath-holding contest.

A few seconds later, the referee whistled the end of the game, making cheerful and despondent people in the audience.

#one-shot #well more like a two-shot I guess #callum turner #callum turner x reader #smut #not me being obsessed with another British actor #football as a mean to introduce some smutty material #theseus scamander #enough with the hashtag

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realllllfangirllllll · 3 years

Text

{SF9 Reaction} They get jealous of you fangirling at another group.

Kingdom Edition

{Requested by anon}

SF9 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(Disclaimer: I kinda wrote mini scenarios for each of them b/c I love this concept so much ashfdgkkjs)

Youngbin

The two of you were pretty transparent with each other in the relationship so he knew you stanned many other groups besides his own. Nothing really bothered him, but that was until he joined Kingdom. While the two of you sat on your couch, cuddled against each other to rewatch the pilot episode, you kept commenting on Bang Chan’s performance and how he had such great leadership skills. Youngbin felt himself get jealous especially when the topic of leadership was brought up. He tried his best to conceal his expression so he raised his other hand that wasn’t wrapped around your waist to the side of his face. You noticed his behavior and immediately thought of a mischievous plan. After all, it wasn’t everyday that you saw your calm and composed boyfriend on the verge of breaking down from jealousy. You purposely escalated your fangirling on Bang Chan until Bin couldn’t contain his composure anymore and he unwinded his arm around your waist, got up, and stood in front of your view. You suppressed your laughter as you moved your head around in an attempt to watch the tv but he wasn’t impressed. His entire body moved along with wherever you moved and you ended up bursting out into giggles. You grabbed his waist to still him but he didn’t budge. “Kitten, I’m not going to stop until you praise me like you did with Bang Chan,” Youngbin said in a bitter tone. You stopped giggling and stood on the couch to match his height. Out of the blue, you showered his sour face with kisses and his expression immediately shifted into his signature eye smile. You pulled back and said sweetly, “How about I give you kisses instead?”

Inseong

Inseong just got back from his shooting for Kingdom and you welcomed him with your arms and wide opened for a hug. He always loved when you gave him a long, warm hug after a day of tiring work but today, he was a lot clingier than usual. He never pulled apart from the hug and walked forward, which caused you to topple over the soft couch. You giggled as he stuffed his face into the side of your neck and took a whiff of your scent. You wiggled around as he tickled you with his breath. In between your giggles you asked why he was being like a mopey puppy and he let out a long groan. He pulled apart and stared up into your eyes with his dopey ones and whined, “When we got ready to leave the shooting site for Kingdom, Chanwoo came up to me and told me how nice you were. How do you guys even know each other??” You chuckled at his pouty and jealous expression and placed your hand on top of his head. You played with his fluffy hair and told him in an amused tone, “Chani had his number and I love Chanwoo’s voice.” You saw Inseong pout again and you continued teasing him, “I couldn’t just give up on such a great opportunity. I am a dedicated ikonic.” The last sentence triggered him and he immediately hoisted his body up and peered down at you with jealousy, “I thought you love my voice.” You giggled and decided to stop teasing him before he exploded with even more jealousy and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled him down and connected your lips to his, “I love your voice the most.” He immediately replaced the pout on his lips with a wide smile.

Jaeyoon

You waited for Jaeyoon to finish taking a shower after he came back from his shoot for Kingdom so you sprawled yourself across your bed and decided to stream the youtube clips of previous Kingdom performances on your iPad. The thumbnail of The Boyz’s performance caught your eye and you clicked into the clip. You were so excited to see another version of The Stealer and also couldn’t wait to see your bias, Sangyeon, dancing to it. You were so absorbed into their beautiful choreo, you didn’t realize that Jaeyoon came out of the bathroom and was standing by the bed frame for a good ten minutes. He cleared his throat but you didn’t hear him through the loud audio. Jealously crept into his veins and he tried his best to cover it with sarcasm, “Should I dance to The Stealer so my baby will pay attention to me?” You finally heard him and chuckled at his behavior. You taunted him in response, “But it won’t be the same because you’re not Sangyeon.” Jaeyoon gasped, feigning hurt and took the device from your hands. He carelessly placed it on the bedside table before he flung himself onto the soft mattress. He hovered over you and said with amusement, “Well then I guess I have to show you why Jaeyoon is even better.”

Dawon

Dawon stared at you for the longest time in disbelief and chuckled out of nervousness as you sat beside him on the couch of his company’s dance studio. You made dramatic fangirl comments at Ateez’s Kingdom performance especially when Seonghwa appeared on the screen. You punched Dawon’s arm and told him to watch with you, excessively showering Seonghwa with praises. You weren’t oblivious to your boyfriend’s jealousy but you loved it whenever the opportunity came up. He has a tendency of sarcastically laughing with a hint of shy nervousness when he gets jealous and that was exactly how he was acting at the moment. Originally, you only wanted to see Ateez’s performance because you were a big fan of them and because you were waiting for Dawon to finish practicing. But when he came down and sat beside you, you unintentionally praised Seonghwa’s beauty on stage which sparked Dawon’s jealously and you couldn’t help but to continuously tease him and rile him up. As a result, you amped up your inner fangirl until Dawon couldn’t handle it anymore. “Okay that’s it,” He chuckled bitterly and grabbed your phone. You turned to him and he stared into your eyes with a pout and large puppy eyes. “Focus on me baby.” You swallowed down a laughter and extended your arm out for the phone and wailed, “But my Seonghwa!” At this rate, Dawon knew you were messing with him so he grabbed your arms and placed it around his neck before he proceeded to lift you up off the couch and onto him. He sat back down on the couch and had you on top of his laps. Quickly and cunningly, he shoved your phone underneath his butt and sarcastically remarked with amusement, “Come get your phone if you want to see your Seonghwa that badly.”

Rowoon

Rowoon had just come back from his shooting for Kingdom and you followed him around the house like a lost puppy. “Did you see Younghoon? Did you get to talk to him? How was it seeing him perform live??” You fired questions at him like an automatic rifle, clearly showing your enthusiasm as a Deobi, especially a Younghoon stan. Rowoon knew you really liked The Boyz and he was usually fine with your enthusiastic support for the group. He would even join you and fanboy himself when you watch their stages on Youtube. But Rowoon was exhausted after the shooting and was anticipating to have his s/o welcome him home with some love, something he missed so much after being apart from you for drama and Kingdom shootings. Instead, you were asking him about another man and that immediately sparked his jealousy. At first, he just let you ramble on as he took off his shoes and went to the bathroom to freshen up. He loves you and he usually will never pick a fight or act petty no matter how jealous he was. You knew that. You also knew that he was jealous the moment you opened your mouth. At first, you only wanted to get some intel from your boyfriend who had seen one of your biases in person but after seeing the jealousy that flashed in his eyes, you made it your mission to make Rowoon crack for once. You were enjoying yourself so much that you continued talking about Younghoon even as he was in the shower. You leaned against the marble sink and tried saying random nonsense to rile him up but he only chuckled at your fangirl behavior and continued to shower. Suddenly, a mischievous thought crossed your mind and you waited until Rowoon turned off the shower faucet and stepped out to initiate the plan. You feigned a curious, innocent stare at him and placed your hand beneath your chin as if you were deeply contemplating. “Babe, I’m curious about something...” He absentmindedly replied as he plugged in the hair dryer to the wall outlet, “Oh yeah? What is it?” You smirked and eyed him up and down, “Do you think Younghoon is as tall and built as you?” Rowoon froze midway through drying his hair. He turned towards you and turned the device off with a jealous look on his face, one that you have never seen before. You bit down on your lips to hold back a laughter. Gotcha. Before he could muster up a response you continued, “What about his laugh? Does he laugh like you do?” You stared at your boyfriend innocently and his face was flushed red with jealousy. He placed the hair dryer aside and suddenly hoisted you up on top of his broad shoulders, “Definitely not.” He said firmly and then chuckled before softly throwing you onto the cloud-like mattress. His face hovered closely above yours, “He will never be able to easily carry you like I just did nor could he ever make you smile the way I do.” You burst out into giggles as he proceeded to tickle you until you shower him with compliments the way you did with Younghoon.

Zuho

Zuho casually talked to you about his experience in Kingdom as he drove through the dimly lit streets. The two of you decided to go for a quick date late at night, mostly to avoid getting caught by the media, and he was beyond excited to tell you about meeting his seniors. You listened intently and responded with excitement as well since the both of you were huge fans of Btob. Zuho stopped talking once the car had arrived to the isolated park. The two of you laid on top of the car’s hood and gazed at the stars in the night sky and continued the conversation. Somewhere in the middle of your chat, you turned to him and pouted. You told him you wish you were there as well because you wanted to see and hear Minhyuk live. You emphasized with a big pout on your lips, “I want to see Minhyuk rap with his husky voice but also hear him sing with his honey smooth vocals.” Zuho froze for a second, your words not fully processing through his mind. He turned towards you and mumbled with slight jealousy, “I didn’t know you like Minhyuk that much.” He chuckled in disbelief and questioned you, “Husky voice? Honey smooth vocals?” He then became really flustered, caught by surprise at you fangirling more than usual. He kept blinking in disbelief, unable to accept the fact that you liked Minhyuk so much. You found amusement in his cute behavior and teased him even more. You placed your hands by your heart and said dramatically, “I could die happily once I hear Minhyuk live.” Zuho started to get really flustered, cheeks red with jealousy. You chuckled at your adorable boyfriend and squished his cheeks, “I’m messing with you babe! I’m a diehard Melody but my boyfriend is always the #1 person I’d die for.” You gave him a ridiculously sweet look and he caved in. He pulled you on top of him for a hug before the both of you accidentally slid off the side of the hood and onto the ground, with Zuho underneath you as a cushion. He grunted at the impact as you giggled uncontrollably.

Taeyang

When you were mindlessly humming to No Air in the kitchen after watching The Boyz’s latest Kingdom performance, Taeyang’s ears perked up and jealousy immediately ignited in his body. Yes, he gets jealous that easily. You would usually tell him how you enjoy watching The Boyz perform because it’s so satisfying and he would agree because it’s true. But you would also start to notice his pettiness everytime you mention them. He’d nod at your comments and agree but in a way that seems almost sarcastic. “Yeah they are great dancers,” he’d tell you. But then he’d look up at you and say, almost for confirmation, “But I’m a great dancer too.” You’d chuckled to yourself and agree or else you know he’ll be sulking for the rest of the day. But this time, you wanted to see how Taeyang gets when he’s really jealous. At first, No Air really was stuck on your head so you were humming to it. However, something mischievous struck you as you were making chocolate covered strawberries in the kitchen. You wanted to see how far you could take the joke so you purposely pressed his buttons. From the moment he heard you humming, he immediately dashed by your side and wrapped his arms around you as you boiled the chocolate. He laid his head on your shoulder and tried his best to subtly ask you, “Were you watching The Boyz’s performance again?” You replied with a yes and emphasized, “Juyeon is such a great dancer and his expressions are so intriguing,” and that’s when Taeyang lost it. He clung onto you as you were trying to cool down the chocolate and even while you were moving to grab the strawberries from the fridge, he’d stick to you like glue and kept asking you why you like Juyeon so much. “Babyyy,” he whined, “Did you forget about me??” He kept kissing your cheeks with his arms wrapped around you as you struggled to wash the strawberries. At the end, you gave up and twisted around to face him. His arms never let go of your waist as he continued saying jealous nonsense. You took your hand and squished his cheeks, “You are the best, most handsome and talented dancer, artist, and boyfriend okay?” He smirked, satisfied, and you giggled at his ridiculous face squished between your hand. He was just about to open his mouth to spew more nonsense and you shoved a strawberry in his mouth, “okay now shush babe. I love you but I want to eat my chocolate covered strawberries, preferably with the chocolate, so stop clinging onto me.”

Hwiyoung

Hwiyoung’s a fun-loving boyfriend and he wouldn’t just randomly get jealous even if you were meeting up with an ex. He respects your boundaries and trusts your decisions. You love him for that but it also wanted made you curious as to how your boyfriend would react when jealous. SO you decided to surprise him after his Kingdom shoot and went to pick him up with their manager. You hid in the van and surprised the boys when they came toward the vehicle. The eight boys already knew your devious plan and paid no mind to you acting unusually dramatic as you kept asking him if he talked to Hyunjin during the shoot and if you could meet him as well. He looked at you weirdly with a bit of skepticism, “You weren’t that interested in meeting him when I was on Idol Radio with him..why are you so eager now?” You flinched at his retaliation and quickly hopped into the van. You heard Rowoon and Juho snickered in the back and you glared at them for the mockery. As the engine started and the vehicle started down the road back to the dorms, you initiated your second attempt to get under your boyfriend’s skin. You pulled out your phone and watched the Stray Kids’s introduction stage on youtube without earphones. Subtly, you turned to Hwiyoung and asked with the most innocent and adoring eyes, “Babe I didn’t know Hyunjin looked so great with long hair.” At that comment, Hwiyoung’s expression slightly shifted. Almost immediately he responded with a more serious tone, “Even better than I did?” You held back your laughter and felt success creeping up. In the back of the van, you saw Rowoon and Zuho giving you a slightly surprised expression. You winked at them and got excited as your boyfriend gradually became jealous. When you all got back to the dorm, Hwi stuck to your side. You tried so hard not to laugh as he kept asking you with slight skepticism in his tone, “When did you like Hyunjin so much?” “Should I grow out my long hair again?” He acted like a kid got abandoned by his mother and needed to grab your attention. To your surprise, he acted in such a different way than you would’ve thought. But you found it so adorable so you teased him even more by turning the tv on to watch a Hyunjin fancam. Hwi caught you by surprise again as he plopped down on the couch beside you and wiggled adorably to get your attention. You raised the remote to your lips and masked your giggles, keeping note to tease him more often.

Chani

Another one that doesn’t get jealous often. Or ever actually. That’s just not the way he shows affection. But that was until things got a little too personal. Beside the sepgu boys, Chani has never really seen you interact with any of his other friends so he never understood actual jealousy. However, after the one time Chanwoo called Chani to thank him for his advice on Kingdom, he started to notice how much you liked Chanwoo and Ikon. Because of your boyfriend’s appearance on Kingdom, you started to take an interest on Ikon and became a fan of their music. It was true that you liked Chanwoo’s voice but it was never really to the extent of fangirling over him. That thought never crossed your mind until Chani kept asking you how much you liked Ikon, or most importantly, Chanwoo. From his point of view, he’d always notice how your face brightens while watching Ikon performances on the tv. He’d stare at you with a hesitant smile and when you asked him what he was staring at you for, he’d simply reply with a shrug, “You always seem so happy to see Chanwoo’s part in the song.” At first, you hadn’t put much thought into his comment until he continuously brought it up every time an Ikon music video appeared on tv. And so one day, you decided to tease him and hopefully see your boyfriend become an adorable, jealous mess. The two of you were browsing through Netflix shows in your bedroom since it was his free day. You had the remote as you struggled to find something remotely interesting to watch. The two of you slept until late afternoon, yet Chani was still as drowsy as before. You chuckled to yourself as he laid comfortably on your shoulder. Suddenly, he shifted on the bed and got up to go to the bathroom. You found this to be the perfect chance to rile him up so you quickly exited the Netflix page and went to youtube to watch a Chanwoo fancam. Chani came back and slightly flinched in surprise at the tv screen. Your eyes were glued to the tv screen and you ignored him as he crawled back onto the bed and asked, “I thought we were watching a show?” You smiled to yourself and told him you felt like watching Chanwoo dance instead. You were mentally preparing yourself to see Chani act adorably jealous but he took you by surprise and grabbed the remote from you. He turned the tv off and stared at you with dark lust in his eyes. You fell back against the headboard as he hovered over you. He whispered in a deep voice with apparent annoyance and jealousy in his tone, “Chanwoo this. Chanwoo that. It seems like you forgotten who your boyfriend is.” You chuckled nervously and told him you were just joking, but it was too late. Chani pulled the covers over the both of you and lets just say...you eventually got off bed to have your first meal of the day in the late evening.

———

• Yes. These were long. Yes. Some of these gradually got spicy. 🥵 But I couldn’t help it I love the boys agsgsksks •

• Support the boys (and other groups) on kingdom! •

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sundaysundaes · 4 years

Text

Whispers

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 5k | Idol AU

Summary: Donghyuck has been busy promoting his new album and no matter how much he misses you, he can’t see you in person due to his schedules. Desperate for your touch, he begins to call you late at night.

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation (male and female), dirty talk (but is it still called ‘dirty talk’ if Donghyuck is just being honest and saying whatever that comes to his mind?), no plot with a lot of dialogues

The vibration of your iPhone wakes you up from your dream. Being thrown back so suddenly to reality makes you feel slightly lightheaded but it’s all worth it the second you see his name written on your screen. Rubbing your eyes away from sleep, you answer his call, “Hyuck?”

“Hey, Noona.” The airiness of his honeyed voice sounds familiar and pleasant in your ears that it instantly paints a smile on your face. “Did I wake you?”

You refrain yourself from yawning. “Yeah, I fell asleep reading.” Narrowing your eyes irritatedly at the brightness of the fluorescent light hanging on your ceiling, you decide to switch it off and uses the dim glow of the bedside lamp instead.

“What time is it?” He gasps when he notices the time on his screen. “Three AM?! Shit, I didn’t realize it was this late. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t be sleeping anyway. I still have to work on my papers, so it’s actually good that you woke me up.” You nuzzle close to the pillow, holding your phone to your ear with one hand, blinking sleepily. “Did you just get back from schedule?”

“Yeah.” He sighs wearily. “I’m dead tired right now. I wish I could just take a day off, you know? I mean, performing is fun, but promoting a new album can be so hectic. I’ve only been sleeping for, like, two hours per day since last week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You bring the teddy bear he’d given you on your birthday close to your chest, pretending like you were embracing him. “I wish you could take some days off, too.”

“Yeah?” Somehow, he sounds like he’s smiling. “Then do what?”

“I don’t know, play games, I guess? Or just lie around in bed, doing nothing.”

“I’d rather be doing something, actually.” He chuckles softly, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Or someone.”

“Gross,” you retort but you can feel your lips curving upwards. “It’s okay if you want to rest, Hyuck. You don’t have to force yourself to call me every day. Your health should be your number one priority.”

“What, you don’t want me to call you?”

You freeze. “Of course I want you to call me. I just—”

“I thought you’d be excited to hear my voice.”

The sudden bitterness in his tone makes you sit up from the bed, eyebrows adjoined in confusion. “What—Hyuck—”

“You know what?” He exhales loudly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have called. It’s late anyway.“

“Can you please just listen—”

“I’m tired. Let’s just talk tomorrow.”

“But—”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Hyuck—” But you’re only answered by silence when the line gets disconnected. You stare at your phone, eyes wide in disbelief.

What the hell just happened?

Upset and vexed, you dial his number. You wait with your jaw clenched until he picks up on the fourth ring. “Can’t you listen to me for one second?!” Not sure if it’s because of the drowsiness or exhaustion, but you find yourself shouting even before he says anything. “Of course, I want you to call me, you idiot! It’s the only thing I’ve been waiting all day. Every day, Hyuck, I wait for your call every day. I keep catching myself checking on my phone every ten minutes, waiting for your texts, wanting to call you. I miss you, of course, I miss you—you’re—” You turn stiff when you hear him cackling from the other side of the phone. “Are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry.” His laughter is contagious but you put up your best effort not to get infected. “You’re so cute when you get all riled up. Isn’t it obvious that I was just joking?”

“Right. I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, Noona—” You listen to him with your eyes throwing ice daggers to the wall. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” There’s a small pause where you’re too irritated to talk and he’s too unsure to start but he tries. “So, like… you miss me?”

“Not right now.”

“Aaw, come on, I was just messing around.” You can imagine him puckering his lips, batting his eyelashes for forgiveness. “Please, tell me. Tell me how much you miss me.”

You throw yourself back to the bed, huffing. “I don’t think I want to.”

“You get cuter when you’re angry, you know that?” He sighs to the air. “Aaah… I miss you. I miss you so much, Noona, you don’t even know. Probably more than you miss me.”

I don’t think that’s possible. “Of course,” you reply, holding back a smile from breaking on your face. “Since I only miss you a little bit.”

“A little bit?”

“A tiny, tiny bit. On second thought, maybe I don’t miss you at all.”

“Is that so?” You can tell he’s exhausted by the way he lets out his chuckle, but it doesn’t mean it’s less sincere. “It really has been a while since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?”

You nod to yourself. “Four months.”

“You keep count, huh?” His teasing tone makes you flushed. “Love me that much, do you?”

“Around four months,” you correct him, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible when the truth is, you can practically hear your heart hammering against your ribcages. “Or maybe three? Five? I don’t know.”

“Why are you so cute? Seriously, how can you be this cute?” Donghyuck sits on the edge of his bed, lips forming so widely that it nearly splits his face in half. When his chuckles have receded, his eyes begin to soften. “I love you, Noona. You know that, right?”

People might be thinking about how lucky you are to have a member of one of the most prestigious boybands in the world confessing his love for you at 3 AM, but honestly? You’re just so grateful for the fact that Lee Donghyuck, a boy who stole your heart nearly a decade ago when you were too young to even understand the word love, finally realized that your entire relationship with him was deeper than a mere friendship. It took years for both of you to finally gain enough bravery to act out your feelings, especially when he managed to shine brighter than you could ever imagine being. You were afraid of it—afraid that you would be burnt by his fame, afraid that he would discard you for he had everything and you only had him. But Donghyuck didn’t want anything. He only wanted you.

You love him. You’ve been loving him for as long as you can remember so hearing him say the words, no matter how often he has mentioned it already, still sparks fire through your veins. You’ll never admit that out loud, though.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot these days,” he sheepishly adds.

“More than you think about yourself?” You snort. “I’m shocked.”

“Eeyyy, I’m serious.” The sound of your giggle makes him sigh, longing to hear it in person. “I wish I could be with you right now. I thought about you a lot during today’s photoshoot too.” He lies down on the bed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought about our last date. About that red dress you wore. Man, you looked so cute in that dress.”

You half-buried your face in the pillow, heat blossoming on your cheeks. “Now this is the topic I like to talk about.”

Donghyuck scrunches up his nose. “Aren’t you gonna say I looked nice too that day?”

Even the slightest thought of him—any version of him, whether it was him dressing handsomely on a date or him waking up in the morning with a bird’s nest on his head—never fails to send butterflies swirling in your stomach, but again, you’ll never admit that out loud. “Meh,” you jeer, even adding a shrug when you know he won’t be able to see. “Could’ve dressed better. I mean, ripped jeans? Really?”

“Yah, yah, yah. You said I looked good wearing those jeans!”

“We were going to a fancy restaurant and I wore a semi-formal dress, Hyuck. They just didn’t match my outfit. They didn’t match anyone’s outfit there, really.”

“Really? You’re gonna say that? Even after you spent the whole night stealing glances at me with drool on your face?”

You wish you could say he was lying, but you indeed spent the entire night drooling at him over the sight of his black leather jacket and the way his jeans just wrapped his thighs so perfectly. “I have lost interest in this topic.” It’s for the best before you combust into flames. “Where are you right now?”

“Back at the dorm.” He softly yawns. “In my room.”

“Alone?”

“Yep, since Johnny-hyung is filming out of town.” When you stay quiet, unsure of what to say, Donghyuck grins mischievously. “Why, do you wanna sneak in? I think I can afford to lose some sleep tonight, if you know what I mean.”

Flustered, you retort, “After Johnny caught us cuddling last time? No way.”

“Yeah, about that,” Donghyuck says a little awkwardly, “After you went home he said to me that he heard the whole thing—”

“What do you mean the whole thing?” The horror in your face and your voice is clear.

“I meant, the whole thing. Us having sex and stuff.”

You could practically feel the exact moment when your soul is leaving your body, but Donghyuck continues as if he’s simply talking about getting caught cheating during a test. “But it’s okay, he’s cool. He’s got my back.”

“Oh my God.” You nearly faint. “I will never show my face in front of your roommate, ever again.”

“Yeah, about that—“

“Are you fucking kidding me, Hyuck—”

“Jaehyun-hyung heard us too.”

“What?!”

“And he told Mark-hyung about it later on, and that’s the reason why I had this bump on my head for three days.” Donghyuck pouts, rubbing the back of his head, lean fingers carding through soft brown locks. “He hit me with a book, lecturing me about bringing you to the dorm as if he never did that himself.”

Not trying to overreact about it, but you’re suffocating by this point. “Why are you so chill about this?!”

“They heard us having sex, not murdering the innocents.” He rolls his eyes but seems amused at your reaction. “To be honest, I hear a lot of stuff happening in our dorm that I’m sure you don’t wanna know. Like, a lot a lot. Way worse than what I did with you.”

“And does Taeyong know about this?”

“Taeyong-hyung needs his beauty sleep so we agreed not to tell him stuff.”

“I feel sorry for him.”

“I just feel sorry he’s not part of our antics.” Donghyuck shrugs, kicking off his shoes and socks before he leans against the headboard. “How about you? Are you alone?”

“Yeah.” You heavily sigh, still feeling quite dizzy after hearing the truth he just blurted out. “My roommate’s gone for the weekend.”

“Oh…” He taps his fingers against his stomach, a weird feeling swirling inside his chest as a thought begins to form. “That’s… great…”

Donghyuck’s tongue lays heavy in his mouth, suddenly loses the ability to form a simple conversation as his mind begins to focus entirely on something else. It all started that one night when he pretended to be asleep, when in fact, he was listening to his roommate, Johnny, speaking to his girlfriend in hushed whispers. The way the older man was chuckling to his phone was suspicious, and the more he tried to listen intently, the more he realized that Johnny wasn’t conversing. He was giving orders with a voice thick with seduction. The sensual words Johnny used made Donghyuck’s ears turn scarlet, and he buried his face deeper behind his blanket. Since then, the curiosity within him has been rising more and more, nearly suffocating him sometimes when he desperately yearned for your touch but his schedule never let him take a goddamn break.

Not knowing the dirty thoughts that flit across his mind, you carry on your conversation like usual. “I guess, but it does get lonely sometimes when she’s not around. I actually like having a roommate.” The sandalwood aroma from your diffuser, combined with his velvety voice, comforts you and you’re finally able to relax. “Have you been eating well? I’ve been craving for strawberry—”

“What are you wearing?”

“—pancakes—what?”

“I…” Donghyuck heaves out a heavy breath, biting the corner of his lip, unsure yet not ready to give up on his desire. “I just… I was wondering—Are you wearing pajamas?”

“Umm…” The way he asks about it sends heat rising to your cheeks. He doesn’t sound as innocent as the words he uses. You look down, fingers curling at the hemline of your clothes. “I’m wearing one of your shirts, actually.”

Donghyuck throws his head back, eyes tightly shut as he curses silently into the air, his phone pressed against his chest. The sight of you wearing his oversized shirt has been one of his most recurring fantasies and not being able to see you, but knowing that you are wearing his shirt, kills him.

“Hyuck?”

Donghyuck brings his phone back to his ear. “Sorry, there was a… Mark.” He mentally slaps himself on the head.

“There was a Mark?”

“I mean, Mark-hyung was here—but he just left so—"

“Are you drunk again?”

“No!” Donghyuck rubs his temple. This is not going well, he shouts in his mind. “Why—” He winces when he hears his voice crack. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Because it smells like you and it helps me sleep better. “Just because,” you quietly mumble, eyes locked to the ceiling. “Why are you asking me this exactly?”

“Just because,” he mimics. His breathing sounds more prominent as if he’s in the same room, only a few inches away from your ear. It’s the reason why you enjoy talking to him this way instead of taking video calls. You can focus solely on his honeyed voice, almost like a lullaby to your ears. “Can you tell me…” he continues, laced with both hesitation and anticipation, “What else you're wearing?”

“Umm…” You take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself composed. “I don’t think I want to say.”

“Please, Noona.” The sudden desperation in his plead startles you as if he’s losing control of himself, little by little. He seems to notice that too because when he speaks again, it’s steadier, almost formal. “I just… I want to know. If that’s okay.”

“Well…” You curl your toes. “Aside from your shirt, I’m…” Just say it, for God’s sake. He’s your boyfriend. He’s seen you naked. “I’m only wearing my panties.”

There’s a pause that makes your heart thump. “Not, uhh…” Donghyuck wets his lip. “Not even a bra?”

You fiddle with your fingers. “N-no.”

“Fuck.”

You nearly drop your phone. The guttural groan he just emitted from the back of his throat catches you off guard. “Hyuck..?”

“Noona, there’s—” Donghyuck sits up straight, nails nearly sinking to his jean-clad thigh. “There’s something I want to try.” There’s a sense of urgency mixed with minimum self-control. “I-if you don’t mind…”

You know where this is going. “What is it?”

“Just—Just follow my lead, okay?”

You shakily nod your head. When he calls out your name again, you remember that you have to say it in words. “Okay.”

“Can you…” Donghyuck’s heart is beating out of control. His mind desperately tries to answer how the fuck do I start this?! “Can you, umm, lie down on the bed for me?”

You can tell he’s nervous and it’s both reassuring and endearing to know that he’s never done this with anyone else before and probably not mentally ready to do it with you, but tries to go all the way because he knows both of you need to find a way to release all of these pent-up emotions.

You follow his order. “I’m…” You take a deep breath so your voice won’t tremble too much. “I’m lying on my bed.”

Donghyuck always takes a few seconds before answering, as if he’s battling inside his head as he tries to sort out his thoughts. “Is your light turned on?”

“Yes.”

“Turn it off.”

You switch off the button on your bedside lamp. “Okay, it’s off.”

“Okay, mine too.” Then all you can hear is his slightly ragged breathing. “It’s… a bit awkward, isn’t it?” He chuckles nervously, followed by an inaudible, “Fuck, why am I so nervous,” as he’s straying away from the phone.

A smile paints your lips. “You’re adorable.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

When silence strikes, Donghyuck scratches his cheek. “Do you… want to know what I’m wearing?”

You gulp. “S-sure.”

“Well…” Donghyuck takes a look at himself. “I’m wearing a denim jacket, a white shirt, a pair of jeans—I just got back from a photoshoot so—”

So he must look good. “Take them off.”

He’s probably as startled as you are when you hear the words tumbling down your mouth. But even if he is as embarrassed as you are, he doesn’t make it as obvious. “Sure.” A rustling sound can be heard, and you let your imagination wander. You can tell he’s taking off his jacket and soon, his shirt will follow. Donghyuck would always take his shirt off by grabbing the fabric from the back and yank it over his head, instead of crossing his arms at his waist. There’s something masculine about it, but you tend to get more distracted at the way his muscles would contract in his lean stomach. His silver necklace would dangle around his neck, and he’d smirk whenever he caught you staring at him for a second too long.

“My shirt’s off,” he quietly states, snapping you out of your reverie. “Now take yours off—wait! Wait. Leave it on. I want to imagine you wearing my shirt. Just take off your panties.”

“I’m—” It’s so damn hard to focus when you feel so ashamed just by hearing his instructions. “Okay…” Your fingers are quivering when they slide down your stomach, thumb hooking around the hem before you pull your lingerie down to the middle of your thighs.

“Lie down,” he whispers, “Prop a pillow behind your back. Are you comfortable?”

“Y-yeah, just…” You sigh, head going dizzy. “Embarrassed.”

The airy laughter that flows from his mouth is too innocent to be heard in this kind of situation. “So cute. Me too, actually. I’ve never done this before.” When his chuckles have receded, the nervousness grows vivid in his voice once again. “Do you, umm... Do you want to stop?”

You’re supposed to say yes, or at least a bit conflicted about it, so it shocks you when you immediately answer, “No,” without hesitation.

“Thank God.” Donghyuck sighs, smiling softly against the phone. “‘Cause I wouldn’t know what to do if you said yes.” He unbuckles his belt with one hand, taking it off as his heartbeat soars through the roof. “Then, umm… can you spread your legs? As wide as you can.”

You feel so exposed even when no one is looking. Following his guidance, you question, “What about you? What are you doing?”

“I’m…” Donghyuck swallows hard, looking down at the way his hand is pressing against his semi-hardness. “I’m rubbing myself over my pants.”

Fuck, you mentally groan. “Why aren’t you touching yourself directly?”

“Cause I want to wait for you.” He has his eyes closed, hand slipping under the hemline of his jeans, stroking himself over his boxer. “I want to picture you rubbing your fingers on your clit. I want to hear you moan my name when you do.”

Oh my God. “Then guide me,” you plead. There’s something so irresistibly sexy about him touching himself while picturing you pleasuring yourself with your fingers. “Tell me what to do, Hyuck.”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip. The excitement of being able to act as a puppeteer, tugging on your strings, sends all blood rushing south. “Can you push your shirt up? Don’t take it off, just—” He exhales, taking a moment to collect himself after a certain obscene thought of you touching yourself entered his mind. “Just make sure it’s not in the way.”

“Okay.” You grip the hemline of your shirt, pulling it up until it pools above your chest. “Now, what?”

“I want you to touch your breasts.” You’re more aroused by his breathy voice and lustful tone than embarrassed at this point. “Imagine me, Noona,” Donghyuck whispers, and he sounds so close, as if he’s lying down next to you. “Imagine me with my hands on you, caressing your breasts. Can you do that?”

You squeeze your breast, mumbling out a weak, “Yes…” The memory of Donghyuck, embracing you from behind, his naked chest pressed against your spine, hot mouth lazily pressing wet kisses against your nape suddenly comes alive in your mind. You still remember how sexy he sounded moaning out your name as he rocked his hips forward, his fingers exploring around your chest, rubbing and pinching at a certain spot to make you press closer to him in desperation for more of his touch.

“Suck on your fingers, make them wet, then bring them back down.” Donghyuck’s hips are bucking against his hand, his fingers tugging his zipper down. “Imagine my mouth latching on your nipple, sucking it the way I always do. The way you like me to do.”

You bring your fingers to your mouth, coating two of them with saliva before you bring them back down to pinch your sensitive bud. With your eyes closed and his heavy breathing in your ear, the wet sensation of your fingers gives you a clear image of his tongue flicking against your nub.

“Tell me how you feel.”

“It’s not enough,” you croak out, “I want to feel you directly on my skin.”

Donghyuck takes a sharp breath. “You don’t even know how much I want to be there and touch you.” The way his voice suddenly becomes deep sends shivers down your spine. “I want to suck bruises on your skin. I want to mark you everywhere, again and again, so the bruises will last for days. I want you to remember me every time you see yourself in the mirror.”

You sheepishly smile, though your heart is still racing. “I always remember you even without that, Haechannie.”

The sudden change of his name warms his heart. “I wish you’re the only one who calls me that. You make my stage name sounds better, special. I could have thousands of people screaming my name but none of them makes me feel the way you do.” As he slides his hand under his boxer, finally making direct contact with his skin, Donghyuck becomes desperate once again. “Bring your other hand down. I want you to touch yourself, Noona, please.”

You slide your hand between your legs, tentatively rubbing yourself between your folds. “Hyuck…”

“Does it feel good?”

You nod, eyes shut, and your mind wanders. “Yes…”

“Rub your clit for me. And imagine I’m doing that with my tongue.”

You can picture him with his head between your legs so perfectly behind your closed eyelids. He has done it several times and you remember how he would always start slow, placing open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh before dipping his head down and swipe his tongue along your folds—all the while never breaking eye-contact. He would press a kiss against your clit, and lick you slowly because he’d want you to beg for it. He never directly told you but you could tell he liked being in control because the second you whispered “Please, Hyuck,” he would immediately indulge you with everything you wanted and more.

Donghyuck would suck hard on your clit, doing it so suddenly that you’d nearly crush him by wrapping your legs too tightly around his head. Amazed and delighted by your reaction, he would break into a smile with his tongue still darting out to taste you, mouth pressing harder against your skin until he plunged his tongue inside your heat.

You moan out his name at the memory, directly to the phone.

“Fuck, baby, you sound so perfect…” Donghyuck nearly whimpers and the word baby stirs something within you as he never called you that before.

“Call me like that again…” You rub yourself harder on the spot you like the most. “Please, Hyuck…”

“Baby…” Donghyuck’s fingers are curling harder around his length, pumping himself in accordance to every gasp and moan you’re emitting. “I wish I could see you—I wish I could lock my eyes with yours as I eat you up. I want to see your face, every single expression you make—I bet you look so cute, so goddamn... erotic.”

Your hold around your phone loosens but fortunately for you, the pillow pressing against it keeps it close to your ear. “Touch yourself,” you breathily murmurs, “I want you to touch yourself too.”

“I am, baby,” Donghyuck softly moans, his fingers tightening around his length. “What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to stroke yourself harder and run your thumb over your slit.” Donghyuck zealously follows, cursing under his breath at the pleasure. “And I want you to keep doing it until my name escapes your lips.”

“God, I want you.” He repeats your name over and over again, as ordered, with him stroking himself faster each time. “Noona, I want your mouth on me. I want to see you hollow your cheeks around me—like how you did to me when we were backstage, that time after the concert. You looked so pretty that night, so eager—so desperate for me—”

“Me too. I want to make you feel good too. I—” You nip at your bottom lip, feeling goosebumps creeping up your skin when he moans out your name. You’ve always loved his voice, loved it more than anything else in the world, and the sounds he makes when he’s in bed with you is the sexiest thing that even your poor mind can’t even begin to imagine. And now, focusing solely on his voice, listening to his filthy, sinful words, he’s driving you to the edge of your sanity.

“I’ve touched myself before at the thought of you,” he confesses breathlessly, “Several times, even way before we started dating.”

You’re trembling at the thought. “Haechannie—”

“You don’t know just how much—” The sound of him trying to stifle down a moan only makes you crave for him more. “—how much I wanted you back then. How much I want you now. Even during high school, I just—I wanted you—wanted to touch you—wanted—ah fuck,” a whine slipped out his lips, “Wanted to hold you so bad, to make love to you until—”

At the rustling sounds, him whimpering at his touches, and you rubbing yourself on the perfect spot, you know you won’t last long. “H-Hyuck, are you close?”

“Just a little bit more, Noona, ah—” He thrashes his head against the pillow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard. “Fuck, I need to be inside you. I need to feel you clenching your walls around me.” At the memory of you gazing at him with anticipation building inside your seductive, half-lidded eyes, as you parted your legs to give him permission to ravish you the way he wanted, Donghyuck quickens the pace, thrusting vigorously into his hand. “Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby, please.”

You’re more than keen to follow, inserting one digit inside your heat with another one following soon after. You can visualize him bringing your legs in the air until they dangle over his shoulders, his hips slamming hard against yours with each thrust. “Hyuck—”

“If you were here right now,” he nearly growls, “I would fuck you so hard until you’re mewling my name against the sheets. And I won’t stop, I won’t stop even if you beg me to. I won’t stop until I’m done with you.”

Donghyuck doesn’t sound like he’s trying to dirty talk which only makes it even more arousing to your ear. It’s as if he’s losing control of his mouth, just saying anything that comes to mind. The honesty, the urgency, his breathy, desperate calls of your name between lewd words—

You choke out a sob. “Hyuck—I’m close—”

“Me too—N-noona—Kiss me—”

It’s one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever felt and it’s funny because you never really enjoyed touching yourself before. Donghyuck follows a few seconds after, moaning your name so erotically that will probably give you a hard time falling asleep for days at the thought of it. You’re left dazed, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Your phone lays forgotten on the pillow next to you. Mustering all the strength you have left, you reach out for it. “Hyuck…?”

You can hear him breathing heavily. “I’m here,” he says. “Are you okay? Did you get to come?”

“Y-yes.” Now that it’s over, you begin to feel self-conscious again and the heat that blooms on your cheeks nearly wash every bit of your orgasm away in an instant. “Did you?”

“I made a huge mess.” He chuckles, sounding just as embarrassed as you are. “Fuck, didn’t realize it was going to be this good when we started. What would’ve happened if we had Face-Timed each other instead?”

Your head nearly explodes at the thought. “One step at a time, Hyuck. I’m practically dying from shame right now.”

He laughs a little at that. “So, you don’t really oppose the idea? Man, I have something to look forward to then.”

“Shut up, you’re gross. Is this the reason you called me?”

“No,” he hastily says, “I swear, I called because I missed hearing your voice.” Then he thinks about it again. “Well, I mean, I have been thinking about doing, uhh, these kinds of things with you but trust me, it wasn’t the reason why I called.”

“Sure,” you flatly reply, teasing him.

“Yah, yah, yah, it’s your fault for saying that you were wearing nothing but my shirt!”

“It’s your fault for asking me what I was wearing!”

It’s always like this with him. You’re bickering at one point, having sex at another time, then goes back to bickering once again. But it’s endearing, you suppose, because after this, you’ll be murmuring loving words, and just when you begin to think about it, Donghyuck whispers into the phone.

“I love you, Noona. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And you smile. “I love you too, Haechannie. You’re the second best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What the hell is the first one?”

“Chicken nuggets.”

“You’re so dead.”

***

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years

Note

I love your writing. May I have Loki x Reader? The reader is a sweet, delicate dreamer. Loki has come to conquer the world. He saw her and wants her to become his Queen of Midgard. He kidnapped her. She pleads with him to let her go while she is tied to the bed. He caresses her hair and says she will love him (he doesn't want to use the scepter on her).

***Can I have White Reader x Loki, please? Loki just escaped from the Helicarrier. He saw the reader who is a sweet and innocent creature. Loki doesn't want her dead when he will start battle. Loki kidnaps her and locks her up to keep her safe. When he wins, Loki tells her that she will become his queen.***

Hi! I decided to combine the prompts and make the reader plus-sized. I hope you enjoy!

His Match

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Plus-Sized Female Reader

Summary: You’ve tried to live by your grandmother’s rule of being kind to others, even when the world gives you the middle finger. What if a Norse God decided reward you by becoming his Queen?

Word Count: 1,745

Rating: 18+/Mature

Warning: Kidnapping, Implied Dub/Non-Con, Angst, and some Violence

A/N: Thanks goes to the amazing @angrythingstarlight for beta reading this!

Loki was walking around New York City, scouting Stark Tower making sure the final preparations of his plan was perfect when something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

She walked out of what looked like a women’s clothing store with a forlorn smile. She was plumper than the average female Midgardian last time he frequented the realm. His eyes did not miss the enticing curves that lied beneath her clothes despite her efforts to ensconce herself into the background.

She was a vision.

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments and it felt like time stopped. His heart quickened in his chest and a rush of blood surged to his groin.

He had to follow her. His Elskan.

“Barton, tell the others I’ll be out for a few more hours. Proceed as planned.”

–––––

He found you entering a rather destitute apartment complex. Its lights and foundation were a bit unsound and gave off a seedy ambience.

Loki grimaced at her living conditions. When he ruled Midgard, she would have only the best.

Casting a simple concealment spell, Loki entered her fairly small apartment. She began mixing ingredients together for what looked to be ‘chocolate chip cookies’. He smiled as he inhaled the sweet aroma knowingly; Asgard had only recently started consuming the sweet. She soon laid out a batch of thick, scrumptious cookies with a satisfied expression.

They reminded him of better times when he and Thor would sneak into the kitchens and swipe confections from under the baker’s nose. Loki chuckled at the memory; those were the days.

Not ten minutes after she placed the last cookie onto the cooling rack did her phone ring. It was her mother. Loki felt dread coming off his Elskan in waves.

Loki could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it that. Her mother constantly nagged her about her weight, life choices, and her ‘pathetic’ attempts to get over her ex-boyfriend. His heart broke as he saw tears begin to fall and the croaking of her voice as she bid the odious creature goodnight.

Several minutes after she cried herself to sleep, Loki entered his Elskan’s bedroom. He spied her diary on the nightstand and decided to read a few pages.

He was fuming within two minutes.

How dare that caustic pig sow treat his Elskan, her own daughter, in a such ghastly manner! Her ‘perfect’ sister always slighting and reminding her on how ‘she’ll never be good enough for anything’ and her father’s callous indifference to her cries for help and solace only added to his rage. Combined with the way her ex-boyfriend, the repugnant gnat, treated her (he cheated on her with someone who ‘wasn’t built like a blimp’ and ‘the only thing you thing you had going for you were your tits’) and he wanted to speed up the invasion just to watch the horror become engrained onto their faces.

And yet, she endeavored to treat everyone with kindness harkening back to your grandmother. She strived to be the one light in one’s otherwise miserable existence.

Well, she can be his light as his Elskan and Queen.

Loki took a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to stick to the plan. When he conquers Midgard, she will be their queen. She will grace the undeserving masses with her elegance and beauty and he will worship her every chance he got.

He just had to make her see it that way.

Gently, the light forest green glow of Loki's magic flowed from his hand to the crown of her head like a halo. He leaned in and kissed her cheek with a smile as he left.

He hated to leave her, but he had a realm to conquer. Though he hoped she’d enjoy the introductory gift.

––––––

You were in your grandmother’s living room; spacious yet comfy with all of her quirkiness and splendor included. It was odd since you haven’t been in her house since your parents sold after her death seven years ago. You tearfully smiled remembering all the good times you had with her, the only member of your family you gave you any true warmth or love.

Her piano was in the corner, barely aged a day with all the music sheets, pens, a light scratches you came to know and love. You took your seat and started to play the piano version of one of your favorite movie themes.

You were so engrossed in playing, you failed to notice someone materializing into your dreamscape.

“What a lovely tune! What is it called?” A smooth, honey-tinged voice broke your concentration.

You turned your head and saw what had to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was tall (6’ 10” / 2.08m) easily towering over any man you’ve ever met. He had smooth alabaster skin, light rose undertones with a little blue-red just under his eyes. His cheekbones were immaculate, somehow looked sharp and soft at the same time. He had thin lips with a fair plumpness to the bottom one. His slicked-back, shoulder-length Ponzu/Shadow Purple hair kissed his lean, battle-hardened physique (if the way he’s filling out his outfit was anyway to go by). All of this deliciousness was clothed in a casual Palm Green suit with a Glossy Black tie and shoes.

It took you a full minute to stop ogling him, “Wha-What did you say?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I asked what you were playing.” His voice had hints of mirth which was odd considering his appearance. Most people in his league would give you a thinly veiled sneer of disgust, but he seemed genuinely interested.

“Um, well, it’s called Merry-Go-Round of Life from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a favorite of mine. I used to play it all the time until…” You trailed off, not wanting to revisit how your grandmother died.

“You do not have to tell me if it brings you such displeasure.”

“Thank you, um…”

“Loki. Please, call me Loki.”

“Loki,” he inwardly moaned at the way you said his name, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Please, continue playing.”

And you did for what felt like hours, all while your sexy dream companion asked about your hopes, dreams, anything he could think of really. You in turn asked him about his life and interests; you even laughed at a story of his brother having to dress like a bride to get his hammer back.

You soon became enamored with Loki. It was refreshing to be noticed with actual interest, not ridicule or pity. He seemed to taken with you as well, if his gentle caresses and not-so-subtle lustful glances he gave you were any indication.

You were glad this was just a dream. You didn’t want your heart to break like last time.

Loki was about to lean in for a kiss when everything faded to black.

–––––

You jolted up from the mattress and screamed once you realized you weren’t in your room.

No, this room was…spectacular for lack of better word. It had high ceilings, large windows, ornate chandeliers, and magnificent balcony. Luxurious dark greens, gold, and black covered the room in splendor. Extravagant pieces of furniture dripped with precious stones metal worthy of queens or royal mistresses of old.

“What is this place?”

You tried to leave but was forced back onto the bed by a force field. You tried to take calm breaths just like your therapist taught you in order to make an escape plan.

No sooner did you calm down than the door open to reveal-

“Loki!”

Only Loki was wearing radically different clothing; looked like he walked right out of a fantasy epic. And yet, his smile was enchanting.

“What am I doing here? I need to go back home.”

He tutted in response, “That would not be wise, Elskan Mín. This world is mine now and this is safest place to be.” He was right. His brother’s team of desperate souls were no match for his cunning and Chitauri Forces. Midgard’s pathetic leaders gave up in less than an hour once their beloved ‘heroes’ were defeated, broken, and laid bare before them.

“You can’t be serious, Loki. I need to leave.”

“And go where? Like I said, this realm is mine now. That rat poison of a dwelling is no more and I have dealt with your ‘family’ as needed.” Loki smirked at the memories. It gave him extreme joy squeezing the life out of that worthless pig of mother, breaking every bone in your father’s body one by one, and leaving your ‘perfect’ sister alive with partially rotten skin. Not even the scavengers or maggots would find or want the remains of the scurvy insect of an ex-boyfriend, though he was still alive..just barely.

Well, at least until he decided on how to destroy the blight of creature.

Though he did make sure to leave two of your real friend were treated well. You needed to have someone to talk to while he was away.

You gazed into his Spearmint colored eyes in one last attempt, “Please Loki! If you love me, you’ll let me go!”

For a split second, you could’ve sworn you saw hurt in his eyes and he glided across the room. You back hit the headboard in you sad efforts to get away from him.

“Elskan Mín, I promise to always love, cherish, and worship every part of your glorious body. You will become Midgard’s queen and my goddess. No. One. Will. Ever. Demean. Or. Slight. You. Again.” he punctuated each word of the last sentence with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your face, neck, shoulders, and collarbone.

You tried to fight him, but it felt so good. His touches sent shots of lightning to your core; plus his lips and fingers were cook to the touch provided excellent contrast to the spike in heat.

You started crying realizing how pathetic this was, to have the first person to profess such feelings be a kidnapper. You were actually contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth.

Loki sensed your sorrow and kissed your tears away. “I know this might be ‘difficult’ at first, but you will love me in time.” He hoped he did not have to use the scepter.

You thought about your dream and all of the effort he was putting into this. It was frightening, but it came from a place of love.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.

–––––––

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#loki (marvel)#loki x reader #marvel loki x reader #dark loki #loki x female reader #loki x plus-sized reader #mcu imagine #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu au #loki imagines #loki imagines angst #mcu fanfiction #his match #oge answers #tom hiddleston

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Heartbreak Ave.

When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)

→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking

→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!

read the maknae line version here!

Kim Seokjin

he’s not surprised

it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room.

he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in

and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin

and Jin just watched, not surprised.

although what does surprise him is how much it hurts

that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away

and it doesn’t go away

it doesn’t fade

so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up

Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall

“Does Tae like her?”

Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out

but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush

and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible even as unshed tears glimmer

“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.

and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach

Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart

“I’d do anything for her.”

no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace.

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final.

because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him.

he lost.

he loved, and he lost.

Min Yoongi

you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train

sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand

because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess

when did he fall in love with you?

it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi

for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization

he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters

it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway

“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”

and he laughs.

quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever.

because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain.

he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.

so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?

he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake

“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”

his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile

and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch

and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.

it’s startlingly simple:

he wants to cry.

so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry.

then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.

and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all.

because he still loves you

and you will never know.

Jung Hoseok

hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions

he keeps them on lockdown

monitors them with military-like focus

so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you

(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)

and he knows the exact second when he fell in love

(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)

(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)

(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)

if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting

to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret

so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in

and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands

“hey” he breathes

you stare at the flowers, then at him

“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”

hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours

it’s electrifying, that small touch

and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick

pale face, concerned expression

he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.

gotta get this out of the way

ugh, feelings

and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes

and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet

not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection

so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it

he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own

you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy

so he does the job for you

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”

you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”

“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”

you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”

he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”

and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy.

and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions.

later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain.

he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower.

he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right.

Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.

Kim Namjoon

he’s told you he loves you a million times now

every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you

adores you with everything he is

you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across

he's never been like this before

never, he’s sure of it

and everyone knows, except for you.

it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression

Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed

but you have no idea

or are you just willfully ignorant?

all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning

but, oh, what a way to die

he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you

and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up

so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay

“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”

and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn

he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him

it’s like he physically can’t

“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt.

you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.

“just keep your snoring in check, loser”

and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed

you’re so far away

why are you so far away?

“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night

“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him

he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.

and he wants to kiss you so badly

so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back

and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline.

you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest

because to be honest, you’re confused

why is he looking at you like that?

but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression

your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing

your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss

and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!!

but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away

“namjoon.”

he’s never hated his name so much.

“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look.

because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips.

“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”

and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you.

“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid

“...Jungkook.”

two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him.

namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door.

“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”

and he’s gone before you can utter another word.

sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch.

“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”

Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips.

“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”

because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?

m.list || buy me an orange juice?

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so other people can read it! 💖

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi@knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall@miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine@hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @limiworld @jeonyoongi-jimin @buttvi @yoontaethings @sunshinejunghoseokie @delacyrose224@jiminiesmagicshop @hitsussi @fanfictonreader05 @hyungieyoongi @lolalee24

#bts reactions #namjoon reaction #jin reaction #yoongi reaction #suga reaction #hobi reaction #bts hyung line #bts angst #bts maknae line #bts x reader #this is seriously a bummer of a post lol #bts fanfic #bts scenarios

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anonymousfiction211 · 3 years

Text

Give it time: ch4

Click here for chapter 1 Click here for chapter 2 Click here for chapter 3

A/N: It took a while, but here is the continuation of Give it time. For the people who requested it, don’t worry. This is not the last chapter! I think about writing one, maybe two more. This one is written from Thor’s point of view. Hope you like it!

Brother ‘Loki? What are you doing in Asgard?’ Thor asked surprised when he saw his younger brother walking through the hall.

‘It’s my home, so what do you think?’ Loki answered clearly irritated. Before Thor could answer he walked past. Thor had learned to let Loki be when he was in one of his moods, and went in search of his mother. He found her in the garden.

After he had greeted his mother properly he asked ‘What is wrong with Loki?’

Her smiled turned sad. ‘I only know that he and (Y/N) had a fight. Apparently she has gotten back together with her ex-boyfriend Steve? He was a bit cryptic and didn’t feel like talking about it. All I know that he is been in a foul mood, berating the staff, annoying your father and recently he started to drink and attend party’s… trying to find his happiness elsewhere’

‘What do you mean broke up? (Y/N) truly loved him, I didn’t even know she and Steve were together once’

‘This is all I know, he barely sleeps, is angry all the time, and I’m afraid he is planning something. I think it is best you go talk to him’ Frigga told him.

Thor hummed in agreement, and went to search for Loki. A task proven to be extremely difficult if his younger brother didn’t want to be found. It took him half the afternoon, but he finally found Loki sulking in his own private library.

‘Brother, what happened?’ Thor asked.

‘Go away, Thor. I’m not in the mood for you or the volume of your voice’ Loki snarled.

‘Tell me what happened, you’re miserable that is plain to see. Maybe I can help?’ Thor asked, ignoring his brother’s bad temper.

‘Thanks for the compliment, and no you can’t help me. Nobody can’ Loki answered.

‘Loki, just tell me’ Thor sighed. ‘If you do, I will leave you alone’ he added.

This got the attention of Loki. ‘Fine’ he said. And Loki explained his version of events. The past between Steven and (Y/N). How Steve has been setting (Y/N) up against him, how she is too naïve, how Steve practically admitted that he wanted her and how he walked in on them kissing each other. Thor listened to every word and kept his thoughts and questions to himself, letting Loki finish uninterrupted. After the story came to an end, he had to find the right words. Words and meanings were everything to Loki and he couldn’t mess this up. Not when Loki finally let him in.

When the silence endured Loki spoke first ‘You may take your leave now’ he grabbed one of his books and opened it halfway through.

‘What did (Y/N) say about all this?’ Thor asked, he wondered since he hadn’t heard anything about it.

‘We did not talk, I just left’ Loki said through gritted teeth.

‘And you haven’t had any contact with her since then?’ Thor asked.

‘No, weren’t you listening?’

‘Then how do you know if your version is true?’ he asked.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Loki asked.

‘If everything you say is true, then how do you know that she’s with Steve? That she loves him? I know her, and she was crazy about you. I just can’t believe that she would do this…’

‘I saw it’

Thor just chuckled a little ‘If there are two things I learned from growing up with you: one, pay very close attention to what you are actually saying and two, nothing is what is seems’

Loki smirked a little ‘That is because I’m a skilful sorcerer and the God of Lies’ then his smile faltered ‘It doesn’t matter anymore, this was all some time ago. By now she surely is with Steve, and I wish them a very unhappy life together’ he said while his attention shifted back to his book.

‘And what are you planning?’ Thor asked, remembering the words of his mother.

‘I may have thought about ways to kill Steve, but I’m not anymore. I’m just attending a party tonight. So, you can tell mother she’s worries for nothing’

‘It’s not like you to drink and attend parties. You always hated them’ Thor said a bit surprised.

‘Well yeah, but where else meet a girl for a night?’ Loki smirked.

‘Or you could come with me’ Thor said.

‘To where?’

‘Back to Midgard, to the Avengers. You can clear things up with (Y/N), because I’m not buying this story to be true. Plus, your still part of the team and can’t just leave whenever you feel like it’ Thor said.

‘No thanks’ Loki said.

‘Loki, you look like crap and knowing you, you probably feel worse. So, coming back can only improve your mood. If not, I promise I will let you attend ever party in Asgard and you can drink and fuck your problems away. But you will hate yourself if you didn’t at least hear her out’ Thor said angrily.

It took Loki aback a bit. He pondered over the question. ‘Why are you doing this?’ he then asked.

This took Thor aback. ‘Because you’re my brother and I want you to be happy’ he answered.

Loki clearly was struggling with not letting the emotion show on his face, Thor let him get away with it, it was what Loki needed at the moment.

‘But you don’t believe me?’ Loki asked after a while.

‘I do believe you, I just think there is more to the story. If it is the whole story we leave immediately, I promise’ Thor said.

‘Together?’ Loki asked.

‘Together, I got your back’ Thor confirmed. He got up and walked towards the exit of the library. He would have to prepare the journey to Midgard. He looked back when he heard Loki say ‘Thor… thanks brother’. Thor just smiled and nodded, but in his heart there was nothing but love for his little brother. Who, despite the way he could lash out, he loved very dearly and he knew that Loki cared about him, even if he didn’t always show it.

Back on Midgard The Bifrost opened and Thor and Loki stood in front of the familiar compound. Thor noticed that Loki used magic to make himself appear more together, but didn’t comment on it. The two of them walked in the tower. That’s when they heard Tony.

‘Thank God, latterly, that the two of you are finally here!’ he exclaimed.

‘Why, what’s wrong?’ Thor asked.

‘What’s wrong? (Y/N) is an absolute mess, she barely eats and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. I can’t believe you did that to her’ he looked accusingly at Loki.

‘I didn’t do anything, she was the one that kissed Steve’ Loki angrily replied.

‘Huh, what? You were the one that cheated on her. She broke when she found out about it’ Tony said.

Thor was confused. Yes, in the past Loki has betrayed the one’s he loved many times. But he always had a good reason, it was not like him to betray the woman he loved for a bit of fun.

‘WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?’ Loki snarled.

Tony grabbed his phone and showed them the video that Steve had showed him. It was Loki at some party in the compound, drinking and kissing with some other woman Thor didn’t recognize. Loki looked intently at the video. ‘That’s not me! How did you even get that?’ Loki asked.

‘Steve showed it to us’ Tony replied. While Loki was ranting on about Steve he and Tony started to discuss the realness of the video. Thor sneaked away and went in search of (Y/N). He knocked on her door, but there was no answer.

‘(Y/N), I’m coming in’ he said, hoping she was okay. He opened her room, which was still dark. (Y/N) lay under the covers, the air in the room didn’t smell fresh, and around her bed there were several empty bottles of wine.

‘(Y/N)?’ Thor asked. She suddenly turned around and faced him. She sat up straight. Thor could tell she had lost weight, probably from not eating. There were bags and dark circles under her eyes and her hair was greasy.

‘Leave’ she said angrily and Thor saw a hint of the fire that Loki used to love about her.

‘No, I think…’ but he was cut of by (Y/N) throwing an empty wine bottle towards him. It missed his head and broke against the wall, glass flying around the room. ‘LEAVE’ she half-yelled again.

‘I will leave when you talked to me, and I talked to you’ Thor said sternly. He looked her in her eyes, they seemed to be in some sort of staring contest. He could tell she was tired.

She sighed ‘Fine, but I don’t wan to hear a thing about your brother’ tears were already forming in her eyes.

‘Just tell me your version of events, and if it makes sense I promise that I will take Loki back to Asgard with me’ Thor said. Her eyes widened when she heard that Loki was here. For a moment she felt relieved, and wanted nothing more than to run towards him. Hoping he would wrap his arms around her and spin her around. But then she remembered the video Steve showed her about a month after Loki left. He tried to help her get over him, but it only made things worse.

When (Y/N) started to tell he story, Thor discovered that they didn’t add up, just as he expected. He couldn’t help but get angry at Steve for orchestrating this whole thing. He got so angry that a storm was brooding over the compound, something that hadn’t happen in a few hundred years. But now, he couldn’t control himself. He saw (Y/N) flinch when she heard the rumbling sound of thunder, but couldn’t help himself. She had finished her story and Thor was hallway through to explaining Loki’s version of it, when the door burst open.

Tony came running towards (Y/N) yelling ‘It’s deepfake, it’s deepfake!’ he was panting and couldn’t say anything more. That’s when he saw that (Y/N)’s eyes just notice done presence that was looming in the doorway, Loki.

Permanent taglist: @delightfulheartdream @the-best-phineas @pescadoavocado @theestorm @theaudacitytowrite @justacripple

People who definitely needed the story to continue/commented on the other chapter (hope you don’t mind me tagging you!): @onlyforloki @not-your-bitch @lovelokiqueen @unicorns105 @phenelopejoy @elliemustdraw @lokiestorch

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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