#dabs my forehead too

[bratzboykai]

My seasonal allergies need to chill the fuck out, I dont think hives are an additional reaction necessary to have over some fucking plant jizz!!!

[missdynamighttt]

using your boyfriend! katsuki bakugo's face to test out if your lipsticks are kiss-proof.

katsuki leaned back against the couch, a mix of annoyance and amusement flickering in his eyes as you're perched on his lap, armed with an array of lipsticks on the coffee table.

the array of tubes came in various shades of red, pink, beige and even orange gleamed under the light, and your grin was way too mischievous for his liking.

“this is stupid,” he grumbled, though he didn’t make any effort to push you away.

“no, this is science,” you teased with a grin, twisting open a tube of lipstick. “i need to test if these are actually kissproof, and who better to test on than my loving boyfriend?”

“remind me again why i agreed to this?” he asked dryly, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“because you love me. now sit still, and don’t wipe your face, no matter what.”

katsuki instinctively tensed, but before he could say anything, your lips pressed against his, leaving a bold red kiss mark.

you pulled back to inspect your work, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "hmm, not bad, but let’s see if it smudges.”

you lightly rubbed his lips off the kiss mark with your thumb, then grinned triumphantly when it smudged slightly.

“guess this one isn’t kissproof. let’s try another.”

“you’re just usin' this as an excuse to kiss me.”

“maybe,” you admitted, a sly smile tugging at your lips as you reached for another lipstick. “but you’re not complaining, are you?”

he opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off with another kiss, this time on his forehead. katsuki grumbled under his breath, but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusement.

one by one, you tested out each and every one of your lipsticks. you made sure to leave vibrant marks across his cheeks, his forehead, his jawline, and even the tip of his nose. each kiss mark was a different shade, creating a chaotic warm hue of affection on his face.

its only half way, and katsuki’s face was plastered in smudged kiss marks, and his patience was starting to run out.

“are you done yet?” he grumbled, watching you in the corner of his eye as you leaned in close, his tone exasperated but not entirely serious.

“shush,” you grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss against his cheek. you pulled back, studying the growing collection of kiss marks.

“okay, definitely not kissproof,” you said with a satisfied nod before reapplying another shade. he didn’t move as you kissed his jaw this time, leaving another bold lip mark. you pulled back, inspecting your work. “nope, not this one either. next!”

katsuki sighed, his patience wearing thin, but he stayed put, his hands resting on his thighs. “sweets... how many of these fuckin' things do you actually have?”

you ignored him, happily swiping on a soft pink shade next. you leaned in again, pressing your lips to the other side of his face. you pulled back, feigning disappointment. “ooh, not kissproof either. guess we keep going!”

“what a shame,” katsuki deadpanned, his voice dripping with sarcasm with the squeez of your hips, looking at you so affectionately.

but you weren't done yet.

you were intentionally avoided the tubes you knew were kissproof, prolonging the excuse to pepper his face with kisses. each time you left a print, you grinned, giggling as his face slowly became a canvas of lip marks in every imaginable shade—reds, pinks, beiges, and even a daring orange.

by the time you finally went through them all, katsuki’s face was an absolute mess of lipstick smudges. you dabbed on your first long-lasting formula lipstick, making sure it was a bright, bold red.

“this one’s supposed to be smudge-proof,” you said, leaning in close and planting a firm kiss above his neck. you pulled back, studying his skin. not a single smudge. there was nothing there—just the clean outline of his breath-takingly sharp jaw.

“huh. guess this one’s actually it."

but before you could grab a makeup wipe to start cleaning up, katsuki’s patience finally snapped. he grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer into his lap.

“oh, it’s kissproof, huh?” he muttered, his eyes narrowing with playful intensity.

you blinked, your cheeks heating up. “y-yeah, it is.”

“good. because you’re about to find out how kissproof it really is.”

but before you could protest, katsuki leaned in and kissed you deeply, his hands firm on your waist as he poured all his pent-up energy into the kiss.

he didn’t stop at one, either—he kissed your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, and down your jawline, his lips brushing against every inch of your skin he could reach.

you squeaked in surprise, trying and failing to squirm away as you dissolved into laughter. “k-katsuki, stop it!"

“you've been attackin' me all day,” he teased, nipping at your jaw lightly. “now it’s my turn.”

“katsuki, wait—” you started, but your words were cut off again as he kissed you firmly, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that made your head spin.

when he finally decided to pull back, your lips were slightly swollen, and your cheeks were flushed. your lipstick was still perfectly intact—proving it really was kissproof—but your face was flushed, and your laughter had turned into soft giggles.

“looks like it’s kissproof, alright,” he said, kissing down your cheek, then your jaw, then to your neck. again.

“katsuki!” you squealed, laughing as he peppered your face with kisses.

“fair’s fair. you got to mark me up, i'm just returnin' the favor.”

"uh-huh. you’re just looking for excuses to keep kissing me.”

“am not.” he argued, though his grin gave him away. “like you said. this is serious science, sweets.”

“fine. you win,” you said breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “but admit it—you secretly loved being my test dummy.”

katsuki smirked, brushing his nose against yours. “maybe. but only because it’s you.”

you smiled, leaning in to kiss him one last time. “you’re the best canvas ever.”

“and you’re the most annoyin' artist,” he shot back, pulling you close again. "but i love you anyway."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ saw this on twt and KNEW i needed to act on it.

[pseudowho]

"--and this is the staffroom," Gojo sing-songed, swinging open the door on your First Day Tour, with you a few steps behind him, "--ah! And that's Nanamin. Say hi, Nanamin!"

A tall, suited blond man looked up from his spot on the sofa as you peered in; at first, he simply nodded to you, disinterested. Then, Gojo spoke again while leading you out.

"--he's not very fun, don't worry-- no sense of humour."

Your final glimpse as the door closed, was of the blond man's irritated scowl.

It was true; Kento clearly didn't make people laugh, for he was either too mean or too subtle to be funny. This was the case, at least, until you. And you had no idea what your laughter did to him.

You had formed an alliance of respect, an easy bond that would have been camaraderie if not for Kento's standoffishness. You felt him hover nearby on joint missions, close enough to lunge to your rescue, but far enough that he could resist your magnetism.

Talking, and surveying the abandoned school, you spoke aloud as you walked down the stairs.

"So perhaps I'll take the East Wing, and you take the We--ergh!"

You reeled back, having walked headfirst into a buckled ceiling. Kento stepped to your aid, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, and lifting your chin to look at your forehead. He huffed, barely a puff of breath through his nose, wiping dust from your forehead before grumbling.

"You'll be alright. Not much in there, anyway."

You burst into laughter, and Kento electrified, absolutely rigid. You patted his chest, still giggling as you walked away, cooing back over your shoulder in a way that utterly melted him.

"So mean."

You soon learned that Nanami Kento was possibly the funniest man at Jujutsu High. Dry and unforgiving in a way that made your brittle colleagues crumble, you found yourself, instead, choking back laughter every time he crippled one with another savage put-down.

When Yuuji arrived late to a mission, Kento stepped over to him and, poe-faced, pulled up his shirtsleeve to show Yuuji his wrist.

"This," Kento hummed, flat, "is a watch. You can buy one at any good supermarket."

When a waiter slopped coffee over Kento's shoulder, Kento dabbed at it to the waiter's frantic, apologetic bowing. Kento raised a placating hand and insisted to the confused waiter.

"It's alright. I never liked this suit anyway."

When you stood at the staffroom window with him, watching a monsoon in companionable silence, Kento murmured over the rim of his mug.

"Lovely day."

He had timed it just-so, and barely concealed his lopsided smirk when you choked on your tea. Shoko walked in, drenched, looking at you and Kento in dismay. You coughed, opening your mouth to speak, but Kento got there first, firing shots.

"Is it raining?"

Shoko scoffed, sputtering, while you buckled against the windowsill.

Kento grabbed a hand towel and an umbrella, heading to the door. As Shoko reached for the towel, Kento pressed the umbrella into her hands instead, his expression flat, but his voice edged with a feral pleasure that made you come undone.

"You'll need this."

Kento's meanness was tempered only by his self-deprecation, and when you took as good as you gave, you felt his icey facade melt away completely, revealing such warmth.

It was no wonder you were drawn to each other, when the only reason neither of you laughed together, was because you were in a constant stand-off for who could remain poe-faced the longest. Kento always won.

Still, you felt the need to break him; you had cracked smiles, or the occasional chuckle out of him, but nothing more. You knew nothing more than the truest irony would do it.

The day came; you arrived, to your usual staffroom rendezvous, covered in blood. Kento paled, abandoning his book to rise immediately and reach you in three long strides.

"--you're hurt-- we'll go to Sho--"

"Kento. Stop. It's not my blood-- it's Gojo's."

Kento did a double-take, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, so you explained.

"Gojo invited himself to teach me about Curses that are 'above my paygrade', so he took me to one. I told him this Curse was clearly more powerful than it looked, and Gojo told me to step back so he could handle it. Said he'd even do it without his Infinity on. So I stepped back."

Kento's nose flared, barely perceptible.

"...and?"

You took a deep breath. "So, Gojo has a broken nose--"

Kento broke down with a wheeze, before bursting into a rich, deep rolling laughter that split the clouds with sun. His hands clasped the windowsill, his eyes crinkled, and his shoulders shook with wicked, throaty mirth.

You felt yourself becoming drunk off him, utterly intoxicated by his laughter. Kento couldn't stop himself, trembling with schadenfreude to the point of indecency.

Finally, sighing and straightening as if exhausted, Kento wiped his eyes with the side of his finger, and smiled at you with sweet adoration. Laughter still threatened to break through as he begged you.

"Would you-- would you like to go out for dinner? With me?"

You paused, your expression pained.

"Ah...no. No, thank you."

Kento froze, his face beginning to fall. You looked down at yourself, and announced, still deadpan.

"It's just-- I'm covered in blood, you see--"

That sent Kento over the edge again.

You remained content throughout the years of your marriage, for Nanami Kento to be viewed by others as boring and humourless. You found yourself jealously greedy of his rare laughter, anyway.

After marriage, you viewed it as the highest badge of honour to make him laugh like that while he was buried inside you.

[rueclfer]

piercer boyfriend touya who insists that he'll stay home while you go out with your friends and will stay up (despite your protests) for you to come home and help you get ready for bed.

he's expecting you to get home drunk. messy drunk. he's known you long enough to know that "just two drinks," is never. just. two. drinks.

he couldn't give less of a fuck about you sleeping in your makeup or wearing your outside clothes in bed, but trust that he will be cleaning those semi-healed piercings that he had done for you when you first started seeing each other.

tonight he's having trouble keeping you still.

"i wanna go to bed," you drunkenly mumble, squirming on the seat of the toilet and pulling away from his touch.

"not yet." touya responds, keeping your head steady with a gentle grip on your jaw, and with his other hand, dabbing a wound wash solution soaked q-tip across the shell of your ear.

your eyes trail down to where his hand makes contact with your face. you were an inch away from being able to bite down on the skin between his thumb and index finger and you knew it wouldn't be a proper night out if you didn't mildly annoy touya at least once.

"don't think about being a little shit right now," he breaks the silence.

you groan, "i still have to take off my makeup. just leave it, i'll clean them in the morning."

"who told you to get 3 piercings within a week?"

"stop it." you pout. "that was when i was blinded by love, i couldn't help it."

touya's focus turns to you, slightly tilting your head up to face him where you see a smirk grow on his lips.

"so it was love at first sight, huh?" he inches closer to you, almost grazing his lips against yours.

"or maybe it was the free piercings?"

a flash of annoyance crosses his face as he rolls his eyes, but the smirk doesn't leave. he closes the gap between you and firmly press his lips against yours. his hand slides down to the column of your neck. it pushes you back against the tank of the toilet, it takes the air out of you, and it leaves you feeling dizzy.

he pulls away and you're breathless for a moment as he presses a quicker and gentler kiss to your forehead and tilt your head to the side, finishing up with your right ear.

"can you help me take off my makeup too? and help me change into jammies?" you quietly murmur as the tip of your ears grow red.

"uh huh. anything else?" he breathes out a chuckle.

"never leave me and love me forever?"

touya would never admit it, but he loves it when you get like this after a few drinks. you're syrupy sweet, clingy, and knows exactly what you want. he can't help but feel a bit weak.

"done and done."

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

angel (or devil)

❝Because the devil, too, was once an angel.❞

one night stand! au | smut | 4.2k words

s u m m a r y : when your friends drag you to a nightclub, all you want to do is run away. that is when a boy with light, silvery curls and a hypnotic smile offers an escape, and you think you have found your angel in disguise. his intentions with you, though, are anything but saintly.

c o n t e n t : this is literally just filth nothing else, seungcheol has silver hair, he is in that exact fuck ass white outfit from that concert (you know which one), too many angel and devil references, seungcheol is an arrogant ass, reader is low-key a brat, dirty talk galore, fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid like these mfs), lowkey choking kink, eventual orgasming, cheol has a big cock (everybody act surprised)

p l a y l i s t : angel by the weeknd || acquainted by the weeknd

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e : i wrote this in one sitting my god this is so unedited…. thank u to alice for believing i could write pwp thank u to the weeknd for his horny ass songs and fuck you 230709 cheol this is what you’ve made me… i literally have no words…. so sleep deprived… anyway pls do enjoy the horny musings and thank u for reading </3

YOU HAD NEVER BELIEVED IN THE EXISTENCE OF ANGELS.

You had always considered it religious fanatics, glorified myths to lure the naive populations to believe in things that would harm them in the future. The idea of angels to you was sweet, but unsatisfactory, a religious relic that should have stayed in history. 

Angels were a myth long dismissed until you saw the boy with the silver curls.

Keep reading

[ssahotchnerr]

possible idea for married hotch since you asked for requests😋 (and cause i love your writing)

maybe one where he gets injured and with the rest of the bau he’s just brushing it off but when wifey pulls up? different story.

he’s just all 🥺🥺 at her and the team is like wtaf?

also can i be 🌊 anon pretty please?

healing touches

i love that 🥺🥺🤕 cw; bau fem!reader, established relationship (hehe they're soooo in love), injury/blood descriptions, aaron being stubborn🙄, playful banter, fluff <333

The first SUV arrived back at the police department after apprehending the unsub. Morgan, JJ and Prentiss walked inside, pulling their vests off in sync.

You might have been mistaken, but their gazes immediately locked onto you as they removed their protective gear. Their stares were almost unsettling, as if they knew something you didn’t, and were waiting to see the rest unfold. Unease filled you from head to toe.

"Hey," you stacked a few files together, placing them down. "How'd it go? Did you get him?"

"Yeah, 'course we did." Morgan sauntered over, dropping his vest onto the table with a thud.

"Well," Emily added, a slight grimace on her face. "Not without putting up a relentless fight. It wasn't pretty, I'll tell you that."

A bad feeling formed in your gut. Even Spencer's attention was gained, his head lifting from his book.

"What do you me-"

Your words were interrupted by Aaron and JJ walking in. JJ, perfectly fine. Aaron on the other hand, was moving at a much slower speed than normal, definitely banged up with a fair amount of blood present on his face.

Your eyes widened in alarm, meeting him halfway.

"Oh my god, Aaron. Are you okay?" You immediately unstrapped his vest for him, tucking it under your arm. The lessening pressure seemed to help some, light tension lifting from his body.

Your hand raised to cup his jaw, moving it gently to observe the damage. There was definitely a developing bruise underneath his right eye, his forehead and cheek were both littered with scrapes of all shapes and sizes. Aaron winced when his head reached a particular angle, and it wasn't a subtle wince either. It was a startling jolt, agonizing pain obvious.

But it was at your touch, and your presence, that his eyes softened. The stagnant sharpness dissolving as he looked at you with a tenderness that was almost too raw to hide. You pulled back to get a better look at him as whole, ensuring he was fully intact.

"He's 'fine', in case you were wondering. Only told us 'bout a million times." Morgan added air quotes, sitting down and kicking his feet onto the table. "Refused medical attention, even."

"Manners." You swatted his foot, causing him to lower them before turning back to Aaron. You tutted at him softly, "You did? After that lil stunt you just pulled?"

"Well... I guess it is starting to hurt more now."

"I wonder why," JJ commented humorously under her breath, hiding her smile with her palm. Additionally, Emily and Derek gave him a look.

You quickly reached into your bag, riffling through it until you found your handy tube of Neosporin. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

Aaron didn't argue, didn't utter a single word as he followed you to the bathroom like a lost puppy. Once inside the small space you maneuvered him back against the sink, washing your hands next.

"That was stupid of you." You wet a paper towel, dabbing his cuts and ridding of any dry blood, once again causing him to flinch at the touch. You pulled the towel away, pausing a moment, before resuming gently. "Even if you think you're not in need of getting checked out, please do, for my sake at least. I'd like my husband to stay in one piece if possible."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"We were clearing the grounds and he managed to catch me by surprise," Aaron huffed out, evidently annoyed at himself. "I should have seen it coming. Seen him in the shadows, reacted faster."

"Baby, you may think you have the invincibility of Superman, but you don't. You're human, it's okay to miss things every once and a while." You reassured him softly, tossing the towel aside and moving onto the Neosporin. After dabbing some onto your index finger, you began blotting it thoroughly onto the cuts. "Which I'm fine with, by the way, you're much better looking."

"Yeah?" A laugh escaped Aaron, but his chuckle was interrupted by the twinge in his ribcage, the entirety of it shooting up in pain.

"I'm sorry," you gasped gently, guilt sweeping through you.

"It's fine, 'm fine." He breathed out through his teeth, his jaw clenching momentarily, until the pain subsided. "I'm okay sweetheart. Now c'mon, your face is far too pretty to look that worried."

Your eyebrows were furrowed, eyes frantically searching his face.

"Really. So I'm a little bruised up, I've been through far worse."

You sighed, not entirely convinced. "Fine. But when we get home tomorrow," your eyes narrowed slightly, pointing the Neosporin at him as a 'threat'. "You're resting. Come hell or high water."

"Deal."

"I'm happy you're okay." Suddenly emotional, tears dared to spill from your eyes. They stalled at your waterline, completely blurring your vision. You hated to see him in pain, and the reminder of past events didn't help. "Don't scare me like that."

"C'mere," Aaron raised his arms, gesturing for you to come close.

"I don't want to hurt you-"

"Come here."

You took a step forward, not raising your arms to potentially inflict pain, but rest your body against his. Your face found home in the crook of his neck, while his arms did wrap around you. Not as tight as usual, but enough to hold you and not hurt.

"I'm fine," he kissed the side of your head. "And I have my girl to thank for that. Although, you did miss a spot."

"I did? Where?" You pulled back, beginning to unscrew the tube's cap but Aaron's hand stopped you.

"Right here." He pointed to his lips, playing up the 'anguish' in his eyes. "Hurts real bad."

Your lips tugged into a smile, leaning in and offering him a short, sweet kiss.

"That's all I get?"

You playfully rolled your eyes before giving his lips another quick kiss. He chased your lips, but you pulled back, keeping just out of reach.

"Want a longer one? Get medical attention next time."

[cuntyji]

friday night i came home drunk with no one to do this for me….that doesn’t mean i let my three fans on tumblr suffer 😙

there are nights when you come home with eyeliner smudged like war paint and lipstick somewhere up by your nose, which is impressive, considering your mouth isn’t located there. the heels come off by the door, the clutch gets tossed halfway across the living room (you’ll find it tomorrow, under the couch, somehow full of mints and regret), and you announce yourself with all the grace of a tornado.

“i’m home!” you declare. “someone left the world spinning. i’ll deal with them tomorrow.”

and then, like a summoned spirit, nanami appears from the hallway. robe on. sleeves rolled. hair slightly tousled like he ran a hand through it exactly once. jaw clenched in mild judgment, but eyes warm. concerned. so deeply, unfairly fond.

“you’ve been drinking,” he says, flatly.

“i’ve been possessed by a fun-loving ghost, actually,” you say, kicking off your last shoe with the precision of a sniper. it nearly decapitates a houseplant. “she likes cosmos. and bad decisions.”

he sighs. the way a saint sighs when faced with humanity. then crosses the room and catches you by the wrist before you can wander into the coffee table again. “sit. i’ll get the cotton pads.”

your butt is parked on the edge of the bed before you can protest. nanami is already crouched in front of you, all business, like you’re a project plan that needs reorganizing. makeup remover in hand. focused. deadly.

“close your eyes.”

“are you gonna kiss me?”

“no.”

“rude.”

he dabs gently at your face with a practiced hand, eyes narrowed in concentration. like he’s handling something fragile. sacred, even. the silence is soft, padded by the sound of a cotton pad swiping over your skin and the faint piano playlist playing from his phone on the nightstand.

“you got glitter on your temples again,” he murmurs. “why does it always end up here?”

“the ghost likes shimmer.”

another sigh. he presses a fresh pad to your cheek, hand warm under your jaw to steady you. the gentleness is unfair. he’s unfair. then comes the micellar water, the double cleanse, the toner. he pats your face dry with a towel you didn’t even see him grab. and then—

“essence, serum, moisturizer,” he mutters under his breath, unscrewing the caps with the reverence of someone defusing a bomb.

“you know the order,” you say, genuinely impressed, genuinely touched.

“of course. last time i mixed them up, you said your forehead ‘felt crunchy.’”

“it did.”

he dips his fingers into the moisturizer and begins to smooth it along your cheekbones in slow, upward strokes. thumb brushing the curve of your jaw. his face is close now. focused. devastating. god.

“if you keep this up, i might marry you,” you mumble.

he pauses. cocks an eyebrow. “i already submitted the paperwork. you signed it when you were half-asleep and thought it was a form to adopt a cat.”

“…oh. that explains the paw print.”

“it was cute. i kept it.”

you’re too tired and too full of him to even pretend to be mad. you lean forward until your forehead presses into his shoulder, breathing in the clean linen and sandalwood scent of him.

he presses a kiss to the top of your head and whispers, “next time, text me before the ghost starts drinking.”

“no promises.”

he sighs again. but he’s smiling now.

[sangwookisser]

WICKED GAMES | THANOS

cw: manager! reader, rapper! thanos, fwb but thanos wants you real bad, pre-squid game! au, flirting, teasing, suggestive comments and innuendo, female reader, no use of y/n, oral sex, unprotected sex, thanos cums in his pants, 18+, MDNI

synopsis: thanos never meant to catch feelings for his cold, no-nonsense manager he’s been hooking up with.

You were sat beside Thanos at his kitchen island, your fingers scrolling on your iPad as you flitted through your calendar, which included all of his important appointments for the month as well as your own.

Your posture was as rigid and straight as your tone as you spoke about his upcoming tour. For work.

That’s what tonight was. Work.

You scheduled a dinner date with him, which he suggested take place at his luxury home, hoping that it would be intimate and personal, and yet like always, you'd gone straight to business from the moment you sat down at the countertop.

He watched your lips move as you spoke, barely processing the words leaving your mouth. He was more focused on the softness, the fullness of your lips. How they looked stained red from the wine you were drinking.

He had kissed them before. And you had let him. More than once.

His fingers curled against the glass. "…so if you want to switch up the setlist—are you even listening?" He blinked, tilting his head.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm listening."

You gave him a sharp look, unimpressed. "Then tell me what I just said."

His mouth quirked. You were always like this. So put-together, so untouchable, so fucking cold; except for the nights you weren’t.

The nights where you let him press you into the walls of hotel rooms and penthouses just like this, where you gasped against his mouth and dug your nails into his back and let him ruin you.

You'd let him fuck you stupid on his cock until you were an incoherent mess, your neat hair spread out under you and your lipstick smudged onto your chin, with the remainder of it on his mouth.

Then, in the morning, you always pretended it never happened. Always leaving first without a single word, even when it was in your apartment.

He was too busy imagining the different positions he could put you in if you just loosened up for two seconds to notice that you were still waiting for a response. Thanos exhaled through his nose, smiling innocently.

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head before taking another sip of wine, your throat working as you swallowed. His fingers tightened around his glass.

"You never focus," you sighed, shifting in your chair. "If you actually paid attention instead of zoning out...

"Maybe I wouldn’t zone out if you weren’t so fucking boring," he cut in, his voice lazy, rough.

That got a reaction. Your expression barely shifted, but he caught the faintest flicker in your eyes, annoyance.

Good. He liked when he got to you.

"I'm not boring. I just know how to organize my priorities. In case you haven't noticed, your life would be a mess without me." You say, your voice clipped.

"You're right about that, actually." He grinned, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "Who else could fuck me as good as you? I can't find a replacement for your pussy."

He saw the flicker of your gaze, the way your throat worked as you swallowed, the subtle shift in your breathing. Your cheeks were a blazing pink with anger and embarrassment. He liked when you weren't being a robot for two seconds and felt something for him.

Whether it was want and anticipation for your next time in bed together, or a flicker of care, like back when he had gotten sick after a show in Busan.

When you had been the one hovering in his doorway, your eyes softened and your brows furrowed together in quiet concern. When you had sat next to him and dabbed sweat off his forehead with a warm towel and held his hand.

He had never brought it up.

You would have denied it anyway.

"Anyway." He broke the silence, leaning closer to you. "You were talking about stage lights?" You scoff and shake your head, staring at him disbelievingly.

"I wasn't talking about stage lights, Su bong." You snap at him, getting annoyed at him by this point.

You lean back slightly so he's not in your face, and the movement causes your breasts to bounce in a way he can't look away from.

Thanos’ smirk widened as he shamelessly stared, his dark eyes fixed on your chest before trailing up to your lips again. He shifted his hand up to your knee.

"You lean back like that again," he murmured, his fingers sliding up the fabric of your skirt just a little, barely touching the skin of your thigh, "and I might think you’re trying to play games with me."

You inhaled sharply, your spine straightening at the contact, but you didn’t push him away. You never did, and that’s why he kept testing you. Kept touching you, kept pushing just a little further every time.

You gave him a sharp look, clearly unimpressed. "Watch it."

"And you're a delusional little tease," he shot back immediately, grinning as his fingers curled against your thigh, kneading the soft flesh. "Seriously, you ever get tired of pretending you don’t want me? 'Cause it’s getting a little old, princess."

You scoffed and shifted in your seat, but that only made his grip tighten. His other hand slid under your stool, pulling you in much closer.

"Enough, Su. You always do this," you said with exasperation, grabbing both his wrists and setting them on his lap. He merely laughed and grabbed your waist once more with his big hands.

"Do what?" he grinned, leaning in so his lips brushed against your ear. "Tell you how sexy you are? My sweet little manager. Sometimes I think you might hate me."

"Don't be ridiculous." You shot back, pushing some hair out of your eyes and shaking your head with frustration. "Now, can we please foc-"

"I'm ridiculous? You're the one who gets onto me every time we're alone and let me fuck your sloppy little pussy." His fingers flexed against your waist, voice dropping into that flirtatious tone that he knew made your stomach tighten.

"Stop it." You repeat, your face too warm for your liking. You hate the way you can't seem to control yourself around him. You wanted him to shut up so you could focus and finally accomplish something without ending up bouncing on his cock.

Ever since you'd indulged him for the first time, it feels impossible for you two to be around each other without this happening.

His hand slid from your waist up to your jaw, fingers tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away from him. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, his eyes flickering down to your mouth, full of heat and intent.

"You think about it, don’t you?" he continued. "When you’re alone at night. You touch yourself and think about me, huh?"

Your nails dug into your palm, lips pressing together. He liked your little pouts. They were so cute. He liked to catch you off guard and press your lips against his quite often when you were sulking, and you were afraid he'd do it now. "Stop it now, Su-bong. I won't ask again."

He only grinned wider. "Ohhh, you do." He squeezed your thigh again, mocking you now. His free hand pushed his thumb firmer on your lips. "Knew it."

You jerked your head away, pushing at his stupid, handsome face. That seemed to goad him on, however, and his hands hooked around your waist, tugging you forward so your knees hit his. Your balance wavered, and your hands landed flat on his chest. You could feel his heart pounding.

His fingers trailed up the curve of your spine, slow and deliberate, until they tangled into the hair at the nape of your neck. He grinned as he gave it a slight tug, forcing your head back just enough for him to drop his mouth closer to yours.

Your breath fanned against his lips, warm and quick.

"You always leave me hanging, pretty baby," he said softly, slotting his mouth over yours but not kissing you just yet. And he called you the tease. "Why don’t you stick around this time?"

Your lips parted. For a split second, he thought you’d let him win. But then you blinked, your expression shuttering. Your hands flattened against his chest, firm now, pushing him back.

Thanos let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "You're impossible, you know that?"

You scowled, slamming a hand down on the counter to shut him up. "Do you even understand how important this tour is? You do this every time. You don’t take anything seriously until the last second, and then I’m the one running around fixing your mess. And you think it’s funny-"

He cuts you off by groaning loudly and picking you up by your waist, lifting you onto the counter in one smooth motion.

Your breath hitched in shock, your hands gripping his shoulders as your thighs instinctively parted to accommodate the space he took up between them.

Your heart was pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. It felt like it was echoing through your whole body. He got right in your face, his hands gripping your hips, holding you there. His breath was warm against your lips, his voice low and strained.

"God, you are so fucking bossy."

You blinked, thrown off for just a second. But then your hands pushed against his chest, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. "Excuse me?"

"Bossy. Annoying. Nagging." His nose scrunched up, his fingers pressing into your waist. "So fucking uptight. All you ever do is bark orders at me."

"Because you never listen!"

He frowned, beginning to unbutton your blouse. You couldn't find it in yourself to stop him. "Shut up." He muttered, his hands hooking around your body to take off your bra as well, letting your tits spill out. He sighed out loud and marveled at them, big hand grabbing onto the mounds and squeezing. he flicked your left nipple with the pad of his thumb.

"Mm!" You choke out, squirming against his wandering hand. "Su, l-listen," You mewled out his name desperately, writhing as his free hand palmed at your clothed pussy under your skirt.

“You can take it, princess,” he murmured. “Open your legs.”

You obliged, and his eyes lit up at the soft, damp patch forming on your panties. He groaned and tugged your panties down your legs, pressing open mouthed kisses to the column of your throat to distract you from him stuffing them into his pocket.

His mouth traveled lower, licking at your nipple sucking on the soft bud before transitioning to the other, his lips hot on the soft, plump flesh of your breast.

He's sure to kiss around the nipple and suck on your skin enough to leave marks, his teeth indenting your skin just hard enough for you to cry out.

"Ngh, s-stop m-messing around," you warned.

"Why should I? That's not how we work, princess. You're not in charge right now."

You frowned, squirming slightly. You're unable to keep your moans at bay, and you can't help but find the sounds he's making while sucking on your tits embarrassing. However, he didn't stop.

His hands kneaded your breasts, thumbs and fingers sinking into the pliant mounds as he lavished attention on each nipple in turn. He licked and sucked, his tongue tracing the curve of your areola, his teeth nipping at the tender skin. Your back arched, pressing your chest further into his eager mouth, craving more of his touch, his heat.

Moaning softly, he continued his assault on your breasts, the obscene sound of his suckling and slurping filling the room. His fingers tugged and rolled your nipples, the dual sensations of pain and pleasure blending into a heady mix that made your head spin.

As he finally released your spit-slick nipples, he kissed a trail down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel. He licked and tasted every inch of your exposed skin, his hands mapping the curves of your waist and hips, the flare of your thighs. Your skin burned under his touch, your body aching and eager for his caress.

He got on his knees, reaching the apex of your thighs. Thanos hesitated momentarily, his breath hot against your pussy. He inhaled deeply, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. "Fuck, you smell amazing," he kissed your inner thigh. "Been waiting to see her weeks now. You keep ignoring me and playing hard to get, princess. I'm tired of it."

He nipped at your thigh, and you squealed when he bit down on the pudgy flesh, smoothing his tongue over the blossoming red welt on your skin.

Not wasting any time, Thanos dove in, his mouth covering your pussy in a broad stroke. His tongue parted your folds, delving into your slick heat, tasting your essence. He groaned against your flesh, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider, opening you further to his greedy mouth. He licked and sucked, his tongue circling your clit before flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked, seeking more of his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.

"S-slow down!" You cry out as his nose bumps against your clit, and he shoves his face fully into your cunt, lapping at your folds so eagerly that he started to drool. His cock strained against his pants with excitement, and he growled lowly into your pussy. "Hold still, stupid," He murmured, grabbing your thighs and spreading them as far as they could go.

You pant, your head lolling back. He slides one of his hands into yours to keep you upright, while his other moves between your legs as he sucks on the sopping folds of your pussy, shoving a finger deep inside.

With a scream, your legs begin to shake and you try to move back so you dont gush all over his face, but he drags you forward by your hip, his finger gliding easily through your slick arousal. "Stop running away from me. Stay put or ill get the ropes," He threatened, pushing his finger up against your sweet spot.

"N-no! Ngh... I'm cumming! Please, it's too much," Your begging comes with soft whines as your eyes fill with shiny tears, and he moans against your pussy, rutting his fat, drooling cock against the leg of one of the stools desperately.

Your walls clenched around his invading finger, gripping the thick digit tightly.

Pleasure coiled taut in your tummy, your body wound tight like a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment. Drool dripped down his chin as he ate you out almost reverently, the obscene sound of his suckling and slurping filling the kitchen.

The counter beneath you grew slick with your juices, a testament to your overwhelming arousal. He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, your breath coming in sharp gasps and pants as he pushed you closer and closer to your peak.

You weakly cry out his name while leaning back and dropping your body onto the countertop, your orgasm coming crashing down hard as he continued to eat your pussy through it. That was all it took for him to finish in his pants, cumming in his boxers hard.

Your vision went white, stars exploding behind your eyelids as pure, unadulterated bliss consumed your every sense, until finally, with a shuddering sigh, your body went limp and pliant against the countertop.

He leaned back, his chin covered in your juices. He didn't bother to wipe his chin, standing up and pulling down the zipper of his soaked pants. "Look what you made me do, princess," he tutted.

You lifted your head just enough to see his cock slap against his chest as he tugs off his shirt, though your vision was hazy. He gently pushed you back, one hand going around your throat loosely as he positioned his flushed, swollen tip with your sopping pussy.

You're hypersensitive from your recent orgasm, and as the hot, hard flesh of his cock sears into your tender pussy, you try to sit up. He pushes you back down immediately, causing your lashes to flutter and your head to reel. "Su, ungh, please." He coos at your cries, his grip on your throat tightening to give you a minor distraction from the feeling of him beginning to stretch out your gummy walls.

You sob weakly, scratching at his wrist lightly with your nails. He hisses lightly, pushing into you some more. It felt like his length was never ending. It was just him pushing... pushing... pushing... he dragged you back to him by your neck so your ass was right against his pelvis, and he stared down at your fucked out expression as you squeezed his wrist.

"What, princess? Tapping out so soon? Thats not fair. I earned this." He thrusted forwards, and you moan out, your back arching off the counter.

You could feel his mushroom tip pressing flat against your soft cervix from how close you were and how far deep he was inside you.

You were gone, on the other hand. Eyes drenched with tears, drool running down your chin, and your face burning hotly. "You wanna know why, beautiful?"

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, his cock kissing your cervix. "Y-you, anh... keep acting like you're too good for me. Like... fuck," he almost trailed off, getting caught up in how hot and tight and soaked you were inside, but he shook his head and tried to focus.

He wanted you to understand how he felt.

"Haah, y-you always... f-fuckin' ignore me and act like I don't mean anything to you." he rocks into you deeper, his hand tight around your throat, keeping you dizzy and dazed, but not enough for it to be uncomfortable.

He dragged his hips back slowly, leaving you momentarily empty, before he quickly thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you in one swift, hard stroke. A cry tore from your throat at the sudden, intense sensation of being so utterly filled, stretched wide around his girth. 

"S-shit, mmh, y-you show up, you..." He swallows, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "...you wreck me, and then you just leave. Like it’s nothing."

He began to move more consistently, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you, before slamming forward again, burying himself balls-deep in your clutching heat.

Each thrust pushed you up the counter, your breasts bouncing obscenely. "Su, s-su!" You scream, your pussy tight around his cock. He grunted, setting a hard, driving rhythm, the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the kitchen.

He kept going, moaning each time his cock impaled you, stretching you so full that you couldn't think. You were getting fucked so dumb, and his hand around your throat wasn't helping. He frowned, fucking you harder. You weren't listening to him, like usual.

He lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “God, I like you.” The words come out in a rush, like they’ve been clawing at his throat, forcing their way free. "I like you so much. You l-let me f-fucking slut you out, but you won't see me."

He angled his hips to hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust, sending bolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. Your pussy clenched and spasmed around his pistoning cock, dripping with your arousal. "I d-do see you, mmh, I l-like you too Su!" You wail, panting. "I d-do, I... ohmygod, ngh, Su, please, f-fuck me,"

He lets out a huff of air through his nose, slapping your cheek lightly to keep you present. He's over the moon with the knowledge that his feelings are reciprocated, and his stomach flutters with happiness. " 'S exactly what I'm doing, stupid." He murmurs, before yanking your hips up, plunging hard into your dripping, puffy cunt.

Gripping your cheeks hard enough to bruise, he shoved his cock back in, driving even deeper into your core than before. "Like you so fucking much, princess, God."

Your pussy gushed and squelched obscenely with each forceful pump of his hips, the wet sounds mixing with your escalating cries as you milk his cock dry. He shoved his lips onto yours, taking your hands into his. His cock jerked and throbbed inside you, coating your insides with ropes of his hot load, his thick cum feeling creamy and heavy as it filled your womb

He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he ground against you, making sure every last drop of his cum was seated deep inside your fluttering hole.

A scream of pure ecstasy tore from your throat, your inner muscles spasming and gushing around him as you came hard. Your vision went white, stars exploding behind your eyelids as wave after wave of pleasure hit you.

He dropped himself on top of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and murmuring how you wouldn't be leaving him in the morning when he was done with you.

[em-ontv]

Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.

[wosospacegirl]

Found, accidentally - Aggie Beever-Jones

Summary: Y/n is recovering from a concussion. Aggie is trying to play it cool. The Arsenal girls think Y/n’s missing. One accidental clue, one suspicious jacket, and one aggressively opened door later… the secret’s out.

Warnings: mentions of concussion recovery, chaotic teammates, light angst, soft girlfriends <3

Word count: 4.7k

Notes: This is a sequel to this fic, but you can read it as a standalone.

MASTERLIST

..

Y/n had gotten a nasty concussion just the other day during a match against Chelsea. 

She’d smacked her head into the goalpost so hard she’d needed stitches–six, to be exact–a trophy for winning the Subway Women’s Super League, and, most importantly, several kisses from her very secret girlfriend–who just so happened to play for Chelsea–after being discharged from the hospital.

Y/n woke up with Aggie nudging her arm. She was ready to groan and ignore it, but then she smelled fresh eggs and toast.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly, barely able to see Aggie through her heavy eyelids.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Aggie said, sing-songy. She placed the tray on the bed and cupped Y/n's cheek, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Hm, I’m tired,” Y/n mumbled, leaning into her touch.

“From what?” Aggie tilted her head like she was actually thinking about it. “From hitting your head, getting stitches, staying six hours at the hospital or from not sleeping the whole night because there was a chance you might die from the concussion?”

Y/n let her body fall back onto the mattress. “You said too many words.”

“Come on, sit back up,” Aggie said, nudging her again. “You need to eat something. The last thing you had were chips.”

“Not hungry,” Y/n said, turning onto her side with her head buried in the pillow. “I’m nauseous.”

“The doctors said that’s normal,” Aggie said. 

Y/n blinked. “They did?”

“You don’t remember?” Aggie’s voice softened. “That bad, huh?”

Y/n ignored her, choosing to keep her eyes closed…maybe she could take a little nap.

“...But you still need to eat,” Aggie said, interrupting Y/n’s peace.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Shut up. When you talk, my head hurts…and you never stop talking.”

“Okay, rude,” Aggie scoffed, rolling her eyes. She reached over and gently turned Y/n back around. “Just a few bites of the egg? Please?”

Y/n shook her head, eyes still shut.

Aggie sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you’re eating later.”

“Way later. Like when I don’t feel like my insides are upside down.”

“No, later–like in half an hour, tops,” Aggie said, no room for argument.

She disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a first aid kit. “If you’re not eating, at least let me clean your stitches.”

“No.”

“You do realise patience isn’t one of my amazing qualities, right?”Aggie said flatly.

“Yes,” Y/n replied, not missing a beat. “But being pretty is.”

Aggie paused. “Okay, I forgive you for being a pain.”

“Hm,” Y/n muttered. “Can’t blame me. I’ve barely slept. You kept me up all night–and not even in a fun way.”

“And you kept me up all night doing concussion checks,” Aggie said. “So we’re both tired. Which means you should stop being annoying and let me clean your face and feed you.”

Y/n groaned again but sat up slowly, sitting on the bed again. “Now you’re making me feel guilty.”

Aggie smirked. “If it makes you behave, I don’t mind.”

There was a beat of quiet as Aggie gently dabbed around her stitches.

 “How did I get there?” she asked, sitting cross-legged on Aggie’s bed while the other girl carefully tended to the wound on her forehead.

Aggie didn’t look up. “Get where?”

“The hospital.”

Aggie squinted, her lips pursed in concentration as she dabbed the wound with damp cotton. “Relax your face.”

“I am relaxed!” Y/n insisted, wincing.

“No, you’re not.” Aggie huffed, pressing her finger between Y/n’s eyebrows to smooth the tension. “See?”

“Ow, okay, you’re right.”

“Always am,” Aggie said, continuing the cleaning.

“You didn’t answer about the hospital”

“Oh, well.. Luis took you to get scans and some other exams,” Aggie said, switching cotton balls. “You both thought it’d be quick. Then the doctor said you almost had a brain bleed, so they made you stay for six hours.”

Y/n blinked. “And then you came.”

Aggie smiled faintly. “Then I came for my girlfriend, yes.”

“It’s so weird,” Y/n muttered. “I remember hitting the post, then Leah’s face talking to me, then you showing up at the Arsenal bench, and… nothing really after that.”

“My poor baby,” Aggie cooed, “got brain-damaged.”

“Shut up,” Y/n groaned. “I’m gonna buy Luis a gift basket or something.”

“You should buy me a present!” Aggie said, poking her. “I literally didn’t sleep last night because I had to make sure you were still breathing.”

Y/n snorted. “Your present is my company for the last twenty-four hours.”

 Aggie leaned in close, a smirk on her face. “I return it.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Rude.”

Aggie grinned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She pulled back, tucking the damp cotton back into the kit after Y/n’s cut seemed clean enough. 

There was a beat of silence as she fiddled with the hem of Y/n’s shirt, her lips were tight together, as if she was thinking of something cautiously. 

Then, Aggie said softly, “You know what else was rude?”

“What?” Y/n said, head tilted to the side.

“Your teammates.”

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked as Aggie started to play with her fingers, her touch warm against her skin.

“They just… ran off to celebrate like you hadn’t cracked your head open two minutes earlier,” Aggis replied, jaw slightly tensed. “I didn’t like that.”

Y/n blinked slowly, not quite sure of how to respond.

 “I get it. Big match, title on the line, everyone’s buzzing. But it’s not like you twisted an ankle.” Aggie kept going, her voice was low, but steady. “You were on the ground, not moving. Six stitches, Y/n.”

“Luis was with me,” Y/n said again, quietly.

“And Lotte showed up for, like, thirty seconds,” Aggie added, her tone sharper than before. “Then she was gone. And don’t even get me started on the rest. You were in the hospital, in pain, and it was like no one even noticed.”

“Luis said they were asking for me on the group chat, they just thought it wasn't serious at the beginning–”

“But it was,” Aggie cut in, “You were concussed, confused–when I went to the bench, you were almost falling asleep. And they barely checked on you.”

Y/n sat there, stunned by the heat in her voice. She didn’t know what to say.

Aggie sighed and rubbed her forehead, as if she was trying to get the frustration out of her head.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to get like that.”

She glanced up at Y/n, her voice softer now. “I think I’m projecting. I just... didn’t like it. It made me mad.”

“It’s normal, though,” Y/n said, voice quiet. “It was an important game. The win mattered to the club, and, yeah, I got a concussion and all that, but I had someone on my side.”

“I just think...” she started, then trailed off. “I think they could’ve shown up for you–”

“–because I couldn’t and well, I can’t”.  Aggie looked up, meeting Y/n’s eyes with a tight, half-hearted smile. “Not in front of everyone.”

Y/n blinked. Her heart twisted at the way Aggie said it, not in a bitter way, she wasn’t blaming Y/n for wanting to keep it a secret. She was just... sad.

 “And I get it. I do. But it sucked,” Aggie kept going, her voice barely above a whisper. “Watching you sit there all bruised up, and I couldn’t even hold your hand unless we were… hidden away in my house or in a hospital room.”

Y/n knew what Aggie meant. She knew the ache of pretending, the very careful steps and glances behind closed doors and empty locker rooms. But still, here, with Aggie, in her bedroom, she felt more seen than ever.

“You still did it anyway.”Y/n reached out, threading their fingers together. 

Aggie glanced down at their hands, then gave a small, tired smile. “Yeah, but not the way I wanted to.”

“You brought me toast,” Y/n said, lips quirked up faintly. “That’s more than holding my hand… It’s love ”

“You didn’t even eat it.” Aggie rolled her eyes.

“Because I have a concussion.”

“Well, that’s your fault,” Aggie muttered, brushing her thumb over Y/n’s knuckles. “You’re the one who headbutted a post.”

Y/n leaned back on her elbows, eyes fluttering shut. “I’d do it again.”

“You’re the worst.”

“But you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

..

Y/n really did not remember what happened. She especially didn’t remember how Luis said that the Arsenal girls would visit her at her home to celebrate Y/n’s winning goal properly …and well, to appreciate her new cool scar as well.

But the silence outside Y/n’s house was way too uncomfortable. 

The driveway had her car, but the lights were off. The curtains were drawn. The house looked like no one had been home for a while. Even the neighbor said she hadn’t seen Y/n since the morning before the game.

The girls stood awkwardly on the front steps. Kyra and Lotter were carrying balloons with messages on them.

‘Goal: scored. Brain cells: lost’ from Kyra and ‘We love you!’ from Lotte.

They were staring at each other like any of them would have a clue about Y/n’s whereabouts.

Steph was the first to speak, her voice sharp, barely containing nerves. 

“Okay. So… she’s not here.”

“She’s not here,” Leah echoed, as if repeating it might somehow make Y/n appear out of thin air. Her face was squished against the front window, trying to see something inside her house. “There are still plates in the sink…” 

“Oh wow, that tells us so much,” Kyra muttered, rolling her eyes as she elbowed Leah aside to get a better look. “We need to check if her cat’s still inside. She wouldn’t leave her cat alone this long.”

“Since when does Y/n have a cat?” Steph asked, throwing her hand in the air. 

“…She doesn’t?” Kyra asked, genuinely confused. “Shit, did I get her mixed up with Laia?”

Steph held the bridge of her nose. “Laia doesn’t have a cat either, Kyra.”

“Did we… forget to pick her up from the hospital?” Lotte asked, interrupting the two girls. Her phone was already in hand, eyes flicking between messages in the team group chat and her call log. “I swear someone said Luis had her.”

“He did have her!” Kyra jumped in, already spiraling. “And now he’s not answering! That’s how kidnappings work.”

Steph stared at her. “Do you even hear yourself when you speak?”

“I do!” Kyra said exasperatedly. “And I sound concerned.”

“Kyra. I swear–” Steph said, turning to the girl with a glare that could kill.

“I’m being realistic!” Kyra protested. “She had a head injury. She’s not answering her phone, and none of us have seen her since she hit the goalpost like an idiot…lovingly, I say that lovingly!”  Kyra explained while Leah gave her new death glares.

“I really don’t think Luis would kidnap her,” Lotte said.

“Of course he wouldn't!” Steph muttered, as if she was about to lose it at any second. “Luis is sixty-eight years old, he wouldn't be able to do that.

“Maybe the Chelsea fans did,” Kyra suggested.

“That would actually make sense,” Leah nodded. “Very Chelsea behavior.”

Lotte didn’t even look up. “Why would Chelsea fans want her?”

“Because she scored against them!” Kyra hissed. “That’s a motive! A good one too.”

Leah groaned, dragging a hand down on her face. “Okay. Okay,. We’re not gonna panic.”

“You literally are panicking.” Steph crossed her arms. 

“I’m allowed!” Leah snapped. “She’s basically my child.”

“Since when?” Kyra asked.

“Since she asked me to paint her nails red when she debuted for Arsenal at sixteen,” Leah snapped, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Everyone shut up and get in the car.” Then Steph clapped once. “We’re finding her.”

Now they were all crammed into Steph’s car, shoulders smushed and the balloons long forgotten in the trunk.

There was silence in the car, one of those built purely on tension and panic.

“We should’ve gone straight to the hospital,” Leah muttered as she chewed her thumbnail. “What if she wandered off? What if she thought she lived somewhere else? What if she forgot who she was?”

“Let’s retrace steps,” Lotte said, fake calmness in her tone as she pulled out her phone, once again opening her messages “She’s either with Luis, or at the hospital or–”

“On a ditch,” Kyra said, sadly.

“Kyra!” All three heads snapped towards her as they yelled in unison.

“What! You all thought of that,” Kyra huffed, “I’m just saying it.”

“This is not one of those true crime podcasts you listen to,” Steph said, eyes locked on the road ahead of her. 

“Exactly,” Leah muttered, rolling her eyes. “She's probably at the hospital and she… probably left her phone in the locker room back at Emirates, that’s why she’s not answering our calls.”

“I think we should try and call Luis again,” Steph said.

“No!” Lotte said, determined. “We should check the hospital first.”

“But you’ve called the hospital and they said they discharged her last night!” Steph said. “We can’t waste more time!”

“I say we check every ditch between here and the Emirates,” Kyra muttered, looking out the window.

Leah turned to Kyra slowly, pinching her arm “If you say ‘ditch’ one more time, I will ditch you.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful,” Kyra mumbled, crossing her arms.

“You’re helpful when you’re quiet,” Leah said.

Silence again. But then–

“Wait,” Steph said, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Did anyone ask around if she might be with someone? Like, other people outside our team?”

“With whom?” Leah scoffed. “Her family’s abroad. I’ve never seen her hang out with people outside Arsenal, especially lately. The last few months, she has barely hung out with us.”

“She has to be with someone, though,” Lotte cut in. “There’s no other explanation. The hospital is completely clear.”

“Did you ask if she left with someone?” Leah asked.

“Yeah,” Lotte nodded. “But they said it was private information, that they couldn’t give anything else away—”

“Wait!” Kyra said, more serious now. “If they say it’s information, then it means she did leave with someone.”

“…And that someone’s got to be someone else besides Luis,” Leah continued. “Luis was the one who checked her in, so it would only be private if he wasn’t the one who checked her out, right?”

“Um, I guess?” Steph said. “I don't really know the whole privacy policy of the hospital.”

“But then we’re back at square one,” Leah said. “Who would she call to pick her up? And why would Luis let her leave with that person? I mean, he was with her. There’s no doubt about that.”

“Well… if he left and let the other person stay with Y/n,” Lotte said slowly, “maybe it’s someone Y/n was very comfortable with.”

“But who?” Leah groaned.

“I don’t know, but… did anyone else notice she’s been kind of… I don’t know. Happier, maybe?” Steph suggested. “Like she’s been smiling more lately? And she skipped every Friday night outing last month. Said she had plans, but never said what.”

“Where are you going with that?” Kyra asked, a smirk forming. “Do you think she has someone?”

“She’s not dating anyone, if that’s what you guys mean,” Leah chimed in. “She would’ve told me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m like her big sister. She wouldn’t leave me in the dark about something like that.”

“What if there’s a reason she wouldn’t want you to know?” Kyra said, clearly enjoying herself now. “Like… if she had a little secret lover.”

“Secret lover?” Leah made a face.

Kyra shrugged, her grin widening. “What else do you call it? Forbidden romance? Romeo and Juliet?”

“Kyra, shut up!” Leah said.

“No…,” Lotte cut in, thoughtful now. “Kyra might be onto something here—”

“What? I am?” Kyra blinked, then smiled proudly. “Yeah. Of course I am.”

“What do you mean?” Leah asked, already suspicious.

“Well… when she was on the bench, while we were on the pitch, she was talking with a player–”

“What player?” Steph asked.

“Beever-Jones,” Lotte said. “She was kneeling in front of Y/n, but I didn’t think too much of it at the time.”

“AGGIE BEEVER-JONES?” Leah practically screamed, louder this time—like repeating it might exorcise the idea from her mind. “Do you think she’s going out with the enemy?”

Kyra gasped, delighted. “Star-crossed! I knew it!”

“This is not romantic, Kyra,” Leah snapped. “This is betrayal.”

Lotte reached over, placing a hand on Leah’s shoulder–partly to calm her down, partly to stop her from climbing out of the car and storming Chelsea’s training ground “Okay. Let’s just slow down for a sec. We don’t know anything yet.”

“They did smile a little too much when they shook hands last game,” Kyra offered.

“I think I saw her wink at Aggie during warm-up,” Steph added.

A moment of stunned silence.

Leah clutched her head. “No. No. Absolutely not. I would’ve noticed. I see everything.”

“You didn’t see this,” Steph said gently.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Leah mumbled, staring blankly at the road. “Not a Chelsea girlfriend. Oh, bloody hell. Betrayed.”

“And that’s why she didn’t tell you anything,” Kyra said, rolling her eyes.

“Guys,” Lotte said firmly now, voice cutting through the noise. “We need to focus. Y/n’s hurt. She didn’t go home. She’s not at the hospital anymore. We need to make sure she’s okay before we plan a…group intervention.”

“We should look for her at Aggie’s house,” Leha said. “If what you guys are talking about it’s really true, she might be there.”

“Okay, but we cannot just show up at Aggie Beever-Jones’ house,” Steph said, “That’s insane. She barely knows us, like, outside of the pitch!”

Leah waved her off like that was irrelevant. “She barely knows you and Kyra. She knows me and Lotte very well from camp.”

“Also,” Lotte said, “We know where she lives, it’s not too far away from here.”

“Wait, you guys know where she lives? Why?” Kyra asked, suspicious. 

“As I said,” Leah rolled her eyes. “We are friends because of the lionesses. She threw a party at her house last camp. We all went there.”

“Oh, so now you’re friends?” Kyra said, lifting her eyebrows. “Just seconds ago you called her ‘enemy’.”

“She is my enemy when we’re not playing for England!” Leah said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re not that close, she hangs out with the younger girls more–but that doesn’t mean I can’t know where she lives.”

..

The girls were all standing in front of Aggie’s door; the lights were on, so they knew somebody was home. Leah had pressed the doorbell, and they anxiously waited.

Then Aggie opened the door, blinking at the sudden crowd gathered on her doorstep. She looked like she’d just come out of the shower, her hair damp, she had a shirt way too big for her, and the socks on her feet didn’t match.

She looked very comfortable, very innocent.

Her brows furrowed instantly.

“Oh… hi?” she said, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the group on her doorstep. 

The girls said nothing, only watched Aggie up and down, as if investigating every inch of her.

“Is this… like… a Lionesses-Matildas emergency meetup or something?” Aggie continued, feeling wary over their glare. “Did you guys come here to show me the trophy you won yesterday or–”

Leah didn’t waste a second. “Where is she, Beever-Jones?”

Aggie blinked. “I’m sorry? What do you mean, Leah?”

“Hi Aggie. We’re sorry to bother you,”  Steph stepped forward, her voice calmer but firm. “But we’re looking for Y/n, she had a concussion, I don’t know if you remember that…but she’s not at the hospital anymore, and no one knows where she went–we’re looking for her.”

Aggie’s confusion didn’t budge. She blinked again, clearly trying to process. 

“Okay, wow, that’s very concerning, but… why are you here?” Aggie asked. 

Leah narrowed her eyes. “Because you might know where she is.”

“What? Why me?” Aggie’s voice pitched up in disbelief. “I barely even talk to her off the pitch–why would she come here?”

“I saw you talking to her last game,” Lotte said, tone sharp with accusation. “I thought nothing of it, but now– we have a few theories that involve you and our Y/n.”

Aggie blinked, then crossed her arms. 

“Yeah. I was checking if she was okay. You know–being a decent fellow player.” Her mouth curled into a tight, sarcastic smile. “I guess that makes me a better teammate than the rest of you. I didn’t leave her alone and injured while I ran off to celebrate.”

“...Okay, point made,” Kyra said in a low voice, watching as Leah fumed in silence beside her.

“We didn’t leave her alone!” Leah snapped. “We came back–but by then, she had already gone to the hospital with our medic.”

“Oh yeah,” Aggie scoffed. “A club’s medic is great company when you’ve just found out you nearly had a brain bleed.”

Leah crossed her arms. “And what were we supposed to do? Hover over her? She gets overwhelmed with that stuff—I know Y/n. She doesn’t like that kind of attention.”

“It’s not attention, though,” Aggie shot back. “It’s just… checking in? Like a decent person would do? You lot are acting like you care now, but she didn’t seem too surrounded when she walked off the pitch.”

Steph stepped in between them, raising a hand. “Okay, okay, let’s all take a breath. This isn’t helping Y/n.”

“Yeah,” Lotte muttered. “Especially since you’re basically confirming she is here.”

Aggie blinked. “I’m not confirming anything!”

“Well, you might not be confirming,” Kyra said, leaning slightly to peek inside Aggies’ house, “but that Arsenal jacket on your sofa says otherwise.”

Aggie instinctively shifted, half-turning to block the view from the door. “That? That’s mine.”

“You own an Arsenal player jacket?” Leah raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes,” Aggie said, voice firm.

Kyra tilted her head. “They’re not even for sale.”

“Well, this one was.” Aggie shrugged.

Leah narrowed her eyes. “You mean to tell me Chelsea’s golden girl just happened to buy an Arsenal team jacket? Does your club know about that?”

“Yes,” Aggie crossed her arms, staying planted in the doorway. 

“Really? You bought it? Where? From who?” Kyra leaned to the side again, trying to get a better look. 

“Online,” Aggie shot her a look. 

“There’s no online store for those jackets,” Kyra said, smirking. “They’re team-issued.”

“Well, maybe I’ve got connections,” Aggie said, stepping slightly to the left again as if that’d help.

“Or maybe you’ve got a concussion patient hiding in your house,” Leah said under her breath.

There was silence.

“You guys are the most annoying friend groups I never asked for,” Aggie said, staring at them.

“You’re welcome, mate,” Leah said, nudging Aggie aside as she stepped into the house.

Aggie rolled her eyes but didn’t bother fighting it. It was a lost battle–they clearly weren’t planning to leave anytime soon.

“Where is she?” Steph asked, hovering just inside the door, looking slightly awkward about intruding on someone else’s space. 

“She’s sleeping,” Aggie said, pulling her damp hair into a bun.

“Sleeping? She can’t sleep, what about the–”

“I already did the whole protocol,” Aggie cut in, exasperated. “It’s been sixteen hours. She can sleep now.”

 “Oh. Right.”Steph blinked. “Sorry.”

“I was just getting out of the shower and about to go to sleep too…I’m dying–I spent the whole night awake with her.” Aggie said as she went to the kitchen, getting herself a water bottle.

“You did?” Leah asked, a little surprised.

Aggie shot her a look. “Of course I did. What did you expect me to do? Close my eyes and leave her alone with a head injury?”

“That’s…nice,” Lotte offered.

Aggie huffed. “I am nice.”

Silence again.

“So… you guys are a thing,” Leah said, arms crossed.

“Oh, we’re definitely something, yeah.”Aggie didn’t even blink, but the smirk on her face was growing. “Girlfriends, to be more exact.”

“Oh!” They all said in unison.

“You. A Chelsea,” Leah said slowly, pointing at her, “dating Y/n. An Arsenal?”

“Yes, it’s not that deep,” Aggie said. “We’re not the first nor the last to date someone from the rival’s team.”

“But the rivalry between Chelsea and Arsenal is crazy,” Kyra chimed in. “I get it, though, keeping a secret–If I told you the story about this scarf I wore once…”

“Oh god,” Leah muttered. “Not the scarf again.”

“It was a Tottenham scarf of Charli,” Kyra said, ignoring her. “I wore it for one match, everybody treated me like I had kicked a dog or something like that. The fans were ruthless, the media too.”

“Oh yeah,” Steph said. “People said you weren’t supporting Arsenal.”

“Yeah! But I just wanted to support my friend.” Kyra threw her hands up.

“Um… yeah, me and Y/n won’t be doing the scarf thing,” Aggie said. “Boundaries and all that.”

“Oh, look at this!” Lotte called from the other side of the room, pointing at a cluster of framed photos on the wall. “It’s us–”

Leah and Steph stepped closer, with Kyra peeking over Lotte’s shoulder.

It was a photo from the Lionesses camp–Lotte, Leah, Aggie, and a few others grinning with their arms slung around each other, faces flushed from training.

“We look so happy here,” Lotte said softly. “Even Leah’s smiling.”

“Oh, come on,” Leah huffed. “I smile sometimes.”

“Very rarely,” Kyra muttered.

“What camp was this?” Lotte asked, turning to Aggie.

“Belgium,” Aggie replied from across the room, drying her hair with a towel. “A couple of years ago. My first one.”

“Oh, that’s why you kept the picture,” Leah said, sounding almost touched.

“Yeah,” Aggie nodded. “But I’m painting over yours and Lotte’s faces after today, though.”

Lotte gasped. “That’s not nice!”

“You broke into my house, mate,” Aggie said deadpan.

The whole group turned their heads when they heard the sound of steps to their left, in the hallway that connected the living room with the rest of the house.

“What—what’s happening?” Y/n asked, suddenly walking into the room, her hair a complete mess and eyes barely open as she rubbed them. “Aggie, what’s all this noise–”

Then her eyes fully opened.

She blinked once. Twice. And just like that, she was pulled into a full group hug by Leah, Lotte, Steph, and Kyra, all beaming at her like she’d risen from the dead.

“You’re really here, honey,” Steph said, her voice thick with relief as she squeezed her tight.

“Fuck, I was so worried about you!” Leah snapped, her voice sharp with emotion. “Where’s your phone? We called you like a hundred times!”

“Wh–what?” Y/n blinked rapidly, still half asleep and completely confused. “Why are you guys here? Hm—Aggie?”

“Oh, my friend,” Kyra said dramatically, wrapping her arms around Y/n’s shoulders from behind, “we thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Dead? In a what?” Y/n said, eyebrows shooting up.

“We didn’t think that,” Lotte cut in quickly, gesturing to the group. “Kyra did.”

“Okay,” Y/n mumbled, gently detaching herself from Kyra’s arms and taking a step back, eyes darting between all of them. “Still not answering the question–why are you here?”

“We could ask you the same thing!” Leah shot back. “Are you seriously telling me you hid that you were dating? From me?”

Aggie watched from the edge of the room, lips twitching at the chaos, but her eyes never left Y/n.

Y/n opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again. Her gaze flicked to Aggie, who stood at the edge of the room looking sheepish.

“Sorry, love,” Aggie said, rubbing the back of her neck. “They kind of… pieced it all together.”

Y/n turned slowly back to the others, eyes wide, then back to Aggie.

“Oh,” Y/n said faintly.

 That was all she could manage.

“Surprise,” Aggie grinned, like it wasn’t a very public secret now.

..

Notes: Please let me know what you guys think!! <3

[wheeboo]

just a roommate thing | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which playful flirting between you and your roommate has always been the norm, but how does that help with how you really feel towards him? PAIRING. kim mingyu x gn!reader (ft. seokmin) GENRE. fluff, humour?, roommates (and prob idiots) to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, slightly suggestive, just... flirting?, reader is shorter than him, mingyu is shirtless, reader is referred as "princess" once, mentioned that reader is wearing makeup, reader dislikes pizza for the sake of plot sorry to my pizza lovers HAHAHA, reader is gender neutral but they briefly compare themselves to another girl, kissing WORD COUNT. 5.2k

requested by anon: Hii, I wanna request a Mingyu fic where him and reader are roomies and they’re very lovey dovey ig but “jokingly”. But then reader is like trying to go on dates and stuff and Mingyus jealous💀 idk man

notes: this was actually a random request that i started months ago and suddenly decided i wanted to finish RIGHT NOW when i was scrolling thru drafts. no idea if the anon who sent this remembers this but um... yeah ! lowk turned out a bit of a mess i think this plot sounded better in my head, enjoy nonetheless :')

You like to think that being roommates with Kim Mingyu is both a blessing and a curse.

You used to believe that having your very first roommate straight up abandon you at the very beginning of the semester was something you could pull off with, because you'd rather be living alone than living with someone you can hardly vibe with. It worked for a while, until the housing department paired you with Kim Mingyu: tall, obnoxiously handsome, ridiculously muscular for seriously no goddamn reason at all, annoyingly charming, and a goofy smile that could light up a room.

Any person would probably kill to be in your place right now, but sometimes you think you'd rather trade places with the pigeons outside your window. Mingyu wasn't a bad roommate𑁋far from it, actually. He kept the apartment spotless, never hogged the bathroom, and even cooks mean late-night ramen whenever you both are drowning in deadlines.

But the problem was, Mingyu was also excruciatingly touchy. Not in a creepy way, but more like a human koala bear who couldn't seem to function without some form of physical contact. Whether it was ruffling your hair as you walked past him, casually draping his arm over your shoulder while watching a movie together, or sneaking up behind you to give you a surprise bear hug while you cooked, there was a line between friendly and... something more.

It was comfortable, almost too comfortable. You told yourself it was just a roommate thing, just a Mingyu thing𑁋that you were both really good friends who happened to be a little more affectionate than most. But you seriously want to smack his head sometimes. And maybe your own too, even if you secretly like the attention. Because deep down, you know there's nothing casual about the way you feel about Mingyu.

But lately, for God's sake, you don't know how much more you can handle.

"Need any help with that?" Mingyu's voice snatches your attention from your aimless stirring of some cookie dough, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull.

Here he is. Kim Mingyu in all his glory𑁋shirtless with a towel in-hand dabbing at his dripping strands of hair, his tan skin glistening with droplets of water from the shower. You try your best to keep your gaze focused on the cookie dough in front of you, trying to ignore the way his damp hair sticks to his forehead and how the sight of his abs are practically boring into your soul, but that's easier said than done.

Your throat tightens, and you let out a cough.

"Yeah, um...." You let your eyes drift down to the plain-looking batter of cookie dough in front of you. "Can you grab some chocolate chips from the pantry?"

Mingyu just raises a brow, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "Sure thing, princess."

You feel your cheeks burn unpleasantly at the playful nickname, and you mutter a quick thanks as he saunters past, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him. You focus back on stirring, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest and the way your fingers fumble against the spoon.

He returns with a bag of chocolate, and as he leans over to pour some into the bowl, your arms brushing lightly. A jolt shoots through you, and you almost drop the spoon. He pauses, eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before you get yourself back to mixing the dough again.

"Here, let me help you," Mingyu offers, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches over to try to grab the spoon from your grasp. You can practically feel the warmth of his body radiating through his bare arm.

You let out a scoff, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. "I can handle it, Gyu."

He just chuckles, and the sound seems to send shivers down your spine.

"Nonsense," he insists adamantly, tone playful but there's a pinch of softness in there too. "Two hands are twice as fast, right?"

You roll your eyes in slight annoyance, but a small smile tugs at your lips nonetheless.

"More like twice as messy." Yet you end up surrendering the spoon to him anyway, because simply saying no to him is a strenuous thing to do over anything else. His hand meets yours halfway, fingers touching against your knuckles as he snatches the whisk from your hands.

The heat from his hand lingers even after he pulls away, and you find yourself unable to tear your gaze from him, mesmerised by the way his biceps flex, the way his hair falls in messy dark strands across his forehead, the way his lips curve as he focuses on whisking in a way that's both infuriating and endearing.

But amidst this, you can't help but feel the nagging feeling settling at the pit of your stomach.

"So, what's the occasion?" Mingyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, pulling you back to reality.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by the question. "Huh?"

Mingyu chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I mean, you don't usually bake cookies on a random Wednesday night. Is there something special going on?"

You swallow, feeling your mind draw a blank, trying to come up with a nonchalant answer. "Oh, you know... just felt like baking."

Mingyu just scoffs, clearly not buying your words. "Come on, Y/N. You're a terrible liar."

God, how can he always see right through you? Does he have some sort of sixth sense? And yet, even despite the discomfort of being so transparent, there's a strange sense of comfort in knowing that Mingyu can see you for who you truly are, except for the one thing you want him to notice about you.

"Fine." You give in, running a slightly frustrated hand through your hair. "It's... Seokmin."

For just a single, most miniscule moment, Mingyu pauses.

"Seokmin?"

You swear you can feel your feet sinking into quicksand. "The guy from my history class, remember? He... uh, I asked him out the other day."

Mingyu's whisking slows down as he processes your words, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes. But before you can dwell on it further, he masks it with a faint smirk.

"You asked him out?" he asks, as if still trying to wrap his head around it.

"Yeah, I..." You seriously want to sew your mouth shut right now. "I thought I would, um, you know... put myself out there for once."

You watch as Mingyu throws another handful of chocolate chips into the batter, a little more forcefully this time, the clatter against the metal bowl echoing in the sudden silence. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from the way his jaw clenches and unclenches.

"So," he continues, seemingly unfazed. "what did he say?"

You hesitate, watching as his hands work the dough, mind whirling with confusion and caution.

"He... um, he said yes."

"Huh," Mingyu murmurs, tone teasing. "And here I thought I was the only one who got to enjoy your company."

His words jab at your heart, a pang of guilt twisting around in your stomach, but you try to brush it off with a forced chuckle.

"You know you're irreplaceable, Gyu."

Mingyu's gaze flickers to yours, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of... something in his eyes. But before you can decipher it, he offers you a tight-lipped smile, the kind that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right," he replies casually. "I'm glad you think so."

Mingyu is wearing one of your hoodies.

Sure, you've worn a couple hoodies and sweatshirts that he has given to you out of practicality as they were really oversized and comfortable. But here, in the middle of your kitchen, highlighted under the warm glow of the overhead light and the aroma of cooked ramen, seeing Mingyu draped in your favourite oversized, white hoodie felt awfully intimate, and it brings that overwhelming flutter to your chest.

"Hey," he greets you when you walk in. "How was the date?"

You can still hardly believe what you're seeing right now, gaze staring at the way the fabric seems to cling at this broad frame, and your own lips doesn't seem to be functioning correctly.

"It was, uh... it was good," You manage to stammer out, feeling heat creep up your cheeks and forcing your gaze away from the way Mingyu rolls up his sleeves. "He liked the cookies."

"He liked the cookies?" Mingyu raises an amused brow, leaning against the counter with a casual ease that throws your already flustered mind into further disarray.

You shrug, feeling like your burying yourself down into an inescapable hole. "Yeah, he did. We, uh, had a meal at the park, talked for a while, the usual stuff, you know."

Some silence stretches between you, filled with the soft sizzle of the ramen and the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. You watch the way Mingyu twirls the noodles around a pair of chopsticks, before shutting off the heat of the stove.

"Are you wearing my hoodie?" You ask as he's taking a sip of the soup, the question tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it. "I swear I've been looking for that one for ages."

Mingyu looks down at himself as if he remembering what he's wearing, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips, and he scratches the back of his neck in a gesture that's so uniquely him𑁋it makes your heart ache.

"I... forgot to do my laundry, and it was the first thing I could find," he admits, then takes a sip of the ramen, eyes meeting yours briefly before dropping back down to the bowl. "Looks comfy on me, though, doesn't it?"

He wasn't wrong. It usually engulfed you, but it hung loosely on Mingyu's bigger frame, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows to reveal his strong forearms.

"Well," You say, clearing your throat. "I wouldn't mind having it back, actually. It's my favourite."

"Yeah?" he tests playfully, raising a mischievous eyebrow. "I don't know, it looks pretty good on me."

You watch as he flexes his arm playfully, making the fabric of the hoodie stretch across his bicep. You can't help but let out a small, choked laugh, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest despite yourself.

"Oh, come on," You fret, trying to keep your voice light. "You got plenty of hoodies, dude."

But Mingyu just takes another casual sip of his ramen, his expression calm.

"Maybe," he says finally. "But this one smells good. It smells like you."

You freeze up. It smells... like me? Well, obviously, it fucking does𑁋

"Just bring it back to me when you're done with it," You say almost lamely, unsure if you wanted to laugh or flee to your room and hide.

"I mean, if you want it so bad I can take it off right no𑁋"

"No! Don't do that. Oh my gosh," You shoot a glare towards him, pursing your lips together tightly at the sight of him reaching for the ends of the hoodie like he was actually about to take it off... right in front of you. "You know what? I'm tired. Goodnight."

You're already marching off to your room in the middle of Mingyu bringing another mouthful of ramen into his mouth.

"Hey!" he calls out to you, nearly spitting out noodles in the process. "Where's my goodnight hug?"

You freeze at that in the middle of your doorway. Seriously, are you really in this deep to the point that you've made it a habit to hug each other before going to bed?

You hardly register Mingyu coming up from behind once you turn around to see him. His mouth is drooped into a pout, eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you expectantly. It’s ridiculous how effortlessly adorable he looks, and your need to be annoyed at him falters each passing second.

"Fine," You relent, stepping forward to give him a very brief, obligatory hug. But the moment you feel his strong arms wrap around you even more, you know it’s not going to be a quick one.

Mingyu’s warmth seeps through the layers of your clothes and down to your core, and you find yourself relaxing against him, as if it was a natural response for your body to do. He squeezes you a little tighter, letting his chin resting lightly on top of your head. A low sigh escapes him.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You close your eyes, only for a moment, letting yourself relinquish the way he holds you. It feels like everything you’ve been trying to ignore𑁋all laid bare in the simple act of a hug.

"Goodnight, Gyu."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look down at you, the features to his face softer than you’ve ever seen it. For a moment, you think he might say something more, because his lips seem to attempt at forming a word, yet nothing comes out. But then he simply smiles, and the seconds finally pass.

"Sleep well," he says quietly, releasing you reluctantly, and giving you a gentle pat on the head before heading back to the kitchen.

You have your next date with Seokmin a week later.

You told Mingyu ahead of time as well, and he reacted the same way as last time𑁋nonchalant, playful, a pinch of tease, an averted gaze down towards his phone, and simply bidding you with a have a good time. It was hard to tell if he was genuinely unbothered or if he was just playing it cool, and the thought sort of irked you the entire day.

After Seokmin dropped you off home, you find yourself standing in front of the door to your place, as if you're trying to laser a hole through it with your eyes. Yet you simply huff a breath, fumble with getting the keys out of your bag and inserting it into the keyhole, before stepping inside.

And the fresh smell of food hits you.

It's really hard to not acknowledge the fact that Mingyu is quite literally a living, breathing chef sleeping in the same apartment as you.

Mingyu turns his head around, noticing you standing in the doorway, and lets his gaze scan over you from head to toe. He could see the bits of extra effort you put into your appearance today that he wasn't able to see earlier as he was out. There was a pink colour that dusted over your cheeks of the blush you probably put, a bit of glimmer to your eyes from some eyeshadow, and your lips glossed with a soft sheen that catches the kitchen light just right.

"Hey," he lets out airily, watching you place your bag on the table. "How was the date?"

You run a hand through your hair. "It was... It was good. Seokmin's really nice. He took me to a pizza place."

Mingyu stills at that for a second, lifting a brow in question. "I thought you don't like pizza."

"Well, yeah, but I said it was fine so𑁋"

"If he was going to take you out on more dates, then he should know what kinds of places you don't like to eat."

"I said I was fine with it, Gyu," You retort a bit harshly, immediately regretting your tone in the silence that instantly engulfs the two of you. "We ended up having a good time anyway."

The sounds of something cooking reverberate throughout your shared place. You watch the way Mingyu stirs something in a large pot with a pair of chopsticks, before taking it out, blowing on it a few times, and taking it into his mouth for a brief taste test.

When he puts the chopsticks back down and kills the heat on the stove, he faces back to you with his hands placed firmly on the counter.

"Did you two do anything else?"

The smell of the food makes your stomach rumble quietly, but you attempt to conceal it with clearing your throat. "What do you mean?"

"Like..." Mingyu motions something with his hands and you could only peer at him quizzically. "Like have you𑁋"

"Are… Are you about to ask me if we kissed?" You nearly want to scoff at that. "Do I look like the kind of person that kisses on the second date?"

Mingyu just laughs, tilting his head to the side slightly. "I don't know. Do you?"

All you do is shrug your shoulders, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Well, no, we didn't kiss. We just... talked."

Mingyu seems to take in your words for a second, before nodding slowly. "Okay. That's... That's good."

The way he says it makes you feel a bit uneasy. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly acutely aware of how tired you are, both from the evening and from this conversation. Mingyu glances at you again, something apologetic forming in his eyes.

"Sorry," he says quietly. "I didn't mean to pry. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I know, it's... fine," You reply, though you're not sure if it is. "I'm just tired."

Mingyu gestures over to the pot on the stove. "I made some food if you're hungry."

You walk to the side of the kitchen where he's at, taking a peek inside the pot. "Is it...?"

"Yep!" Mingyu exclaims excitedly and steps up beside you, where you could practically feel his presence lingering right on your skin. "My signature jjajangmyeon. Your favourite."

Your stomach rumbles again, and you swear Mingyu hears it from the way his lips quirk up in a smirk down at you. You almost want to (affectionately) shove that expression off his face, but you don't, because his gaze toward you relaxes when you look back up at him. It's a look that feels familiar, comforting, and slightly intimidating all at once.

You feel your heart clench tightly in your chest.

"I'm starting to think," Seokmin starts, loudly slurping up his cup of boba tea. "that this is a very bad idea."

You grimly shove the straw through the plastic and take a long sip, the flavours from the drink bursting in your mouth as you do so. You hear the loud screech of Seokmin bringing his chair closer to the table.

"I'm starting to think it is too."

Seokmin's eyes widen. "You are?" Then he scoots himself closer to you almost pleadingly. "Does that mean you're gonna tell him?"

"I..." You mentally want to facepalm yourself right now. "I don't know."

"Y/N!"

"I know! I know! I'm a coward!" You bury your face in your arms for a moment, letting out a few muffled groans at the cold surface of the table. "We're literally roommates and it complicates everything! There are times where I feel like there's just something a little... more to us, you know? I mean, do you usually give goodnight hugs to your roommate?"

Seokmin snorts a little at that. "I don't think Minghao would like it if I did that to him."

"Okay, okay. Just𑁋If your roommate wasn't Minghao and someone you liked, would you give them goodnight hugs too?"

You could tell Seokmin is genuinely thinking about the question. His lips purse together in thought, his hand running over the sides of his cup.

"If I liked them, I'd probably find any excuse to be close to them. Like sharing food, doing little favours here and there, wanting to hug them and stuff like that..." Seokmin admits a bit bashfully. "Isn't that what he does to you?"

"Yes, and it's driving me absolutely bonkers. And he... He knows a lot about me, you know? We've had, like, late-night talks and stuff. I've never gotten close with any other person like that. He's just so... ugh!" You glance up at Seokmin with helpless eyes. "Sorry for dragging you into this mess, Seokmin."

Seokmin chuckles lightly. "Hey, I only agreed to be your fake boyfriend because I owed you for saving my grades in class. I didn't realise the extent of how bad this is."

You glare at him playfully at that, lightly swatting him on the arm, but Seokmin just manages to dodge it and swipe your cup of boba tea away from you.

"Okay, but, hypothetically speaking. Let's say he does like you..."

You snatch your drink back and take a long sip, catching a boba pearl between your teeth. "Mhm..."

"And I know the whole point of this was to see if he'll get jealous," Seokmin continues. "but let's say he does like you, wouldn't that mean you're kind of... playing with his feelings?"

Seokmin's words make you pause mid-sip. With the straw between your lips, you contemplate his question as you stare blankly at the swirling boba tea. Playing with Mingyu's feelings𑁋could that really be what you're doing? The whole fake dating plan had started as a test of sorts to see if Mingyu would show any signs of jealousy. But now, as you're sitting here with Seokmin, you're starting to think you might have fucked up a bit. Maybe a lot.

"Because I think from all the details that you told me and how he acts around you," Seokmin pauses and fixes up his posture, looking at you with a lighthearted yet serious expression. "it sounds like he likes you. And if he does, pretending to date me is just going to hurt him. Or confuse him. Or both."

Your mind races with Seokmin's words, and you feel a pang of guilt settling in your chest. "You think so?"

"I think it's pretty obvious, honestly."

"That's not reassuring at all."

"Well, you never know!" Seokmin exclaims. "Look, I'm no love expert. Maybe you two have been pining for each other the entire year but just don't have the guts to say anything about it. And if that's the case, you owe me another free meal, or a few them. You owe me another three free meals!"

You scoff at that before bringing the straw up to your mouth again, hoping that you could drink away the heat blooming within your face.

"Ugh, I'm getting headache𑁋"

"Isn't that Mingyu right there?"

You nearly spit out your drink at that, swearing you could hear the snap of your neck as you bring your head up to where Seokmin is looking with wide eyes. And low and behold, you spot Mingyu entering inside the boba shop.

He's not alone though; he's with a girl.

You feel your heart drop down to your feet as you watch them approach to the ordering counter. They seem comfortable with one another, even if you can't hear what they're saying, their easy smiles and relaxed body language twisting your insides into knots. Mingyu leans in slightly, saying something that makes the girl laugh, and you can't help but notice how effortlessly he charms her, just like he does with everyone.

A tap lands on your shoulder, and you face away to see Seokmin looking at you with worried eyes.

"Do you want to leave?" he mouths to you quietly.

You glance back toward Mingyu and the girl, and the second you see them turning in your direction, you shift uncomfortably in your seat, the chair letting out an earth-shattering squeak.

And you freeze up.

"Y/N?"

You slowly turn around to see Mingyu and the girl approach the table. The first thing you notice is how pretty she looks, her long, flowing hair showering down her shoulders in soft waves. There's a cheery, whimsical aura that you can sense from her, and that seems to be enough to convince yourself that's the kind of personality that Mingyu likes.

"Hey," Mingyu calls out to you again, a smile to his face once he realises it's really you. Briefly, however, his lips seem to straighten out when he shoots a glance toward Seokmin. "I didn't know the two of you came here for your date."

Seokmin laughs a bit too obviously. "Yeah, man, what a coinc𑁋"

"We were just leaving, actually." You swiftly grab Seokmin by the wrist, tugging him toward you. Then you offer nothing but an unsteady grin. "I'll see you later, Mingyu."

You drag Seokmin out of the shop before hearing whatever Mingyu was saying, your heart pounding like a damn drum in your chest. You don't look back until you're safely outside and a long distance away.

You let go of Seokmin's hand to catch your breath. And when you manage to pick yourself back up, Seokmin's already peering at you with an amused look.

"What was that?" he asks airily, arching up a single brow. "Did you just run away from your roommate?"

"Be quiet," You hiss back at him, attempting to shove him but failing miserably. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh, you hear that?" Seokmin taunts annoyingly, tapping his foot on the ground. "That's the sound of jealousy."

You gulp down a lump in your throat. He's right. You are jealous.

"Dammit," You curse to yourself. "The whole fake dating thing... It was stupid. I thought that, maybe, if Mingyu got jealous, it would mean something. But now, seeing him with that girl..."

"It hit you hard."

"Yeah," You finish simply. "It did."

"And so..." Seokmin lightly nudges you with his hip. "what will the answer be?"

You only narrow your eyes at him, and the resigned sigh that you let out afterwards is enough to send Seokmin's excitement into orbit.

"Yes!" He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you relentlessly. "I'm getting free food!"

Hours pass, and the ache in your chest hasn't eased.

You find yourself melting into the couch, anxiously tugging the ends of your sleeves as you replay the scene over and over back at the boba place. This stupid plan really had backfired on you big time, like a slap to the face, a punch to the gut, a kick to the heart𑁋all in one go.

Every detail from the way Mingyu and that girl walked in together, the ease with which they interacted, and the pang you felt in your chest from how perfect they appeared right next to each other𑁋it all played on a loop in your mind. You knew now that you have to confront your feelings, but the thought of it makes your stomach twist into a pretzel.

There's some random show playing on the TV in front of you, but you could care less at paying attention to it. The apartment is still quiet since Mingyu wasn't back yet, and you could only clench your fists together in a suppressed fit of panic.

"You're an idiot," You scold yourself, closing your eyes tightly. "A complete idiot. How could you be so stupid𑁋"

A rattle at the locks on the door shuts you up, and maybe the world stops spinning too. You feel yourself sink more into the couch out of anticipation.

When the door swings open, Mingyu steps inside, and you hear the rustling sounds of plastic bags. He peers around the apartment for a moment, and when his eyes land on you, he visibly relaxes.

"Y/N?" Even knowing that he's here, his voice still seems to catch you off-guard every single time. "I brought some ice cream for𑁋"

"I'm not dating Seokmin."

The silence that follows is almost suffocating. Mingyu drops the bag of ice cream on top of the kitchen counter, his gaze still not leaving yours. He blinks a few times, as if processing what you just said.

"You're... not?"

You shake your head, a knot forming in your throat. This is it.

"No, Gyu, I'm not dating him," You clarify, tone more serious this time. "We never dated. It was all fake."

All Mingyu does is continue to stand there under the dim lighting of the kitchen light. You can hardly decipher the expression on his face; it was something between confusion and surprise. You try to catch for signs of disappointment, but when he steps a tad bit closer to you, your mind goes a bit haywire.

"Why?" he finally questions after what seems like an eternity.

You take in a deep breath. "I was... I was stupid, okay? I... I thought that if I could make you jealous, it would mean something. That it would mean..." There's a brief pause as you rekindle yourself. "...that you liked me too."

Mingyu's brows furrow slightly in confusion, and you can't tell if the situation is getting worser or not; if the room was getting hotter and your skin was at the point of boiling; if all of this was already tumbling down before your eyes.

"Look, I know we're roommates. But sometimes I think𑁋I feel like there's more to that. We always hug… and flirt, and I..." You purse your lips together as your tongue struggles to grasp the right words. "I like you, okay? I fell for your stupid smile, your stupid hugs, your stupidly good cooking skills. I fell for everything about you. And I couldn't tell you that because I was scared of fucking everything up."

The room seems to hold its breath as you finish speaking. You feel awfully vulnerable right now, like you've laid bare your heart and soul and every single one of your insecurities. Mingyu only remains still, his eyes with surprise. The silence stretches on, and you find yourself gathering your thoughts together as if sensing impending doom.

You let your shoulders slouch in defeat. "It's fine if you don't feel the same way, we could just𑁋"

"I was jealous."

"𑁋pretend all this never happened𑁋what?"

"Of course I was jealous, Y/N." Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, the action all too endearing. "I was stupid too. For not telling you. For not taking the chance when I could. I was jealous when you talked about Seokmin, but I was also a coward for not wanting to screw anything up.”

You could only knit your brows together dazedly, gazing up at him as if he's said a foreign language. "You... were jealous? What about... what about the girl from earlier?"

"She's just a classmate from my English class, and she's interested in one of my other friends. We just happened to cross paths and I offered to grab boba so I could help her with𑁋"

"Shut up," You suddenly say firmly, and Mingyu does immediately, his focused, half-lidded eyes boring down into yours with a look that sends a jump to your stomach. That was all that you need to hear.

He's practically looming above you. You don't recall how exactly he got closer to you but you have nothing in you to complain. If anything, your feet drag you closer toward him, close enough you're able to smell the faint scent of his cologne and perhaps hear the way his heart is beating just as fast as yours.

With one of your hands, you reach up slowly, letting your fingers toy carefully with the collar of his shirt as you search his eyes for any sign of hesitation. But Mingyu's gaze softens, probably like it always has when he's with you, his breath hitching slightly as your touch lingers on his shirt, curling more into the fabric.

Then your lips tug up into a faint smirk, and you pull him down just slightly.

"Don't make me regret this, Kim Mingyu," is all you say before closing the gap and pressing your mouth against his.

He nearly melts right there at the touch of your lips together, but it doesn’t take him long to be kissing you back with more desperation than you expected. His hands slowly draw down your sides, bringing you even further into his embrace. The briefest contact of the tips of his fingers under your shirt makes you tense.

“I won’t,” he whispers in between kisses. “I won’t.”

taglist (open) ʚɞ @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @eternalgyu

@lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @ryuwonieebae @wonwooz1

@mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23

@phenomenalgirl9 @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit

@bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @starshuas

@totomoshi @armycarat2612 @etherealyoungk @maesvtr0

[luveline]

hiii, could we please get bombshell!reader x spencer finding out they’re pregnant with baby no. 2 xxx

Hi thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

The second time, it catches you completely off guard. You still remember the afternoon you’d spent at Spencer’s apartment before you realised you were pregnant with Amy, your first, that nagging feeling of otherness that plagued you for days, and finally got too much to ignore. How Spencer had offered his hand, had sat you in the chair next to him despite it being a tight squeeze. You’d been more scared than you let on, quite hopeful, but you knew in a way before you took the test that it was already happening. 

You figure you have a pretty good idea of what being pregnant feels like, and when your period doesn’t come, you don’t pay it any mind. They’ve been spotty since Amy, on and off and on again. Spencer stopped trying to log it for you a long ago. 

“Mama?” 

You smile. It’s a rare day when Amy calls you ‘mama’: she didn’t spend long in the mama-dada region of time, moving on quickly to ‘mommy’. 

“What’s up, love bug?” you whisper. 

Amy —Amanda, Spencer’s idea, meaning ‘worth of love’— tilts her head back. Spencer swears she’s all you, but you can see both of you in her face, threads of your families. “Daddy’s sleeping?” she asks, her lips screwed into his pout, her eyebrows pulled into your worried pinching. 

“He got home late last night, remember? He’s just tired.” 

She frowns at his face turned into your thigh. “Wake up?” 

“Let’s let him sleep, okay? Sleep is important, it keeps us healthy.”

“You’ll play?” 

“I can’t, he’s sleeping in my lap.” 

“Push.” 

“We don’t push.” 

Amy, perplexed by this, clambers onto the couch despite her father’s entire body being in the way, and Spencer, so used to this mistreatment, doesn’t so much as stir. Amy slides into the space between his chest and the back of the couch and leans down to grin at his lax face. 

“Gonna give daddy a kiss?” you suggest in a murmur. 

Amy gathers the curls from his face and kisses his forehead, smack dab in the middle. 

Spencer’s breath starts to quicken. Amy senses a change and begins patting the back of his neck. “Shhh,” she says, uncoordinated fingers trying hard to be gentle as she pets her father. “Shush, daddy. Sleep.”

Spencer spends hours sleeping in your lap, until eventually Amy tramples him one too many times and his stomach growls its protest. He wakes, turning back, his hair crushed to your thigh, and when he sees you he gives you the same lovely smile as always. 

His teeth peek from behind his lips. “That’s a pretty sight to wake up to,” he says. 

It’s this sleepy afternoon together that means later, when you’re sitting on the closed toilet with a pregnancy test taken from four parts curiosity and one part responsibility, you’re unafraid of the result. You think of Amy’s small hands stroking Spencer’s hair from his face, her head under your nose as you’d cuddled, and you think of Spencer’s dozy smile and his months spent pouring over baby name books, and you know it’s all gonna be fine. 

“You alright?” Spencer asks when you make it to bed some short minutes later. His nap has left him wide awake. 

You climb into bed and turn out your lamp, laying down, curling in, a secret smile playing on your lips as he drags the blankets to your neck. “I’m good.” 

“What’s making you smile?” he asks. 

You gesture for him to lay down with you in the middle dark. Yellow from Amy’s hallway night light bleeds under the door, illuminating the hints of his features. You don’t need it to know what he looks like, where his cheek is in the dark as you lift your hand. “Love you,” you say. 

He pulls you in for a gentle kiss. “Love you,” he says into your lips, hand slipping to the nape of your neck. He squeezes it, groaning at the very back of his throat as he adds, “Missed you.” 

“I missed you too. Sleep well, sweetheart.” 

He wraps an arm around you and cradles you against him. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, angel.” His nose presses to your temple. His lips brush your eyebrow. 

You linger in the quiet for a while. Spencer nearly falls asleep. 

“Spencer?” you ask.

“Mm?” He doesn’t sound tired at all, but he’d been content to lie with you in the quiet.

“Just, by the way. Just so you know,” —you rub your face into his chest, breathing in his smell— “I’m pregnant again.” 

Another lapse of silence. Then Spencer springs up and turns on his bedside lamp to your squinting ire, eyes alight with shock. “You’re what?” 

“Pregnant.” You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the unwelcome light. “With a baby,” you say, your voice mildly muffled, “maybe two or so months.” 

Spencer slips a hand under your cheek and turns you back around. He holds your face in both palms, a rueful sort of acceptance about him as he leans down for a good look at you, though underneath it you can see the same thrumming contentedness you’d felt seeing the double pink lines. “And you’re telling me now?” 

“Didn’t you always say you expected to be the last to know?” you tease. “I did a test a few minutes ago. Clear Blue. Very accurate, or so you’ve said.” 

Spencer laughs and presses his face sharply into your own. Your nose throbs after a while, but you say nothing. You smile when he sniffles, raking your hand through his mousy brown hair. 

“I didn’t have an inkling of a suspicion,” you confess in a whisper. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you say, laughing under your breath as his hand creeps down to your stomach. “It’s the same as it was yesterday, I promise.”

“Well, it’s not.” Spencer’s face falls into the nook of your shoulder, hand slipping from your stomach to behind you, where he holds you like you’re at risk of escaping him. You have no such inclination.

[satellite-evans]

Hi! Could I please request a one shot where Harry is sick maybe during tour and his gf has to take care of him? Thank you! I love your writing!

a/n: thank you so much for liking my work, it truly means a lot! it's a little short but I still hope you'll like it <3

sick on tour

The hotel room is quiet except for the noise of the air conditioning and the occasional sniffle from the lump of blankets curled up in the middle of the king-sized bed. The curtains are drawn, shielding the bright city lights outside from intruding on the peaceful, dimly lit space. Harry has always liked his hotel rooms cozy—candles on the nightstand, his favorite hoodie draped over the chair, and the softest pillows he could find. But tonight, none of it seems to bring him comfort.

You stand at the edge of the mattress, arms crossed, watching Harry sulk into his pillow. His curls are a mess, sticking to his slightly damp forehead, his nose a little pink from the fever, and yet—despite looking absolutely miserable—he’s still trying to convince you he’s fine.

“I can do the show,” he rasps, voice hoarse and scratchy. He attempts to prop himself up on his elbows, but the movement sends him into a fit of coughing. You sigh and press a hand to his chest, gently urging him back down.

“Baby, no. You can barely sit up.”

He frowns, brows knitting together like a petulant child. “S’just a little cold.”

“You have a fever, a sore throat, and you sound like you swallowed sandpaper,” you point out, smoothing your fingers over his clammy forehead. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Harry grumbles something incoherent and burrows further into the pillows. You can tell he hates this—hates being taken care of, hates being seen as anything less than strong. But the thing is, to you, he’s always strong. Even now, curled up in a nest of tissues and blankets, he’s still the man you love more than anything.

Tour has been brutal on him lately. Night after night of performing, giving his all to the crowds that adore him, leaving every ounce of himself on that stage. He never complains—not about the exhaustion, not about the jet lag, not about the toll it takes on his body. But you see it in the way his shoulders slump when he thinks no one is looking, the way his voice is a little more raw each morning, the way he clings to you just a little tighter when he finally collapses into bed at the end of the night.

“I can’t cancel, though,” he whispers after a long moment, his voice laced with guilt. “They’ve probably spent so much money—flights, hotels, tickets, clothes and waited months just to see me. I can’t let them down, I just can't.”

You soften, understanding where his frustration is coming from. Harry has always carried the weight of his fans' happiness on his shoulders, always put them first. It’s one of the many reasons you love him—but right now, he needs to put himself first.

You take his hand in yours, rubbing slow, comforting circles over his knuckles. “Harry, sweetheart, I already spoke to Jeff. He and the team handled everything. They put out a statement, rescheduled the show, and made sure the fans know how much you care about them Not that they need a statement anyway. They know how much you love them.”

His brows furrow. “You—”

“I took care of it,” you interrupt gently. “So you don’t have to worry, okay? The fans love you, but they love you healthy and not sticky. You can’t give them the show they deserve if you push yourself too hard now. That is not what they deserve.”

Harry lets out a slow breath, his tense shoulders easing just a fraction. He still looks guilty, but there’s also relief in his tired eyes. “You really talked to Jeff?”

You nod. “Of course. Your health comes first, baby. Now please let me take care of you."

You slip out of the room quietly and return with a damp cloth, gently dabbing it against his forehead. The coolness makes him sigh, his tense shoulders relaxing under your touch. Then, you hold up a spoonful of honey-laced tea to his lips. He scrunches his nose but accepts it, swallowing with a soft grimace.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice slightly clearer now.

You smile and brush your fingers over his cheek. “Of course, my love.”

After making sure he’s warm enough, you reach for the small bowl of soup on the nightstand that you kindly asked form the hotel staff. “Just a little, H. You need something in your stomach other than medicine.”

"The fans would've probably ask for me to sing medicine tonight but they can't because I need it. The irony." He said, trying to lighten the room up with a joke but cough wave that crushed him once again.

"Drink Harry." You said sternly.

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he knows better. You lift the spoon to his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, he leans forward and takes a bite. A small, content sigh escapes him, and you can’t help but grin.

“You’re good at this,” he mutters, sleep beginning to weigh heavy on him.

“I'm just good at loving you lovie,” you reply simply, brushing back his curls as he lets his eyes drift shut.

His fingers reach for yours under the blanket, giving them a weak squeeze. “Love you more.”

You sit beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his fever-warmed temple. “Just rest, my love. I’ve got you.”

And with the way he sighs, relaxing into your touch, you know he believes you.

Tomorrow, he’ll probably try to argue again. Try to tell you he feels fine, that he’s ready to get back out there, to put on another show. But for tonight, he’s yours to take care of. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

[kashverse]

How do you think would bf!gojo survive the flu, "IF HE SURVIVES IT"

I think that dudes rarely get sick maybe also because of his infinity but if he gets sick, that he will be the babiest of the babies

the real ones remember @naomigojo's germophobe reader x gojo...can't say i wasn't thinking about it when writing this 🙂‍↕️

gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive, lay draped over you like a particularly dramatic victorian-era widow who had just received word of her beloved's tragic demise in the war. except, in this case, the war was flu season, and the tragic demise was his immune system.

"i have fallen," he wheezed, dramatically throwing his arm over his eyes, his long limbs effectively pinning you to the mattress. his forehead burned against your shoulder, sweat slicking his white hair to his skin. "love has made me weak. love has made me—" he coughed, a truly pathetic sound, before groaning. "—love has made me sick."

"no, i made you sick, dumbass," you croaked, shoving at his shoulder, but he clung to you tighter like a koala with abandonment issues. "i told you not to sleep next to me!"

"and let my sweet, sniffling angel suffer alone? never," he gasped. "never!" another dramatic cough. 

"but now… now i too must bear this curse."

"it's the flu, s'toru."

"oh, so now you don't care that your dear husband is dying?"

"we're not married."

"technicalities," he rasped, reaching for the tissue box and dramatically dabbing his forehead like a victorian lady about to faint at a ballroom dance. except, unfortunately, it was the same tissue you had just blown your nose into.

you gagged. "ewww!"

"sickness of love," he whispered, looking at you with glassy, feverish eyes, voice hoarse but still somehow smug. "our love transcends germs."

"our love is a biohazard."

he chuckled weakly, pressing his fever-warmed forehead against yours. "i feel like i got hit by a train."

"you sound like you got hit by a train."

"oh yeah? well, you sound like a cartoon villain with bronchitis," he shot back, voice cracking pathetically halfway through. he punctuated his insult with an even more pathetic sneeze, which sent his whole body jolting. you felt the full force of it because he was still sprawled on top of you. "get off of me," you groaned, shoving at his heavy frame, but he only groaned dramatically in response.

"no. i must remain close to you. i may not have much time left…"

"you're not dying!"

"…but i shall spend my last moments with my beloved. tell me, my dear," he sniffled, clutching onto your hand. "if i go, will you—"

"i am going to smother you with a pillow."

"oh, how cruel, how heartless!" he gasped, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, as if he were a fainting maiden in a period drama. "to think i have loved you so deeply, only to be cast aside in my weakest moment! oh, woe is me!"

"woe is me," you muttered, forcefully shoving a tissue into his hand. “blow your damn nose, properly, before you start monologuing about the fragility of life again.” he sniffled loudly, taking the tissue before collapsing dramatically against you again, sighing like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"this," you grumbled, voice clogged with congestion, "is exactly why i told you not to sleep next to me."

"but what would be the point of my infinity if i couldn't let it down for the one i love?" he murmured, blinking up at you blearily. despite the absolute mess of tissues, the shared misery of high fevers, and his insufferable dramatics, you sighed, feeling your chest soften ever so slightly. 

"…you're still an idiot," you muttered, tucking the blanket over both of you.

"ah, but i'm your idiot," he murmured back, before promptly sneezing directly onto your shoulder.

…you were going to kill him.

[heliosunny]

hear me out! Hear me out!

Yandere!husband Anaxa x wife!fem reader

Fem reader as his housewife who is oblivious to his yandere things, she just thinking of him as a overprotective type, she like to shower him with kisses and other affection when he come home from work, prepare food for him to bring to his work. Just wife! Fem reader being a good and loveable wife 🤭.

Ohhhh good point!

Yandere!Anaxa x Wife!Fem!Reader

The morning sun bathed the grand estate in golden light as you hummed softly, carefully packing Anaxa’s lunch. His duties as a strategist to the kingdom kept him endlessly busy, but you always made sure he left with a full stomach and a heart brimming with love. As you sealed the final container, warm hands encircled your waist from behind.

“Darling, you’re spoiling me again” Anaxa murmured, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement as he pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck.

You giggled, leaning into his embrace. “That’s my job as your wife, isn’t it?” Turning around, you cupped his face in your hands, admiring his sharp features and piercing gaze, softened only when he looked at you. “I want you to be healthy. Who else will come home for my kisses if not you?”

Anaxa’s lips curled into a smirk, but his arms tightened around you. “You always say such dangerous things, my sweet wife. You know I can’t bear the thought of being away from you.”

You pouted playfully, standing on your toes to pepper kisses all over his face. “Then hurry home today. I’ll be waiting with dinner, and of course, all the kisses you want.”

His eyes darkened, but you thought it was simply his usual overprotective streak. You never noticed the way his fingers twitched, itching to eliminate anything that dared to steal even a fraction of your affection. With one final, lingering kiss to your forehead, Anaxa departed for the palace, leaving you to your daily routine of keeping the house warm and filled with love.

That evening, as the sky deepened into hues of violet and gold, you stood by the front door, eagerly awaiting Anaxa’s return. When the heavy doors finally creaked open, your excitement turned to concern.

Anaxa staggered inside, his usually composed expression marred by exhaustion. His forehead glistened with sweat, his steps slow and unsteady.

“Anaxa!” You rushed to his side, pressing your palm to his forehead. “You’re burning up!”

He let out a breathy chuckle, though his usual confidence was dulled by his fever. “It’s nothing, my love. Just a long day.”

“Nonsense, you’re sick!” you scolded gently, already guiding him toward the bedroom. “You work too hard. I keep telling you to take breaks.”

He let you fuss over him, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you with adoration. You were so utterly devoted, so beautifully oblivious to the lengths he went to ensure your world remained untouched by anything unpleasant.

As you dabbed a cool cloth against his forehead, you sighed. “You’re always protecting me. But who’s going to protect you if you don’t let me take care of you?”

His heart clenched at your sincerity, at the way you loved him so purely despite his countless sins.

With what little strength he had, Anaxa reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Only you, my love” he murmured, his fever making his voice raw yet undeniably affectionate. “I belong only to you.”

You smiled, unaware of the weight behind his words. To you, he was simply your devoted, overprotective husband. To Anaxa, you were the sole light in his world, a light he would destroy kingdoms to keep.

That night, you stayed by Anaxa’s side, ensuring he was comfortable as he rested. He was feverish, but the way he clung to you didn’t change. Even in his weakened state, his arms encircled your waist, refusing to let you stray too far.

“Darling, you should sleep” you murmured, brushing damp strands of his hair away from his face.

His eyes flickered open slightly, locking onto you. “Only if you stay.”

You smiled, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

Satisfied with your promise, he finally allowed his body to relax. His breathing steadied, and for the first time that day, he seemed at peace. You continued to stroke his hair, humming softly until you, too, drifted into sleep beside him.

The next morning, Anaxa was still unwell, though the fever had gone down. You insisted he remain in bed, fussing over him with the utmost care.

“You’re not going to work today” you declared firmly, placing a tray of warm porridge and herbal tea on the bedside table. “The kingdom can survive a day without you.”

Anaxa huffed a quiet laugh, clearly amused by your determination. “You truly are the only one who dares to order me around, my love.”

You pouted. “And you always listen, don’t you?”

“Of course” he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your wrist. “Because everything you do is out of love.”

You beamed, pleased with his response, and leaned forward to press a flurry of kisses all over his face. “Good! Then be a good patient for me, alright?”

He sighed in contentment, basking in your affection. His fever may have left his body weak, but the warmth of your love filled him with a different kind of strength, the kind that made him certain he would do anything to protect this life you shared.

Anaxa remained bedridden for the rest of the day, much to his quiet frustration. His body was still weak, his mind dulled by the remnants of fever, but you were adamant that he rest. You spent the morning at his side, feeding him small spoonfuls of warm porridge and herbal tea.

“See? Isn’t it nice to be taken care of for once?” you teased as you dabbed a cool cloth against his forehead.

Anaxa exhaled softly. “If it means you’ll spoil me like this, I might consider falling ill more often.”

You gasped, lightly swatting his arm. “Don’t joke about that! I hate seeing you sick.”

His smirk softened into something more tender as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “And I hate worrying you, my love.”

Your lips curled into a warm smile. “Then get better soon, alright? You’re not allowed to work yourself to exhaustion anymore.”

Anaxa chuckled but didn’t argue. He could never refuse you, not when you looked at him with such pure devotion. As the day passed, you busied yourself around the house, making sure everything was in order while also preparing a nourishing dinner for Anaxa. Every so often, you’d check in on him, pressing your palm against his forehead to ensure his fever didn’t return.

By evening, he was already feeling much stronger. Though you insisted he stay in bed, he stubbornly pulled you into his arms the moment you entered the room.

“You should be resting” you scolded lightly, though you didn’t resist as he held you close.

“I am” he murmured against your hair. “You’re the best medicine I could ask for.”

You giggled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “You always say the sweetest things.”

Only for you, he thought. Only you deserved his kindness, his warmth. The rest of the world, those who threatened to take even a fraction of your attention away from him, deserved nothing but his cold, calculated ruthlessness.

Anaxa recovered quickly over the next few days, much to your relief. You resumed your usual routine, preparing his meals, seeing him off to work, and welcoming him home with your endless affection.

Everything seemed normal.

But something was different.

You couldn’t quite place it, but Anaxa had been acting a little… off. He was always protective, yes, but now it felt almost suffocating. His touch lingered longer, his eyes never strayed from you, and whenever you mentioned running errands alone, his expression would darken in an almost imperceptible way.

Then, one evening, the illusion of normalcy finally shattered.

Anaxa returned home late that night, his cloak slightly disheveled, his usual pristine gloves stained with something dark.

You gasped the moment he stepped inside. “Anaxa! You’re hurt!”

Rushing to him, you reached for his hands, but he swiftly pulled them back.

“It’s nothing, my love” he said “Just a matter that needed handling.”

Your brows furrowed. “But your gloves—”

“It’s not my blood.”

That should have reassured you. It should have made you sigh in relief. And yet, a cold shiver ran down your spine at the way he said it, so casually, as if it was an afterthought.

You swallowed, trying to push the unease away. “At least let me clean you up.”

He hesitated for a brief moment before finally allowing you to take his hand. You peeled off his stained gloves, revealing his pale, unscathed skin beneath.

No wounds. No injuries. Just blood.

You tried not to let your hands tremble as you wiped them clean, your mind racing with unspoken questions. Who did this blood belong to? What exactly had Anaxa done today?

You knew he worked as the kingdom’s strategist, handling delicate matters behind the scenes. But you had never questioned the extent of his duties. Not until now.

Sensing your unease, Anaxa suddenly lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch was gentle, but his eyes- oh, his eyes were unreadable.

“My love” he murmured, stroking your cheek with his newly cleaned hand. “You trust me, don’t you?”

The way he asked wasn’t pleading, it was a statement, a quiet demand wrapped in velvet.

You hesitated for only a second, and that was enough for his fingers to tighten slightly around your chin.

“Of course, I do” you answered quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. “I just… worry about you.”

Anaxa searched your face for any trace of doubt before his grip softened. “There’s no need to worry” he assured you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “As long as I am here, nothing will ever harm you.”

His words should have been comforting. But they weren’t. Because as he held you close, whispering sweet promises into your ear, you finally understood. Anaxa wasn’t just protecting you from harm. He was eliminating anyone he deemed a threat—without hesitation, without remorse.

One morning, as you were tidying the house, you noticed that some of your letters were missing—the ones from an old friend who had recently visited the city. You frowned, searching through your drawers. Strange, you could have sworn you left them here.

Before you could dwell on it, the front door opened.

“I’m home” Anaxa’s deep voice rang through the house.

Your thoughts immediately scattered. Smiling, you rushed to greet him, throwing your arms around his neck. “Welcome back, my love!”

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you a second longer than usual. “You missed me that much?”

“Always.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling back. “You’re home early today. That’s rare.”

Anaxa hummed, his hand sliding down to rest at your lower back. “I had no reason to linger at the palace. Everything I do is for you, after all.”

His words made your heart flutter, and you laughed, leaning up to kiss him again. “Flatterer. Come sit, I’ll bring you some tea.”

Later that evening, as you set the table for dinner, you hesitated before asking, “By the way, have you seen the letters from my friend? The ones I left in the drawer?”

Anaxa, who was removing his gloves, paused for only a fraction of a second before continuing. “Letters?”

You nodded, glancing toward the desk. “Yes, I wanted to reply, but I couldn’t find them.”

His eyes met yours. Then, he sighed, shaking his head. “I had them disposed of.”

You blinked. “You… what?”

“They were unnecessary.” His voice remained calm, as if he were simply discussing palace affairs. “You don’t need to waste time on people who don’t matter.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure if you heard correctly. “But they were my letters, Anaxa. My friend wrote to me.”

Anaxa exhaled softly, standing from his seat. In two steps, he was in front of you, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers.

“You already have everything you need right here, don’t you? You don’t need distractions.”

You forced a small smile. “You’re really overprotective sometimes, you know that?”

Anaxa’s lips curled slightly. “Only because I love you.”

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a moment before finally releasing you.

You didn’t press the matter further.

But that night, as you lay in bed beside him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Anaxa had decided something for you. And you weren’t sure if you would ever be able to change his mind.

The air between you and Anaxa felt heavier than usual. You tried not to dwell on it, tried to convince yourself that he only acted out of love, but the unease remained.

Still, he was your husband, the man who cherished you, who came home every night to your kisses and warmth. You didn’t want this small rift to linger. So, you decided to mend things in the way you knew best: with love.

That evening, you prepared an elaborate dinner, filling the table with all of Anaxa’s favorite dishes. You carefully arranged everything, ensuring the presentation was perfect.

When he stepped through the door, his eyes flickered in surprise at the sight of the candlelit table.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice smooth yet cautious.

You approached him with a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his waist. “A special dinner for my special husband.”

His gaze softened instantly, and he let out a quiet chuckle.

You led him to his seat, watching as he took his first bite. His expression remained unreadable, but the subtle way his shoulders relaxed told you he appreciated the effort.

As you ate together, you finally gathered the courage to speak.

“Anaxa,” you began hesitantly. “About earlier…”

He set his utensils down. “You’re still thinking about that?”

You exhaled, trying to choose your words carefully. “I just… I want you to understand that my friends aren’t a threat to us. I love you more than anything, but I also have people I care about.”

His expression remained unreadable for a long moment. Then, slowly, he sighed.

“I know.”

You blinked in surprise.

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I know I can be overbearing” he admitted, his voice quieter. “It’s just… I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Even the smallest distractions feel like something that could take you away from me.”

Your heart clenched.

Oh. So that’s what it was.

You reached across the table, gently taking his hand. “Anaxa… you’re not going to lose me. Ever. I chose you. And I’ll keep choosing you, every single day.”

His fingers tightened around yours, and for the first time in days, the tension in his body seemed to ease.

“You promise?”

You smiled, standing up and moving around the table to sit on his lap. He stiffened slightly at first, but you cupped his face, kissing him sweetly.

“I promise.” you murmured against his lips.

Anaxa exhaled slowly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you impossibly close. Perhaps he was possessive. Perhaps his love was intense. But he was yours, just as you were his. And he was more than content.

[totheblood]

protective!spencer reid headcanons

a/n: this is a remake of one of my headcanons i did for ellie but i completely rewrote it cause yea... AI AUDIOS throughout, also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

spencer is extremely protective of you, more than anyone else in his life... he just doesn't know how to show it

he knows that the job entails danger and as much as he doesn't like it, there isn't much he can do about it

but that doesn't stop him from trying

when you partner up on cases together he always makes sure he enters first, a hand outstretched to make sure you're always covered

"it's clear, you can come on in now," he would whisper, gun still drawn. 

"spence, you don't have to do that every time."

"i know," he'd say with a small smile, "but i want to."

he tries not to coddle you. he has seen you take down unsubs twice your size(which he would be lying if he said it didn't turn him on), but sometimes his protective instincts just take over.

he'd rather put himself at risk than see you hurt. even after you're cursing him out, hands in a balled up fist banging on his kelvar vest. 

"what the fuck was that?" you'd yell, face getting hot, "i had him, and you could've gotten yourself killed,"

with an ice pack pressed to his forehead where the unsub got a punch in he closed his eyes gently, "i know, i know... i didn't even think, i just saw his hands on you and i just... look, i'm sorry for scaring you but i'm never going to be sorry for protecting you."

but when you get injured on a case, he just loses it

"what were you thinking, running in like that with no back up?" he'd scold while gently dabbing at the wound on your arm. 

"spence, I'm fine, it's just a scratch."

"just... be more careful next time, okay?" he'd say softly, looking around to make sure no one was watching before pressing a gentle kiss to your forhead, “i… can’t lose you.”

or if you were partnered with someone else and you came back with even a semblance of a bruise, he'd have his eyebrows furrowed, lips twisted into a scowl as he approached you, hands gently holding your arms, his face softening when you wince at the contact

"what happened?" he'd say voice tight, looking up at morgan who was trailing in behind you, looking guilty as ever. 

as derek opened his mouth to speak, you spoke up, "it wasn't his fau-"

"i didn't see him coming," morgan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "i got him off of her the minute he was on her."

"he shouldn't have had a chance to be on her," spencer spat back angrily.

"spence, it all happened in a matter of seconds," you say, voice sickeningly sweet as you tried to sooth his nerves, "i didn't see him coming either,"

"i know," he sighed, closing his eyes as he took a shaky breath in, "i know, but all it takes is one second and you could be..."

"i know," you pull him into a hug, his tall frame leaning down to wrap you in his arms, "but i'm here and i'm okay."

his protectiveness extends beyond the field too. 

the team would be out for drinks at o'keeffe's, you with a saltrimmed glass as you sat next to him. as you licked the edges, and drank your margarita with a satisfied grin, he would smile to himself, his smile dropping the minute a tall gruff man approached the two of you 

spencer's fingers twitch as the man puts his hand on the small of your back, taking notice in how your body tenses immediately and you laugh nervously. 

when he was in front of the team he wasn't your boyfriend spencer, he was your coworker spencer and as much as you planned on keeping it that way, spencer's patience was wearing thin each second the man's hand was on you. 

he'd cringe as you lean away from the man, mumbling some excuse like "i have a boyfriend," which made spencer's lips quirk upwards, just for a moment before he realized the man was still leaning into you, whispering, "he doesn't have to know,"

it's then that he steps in, getting up from his seat and stepping in between you and the man, flashing his badge at him with a quirked eyebrow and tight voice as he said, "i believe my colleague has made it clear she's not interested."

after a long case, one he knows hits you harder than the other's he is insisting you go to his apartment with him, his hands linking in yours the minute he's in the car and rubbing soothing circles into your palm

his voice is soft as he speaks over the radio, "everything okay, baby?"

"yeah," you would mumble, but he knows you too well and he knows that's not true. but he also knows you well enough to not bring it up again, choosing to distract you with your favorite songs on the drive or a warm bath when you get home, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he bathes you

when you're sick, he shows up with:

homemade soup (his mother's recipe), herbal teas, and your favorite books which he reads to you, despite your protests for him to stay away.

instead he'd be telling you to open up as he fed you chicken soup while speaking to you gently, "did you know that chicken soup can actually help reduce inflammation? the chicken and vegetables in chicken soup actually inhibit the migration of neutrophils which can help you breathe better."

in public, his eyes always find you. especially at work he is glancing over at you from his desk, pen in his hand tapping the desk as he looks over at you for the thirteenth time that hour. 

"she's fine, kid. she's not going to magically disappear from her desk," derek teases, as he leans on spencer's desk, looking over at where your eyes finally met his and gave him a soft smile. 

"i know. i just like seeing her smile," spencer replies, voice soft as he smiles back at you.