#honestly at this point maybe I should give up and not click on new fics from this author

[britishdisasters]

.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Fools in Love

Kim Mingyu x fem!Reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

Words: 10.5k

Warnings: adult language. mentions of stalking (no one’s actually stalked). reader has a lot of conflicting feelings and it takes her three to five business days to figure everything out.

[UNI AU] When Jeonghan made you declare a stranger in the library your new boyfriend, you had a very different outcome in your mind.

Note: for some reason, my bestie @luvlino really liked this fic as a WIP and I promised to finish it for her eventually, so here we are. anyways, we've been referring to this fic as "himbo!gyu" all this time

You should’ve known it wouldn’t end well. 

The first sign should have been the shiver up your spine when Jeonghan’s lips quirked into a smile that you knew far too well. The second sign should have definitely been your voice of reasons cursing and hatching ridiculously elaborate escape plans. 

He leaned forward against the table between you two, maintaining eye contact. “So what do you say?”

“Sorry,” you blinked and shook your head, “I wasn’t paying attention. What were you saying?”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Of course you weren’t.”

“When is she ever?” Joshua half-joked, nose deep in an oddly specific magazine he’d picked up in a procrastination daze. He looked up briefly to give you a once over before humming to himself, “Honestly, it might be for the better.”

“As I was saying,” Jeonghan glared at Joshua before offering you a sickeningly sweet smile – and there was that shiver up your spine again –, “go up to pretty boy over there and tell him he’s your boyfriend now.”

“I don’t even like him,” you muttered, glancing at the boy as discreetly as you could. You almost bit your tongue at your hasty words because the slight furrow of his brow and his jawline had your heart screeching. You frowned, head whipping back to look at Jeonghan. “Wait, what’s in it for me?”

If his wide eyes were anything to go by, he was as clueless as you were. With a sheepish shrug, he offered, “I’ll buy you a candy bar? You like Snickers, right?”

You stared at him in wonder for a while but were soon interrupted by Joshua’s scandalised gasp. “Is it because Snickers is on sale at the convenience store this week?” 

Jeonghan blinked slowly. “Why else?”

Your gaze drifted back to the mysterious student sitting across the library, now scribbling notes in his iPad between puzzled head-scratches. The part of you that wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and go through with the dare was growing by the second.

But before you could agree, the dad friend of the group finally decided to speak up. Seungcheol placed a hand on your shoulder and looked you right in the eyes. “You do know that you don’t have to agree to every bet Jeonghan gives you, right? Please tell me that you know that.”

Seeing the worry in his eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were starting to develop a gambling problem with the help of Yoon Jeonghan. But what’s one more bet anyway?

“One Snickers bar?” you repeated back and Jeonghan nodded. Your eyes narrowed. “Make it three and a can of cola.”

He had the audacity to gasp. “That’s robbery!”

“Not if you’re the one paying,” Joshua pointed out rather off-handedly, still more focused on his magazine. (You took a moment to identify the issue in his hands as ‘Practical Sheep, Goats and Alpacas’ and once again wondered how you became friends with this gem of a human.)

Jeonghan grumbled, slumping in his seat. “Fine. Three Snickers bars and a can of cola, but you have to go up to him and tell him he’s your boyfriend now and then walk away like nothing happened.”

“Bet.”

Beside you, Seungcheol sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I should’ve just joined the Italians for that group project back in the first year. Why did I choose you idiots instead of the Italians?”

“You love us.” Jeonghan winked. He then slumped in his seat, a soft pout on his lips. “By the way, speaking of the Italians, I found one of the girls crying last night.”

“Crying? Why?” you wondered. “Was she okay?”

“Apparently her boyfriend broke up with her, over text no less,” Jeonghan sighed, filled with compassion as always. “She looked really heartbroken. I had to comfort her for hours.”

Joshua frowned. “So that’s where you were.”

“Did you find out who the jerk was?” Seungcheol asked. “You should’ve at least gone and given him a good slap upside the head.”

“Kim Mingyu. That’s the jerk’s name.”

Seungcheol grimaced. “That guy deserves even worse. I swear there seems to be another heartbreak with his name written all over it every three days.”

“Well, anyways!” Jeonghan cheered up again, clapping his hands together excitedly. “You get to be the heartbreaker today, oh my dear (Y/n).”

“When are you going up to him then?” Joshua wondered, setting his magazine aside as curiosity took over. For someone claiming to be well-mannered, he sure loved any implications of impending drama. “I’m not sure how long he’ll stay cooped up in here.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, grabbing your bag and phone. “I’m going now and leaving you guys behind.”

“Oh, right!” Seungcheol smiled. “You said you’re going plant shopping, right?”

“Plant shopping?!” screeched Jeonghan, clearly caught unaware. “Don’t you already have, like, three plants?”

“I don’t have a neon pothos yet,” you reasoned timidly. Joshua nodded in approval as Seungcheol watched you with a fond smile, much resembling a proud father. 

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow before turning to Seungcheol. “And you’re telling me that I am a bad influence on her?”

“I’m going!” you called out softly, slow steps leading you away from the four-seat table in the art section of the library. You watched warily as the boys argued between themselves. “Guys?”

“– and just the other day you told her to –” Seungcheol interrupted himself with a cough to offer you a bright smile, silently asking you what you needed.

“I’m leaving,” you whispered theatrically loudly and nodded towards the mysterious stranger in front of whom you were about to make a fool out of yourself. 

As always, Jeonghan was the first to catch on. He offered a wink. “Good luck, baby.”

You felt your lunch crawl up your throat at the nickname and the suddenly wide eyes of Joshua told you he felt the same way. You shook it off and headed towards the exit.

On the way out of the building, you took a deep breath and stopped in front of your victim’s desk. Feeling like a middle-schooler preparing to recite a poem by heart, you clasped your hands in front of your body and cleared your throat.

At the sudden interruption, the handsome man glanced up, eyes wide in surprise. He mirrored your smile, setting his pen aside as he waited for you to speak.

You didn’t need to look back to feel Jeonghan’s and Joshua’s curious stares on you. But you were nothing if not a good sport, so you forced your smile to brighten a little bit more before looking the man in his eyes and announcing, “As of right now, you are my boyfriend.”

If you hadn’t been the cause of it, the sudden drop of his jaw and the bulging of his eyes would have amused you beyond human comprehension. But unlike Jeonghan and Joshua, you did have an ounce of dignity and compassion, so you offered one last smile before scurrying out of the library.

As you set foot outside the library, you left behind a confused man and a half-hearted promise.

You spent the rest of the week praying and hoping and praying again that you wouldn’t run into the tall mysterious stranger who had become your friends’ newest inside joke. So far, you've been successful.

“Here,” Jeonghan slammed three Snickers bars down on your desk on Monday and sighed, “your payment.”

Your eyes naturally fell into a suspicious squint. “Where’s the cola?”

Jeonghan offered a tight-lipped smile and a pat on your shoulder. “Jihoon needs it more than you do. Think of the children, Y/n.”

You failed to see how Lee Jihoon who had just three days ago publicly threatened to choke Kwon Soonyoung with his freshly broken guitar string could be considered a child, but you assumed there was a good reason. So you decided to let it slide just this once (or at least until Joshua would feel bad for you and buy you the cola himself).

Until then, you would take what you could get. 

Frankly, by this point, you were starting to forget about the library incident. It was just a bet like every other. This was no different from the time when Jeonghan dared you to guilt-trip Seungcheol into giving you his favourite hoodie. 

Except when you caught the eye of a handsome stranger as he walked into the classroom, you knew that was about to change. His lips slowly curved into a smile and you just knew that this was the end of your life as you knew it.

Instinctively, you shuffled around to make yourself seem as small and insignificant as possible. The ceiling looked far more attractive than ever before while you hoped that maybe this man had terrible eyesight and he’d mistake you for part of the furniture. Or maybe he’d at least buy into the idea that it had been a different girl who harassed him at the library.

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” the man spoke a bit too smugly as he approached the desk you and Jeonghan had chosen for the lecture. His smile brightened even more. “I guess I’m your boyfriend now.”

But before you could protest or even comprehend what was happening, he winked and headed further back into the classroom. When you glanced over your shoulder, you found him sitting next to Jeon Wonwoo, a smile on his face. He offered you one last (and, in your opinion, excessive) wink before turning back to his seatmate.

You turned to glare at Jeonghan who looked just as baffled as you felt. Under your threatening stare, his silence slowly turned into nervous laughter. “Well… That was not the outcome I expected…”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” you couldn’t help but bite back before groaning and hiding your face in your hands. “Has he been in this class this whole time?”

“I guess he always sits towards the back,” Jeonghan concluded slowly, “so we wouldn’t have seen him but he would have seen us.”

You wished he’d come to that conclusion a few days earlier. “You owe me that cola and then some more, Yoon.”

Sitting across from you at the little campus cafe, Joshua shared a glance with Seungcheol. The latter shrugged so he decided he had to be the one to take action. 

“So,” he started somewhat hesitantly, fully aware of what an angry you was capable of, “do you want to tell us what happened?”

“What do you mean?” you feigned ignorance all the while aggressively stirring your soup of the day. “Nothing interesting ever happens here.”

Thoroughly unconvinced, Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“I think something happened in class today,” Joshua elaborated slowly. It was only then that you remembered he had taken a fair share of psychology classes. “Do you want to talk about it? Was it Jeonghan again?”

As both a surprise and the expected outcome, you slammed your spoon on the table. “That jerk! Do you know what he did?”

Joshua’s almost failed attempt to swallow down a sarcastic comment could be seen by any bystander but you paid it no mind.

“Do you remember the guy from the library? You know, the one.”

“The tall guy?” Seungcheol wondered. You nodded. “I remember him.”

“Turns out he’s in our literature class!” You clapped your hands together in a fit of rage. “And now I have to spend the rest of the semester in the same room as him every Monday.”

Joshua blinked. “That doesn’t seem too bad.”

“He winked at me today. Twice. And he kept smiling at me too.”

“Oh.” Joshua tried to find a different word of comfort. He was out of words for the day. Perhaps his last psychology essay had really stolen half his personal dictionary. “That’s… rough, buddy.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Seungcheol whispered so faintly you barely heard. He glanced towards the door and surely enough, as if he’d heard your words in the wind, the man of the hour walked into the cafe. 

You almost swooned at the way his shirt rode up a little as he stretched his arms up and at the smile and friendly greeting he offered the cashier. His voice soon filled the cafe with a sense of warmth, like he belonged right there. 

“Busy day?” you heard him as the cashier as he made his way behind the counter. “Lots of customers today?”

The cashier chuckled. “Nothing more than usual. They’re your customers now though.”

You turned to Joshua and Seungcheol again, hiding your face behind your strategically placed menu. “He works here?!”

“Listen, I was not any wiser than you,” Joshua justified with wide and apologetic eyes. “Maybe he won’t recognize you.”

“I’m highly doubtful,” Seungcheol pointed out rather lazily, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window. “He’s recognized her once, what’s a few more times?”

You were deeply grateful for the silence that took over afterwards, happily ignoring the silent conversation of blinks and nudges your two friends were having. You lifted your hood up and stirred your soup a few more times before taking your first spoonful – the sooner you start, the sooner you finish, and the sooner you can leave this personal hell of yours to hide in your bedroom.

“Well, I think Cheol had a point in that,” Joshua suddenly whispered, nudging your leg under the table. For once, you had no intention to look up.

With a soft clink, a plate was placed on the table. You found a piece of the cake of the day in front of you and glanced up. The ‘boyfriend’ offered you a wide smile and nodded to your food. “Eat well. Cake’s on the house for you, sweetheart.”

Without another word, he shuffled back to the counter and resumed his task of re-organizing the cake display. 

“...Did that just happen?” Seungcheol wondered, eyeing your cake in a way that made you wary with good reason. “And can I please have a bite?”

You blinked and pushed the plate towards your friend. His smile lit up the room as he reached for a spoon and began munching away. When you glanced towards the counter again, you found your ‘boyfriend’ watching you with a sweet smile, a puzzled look in his eyes and a puppy-like curious tilt to his head. 

Promptly you made the decision to avoid this cafe at all costs.

The mysterious boy who hadn’t existed to you just a week ago suddenly seemed to be following you around like a shadow. He was everywhere you went. It almost felt like a bad dream.

He had already chewed you out of your favourite cafe and now he seemed determined to make it so there was nowhere you could go in peace.

You’d go to class, and 6 out of 10 times he was there too, already nose-deep in his notes at the back of the classroom. There was nowhere you could sit to hide from the glint of recognition in his eyes and the charmingly bright smile he directed your way each time.

You’d go to the grocery store and voila! He was there! Picking out watermelons like he knew exactly what he was doing (you were fairly sure he didn’t because, honestly, who even knows how to pick out watermelons?).

You’d go to the park across the street from the dorms and turn back on your heel because he was, once again, there, flexing his muscles as he warmed up for a run with his fratboy friends. 

“I honestly think you’re being a little bit overdramatic,” Jeonghan told you softly as you attempted to hide behind a bookshelf at the library. You paid him no mind.

The mysterious ‘boyfriend’ was here as well. You had almost betrayed yourself and squeaked when you recognized him reading a book synopsis right next to you.

“Maybe he’s stalking me. Maybe that’s why he’s always exactly where I am,” you theorised while watching him like a hawk from your hiding spot. Jeonghan leaned his head out of the shadows to take a good look at the boy but you harshly pulled him back to hiding by his collar. 

You glared at your friend before whispering, “You’ll get us caught like this, idiot!”

He raised an unimpressed brow. “Are you sure he’s the one stalking you and not the other way around?”

“I– That’s impossible! Who do you think I am?!” You so wished to curse him out but you still had some manners left. You scoffed. “Just shut up and let me suffer in peace.”

When you turned back to watch the mysterious guy, however, your soul almost left your body. He was right there –  right in front of you, leaning against the bookshelf – smiling at you like it was the most natural thing. 

“Hi,” he spoke. You wished his voice wasn’t so enjoyably husky. 

You offered a tight-lipped smile, hand already reaching for Jeonghan’s sleeve to drag him out of the library and give him another earful for putting you in this situation. “Hi.”

It was hard to tell which was worse: the adorable smile the stranger offered you at your reply or the judgmental glare of Jeonghan which told you that your voice had betrayed you once again. You were doomed either way.

“I just realised we see each other so often but I don’t even know your name,” the stranger spoke and he seemed almost shy with the way he fiddled with the string of his black hoodie. 

Before you could open your mouth to either tell him to leave or tell him a random name you came up with on the spot, Jeonghan jumped into the conversation a bit too enthusiastically, “I’m Jeonghan! This is my best friend, (Y/n). Please take good care of her for me. I have to go help my friend get his cat out of the oven.”

And just like that you had lost another friend. You’d be sure to tell Seungcheol about this to make his disappearance official. Traitors were not welcome in your group.

“Your name’s pretty,” the stranger told you softly, still fiddling and looking down at his sneakers. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he actually had a crush on you. “Pretty like you are.” He cleared his throat and looked at you once again, forcing a wide smile. “I’m Kim Mingyu.”

It took every ounce of muscle control and brain power you had left not to let your jaw drop. 

“What?!” Seungcheol screeched before glaring at Jeonghan like he’d just been caught in the act of murdering a beloved family pet. “You little– You set her up with a frat boy!”

Jeonghan saw no problem with it. “I’m pretty sure you almost became a frat boy, Cheol.”

“That’s different!” 

“And Joshua was literally in a frat until this year!”

Joshua did not appreciate his name being brought into this conversation. He rolled his eyes before offering you a look that told you that he blamed you for all of this. “You do realise I left the frat for a reason, right?”

“Yes, we know,” Jeonghan waved his protests away off-handedly, “you got caught making out with the president’s girl. Nothing to brag about.”

You could barely hold your laugh as Joshua’s jaw dropped, scandalised and exasperated. “Where did that rumour even come from?! Seriously! That is not what happened!”

“Eh, close enough.” Jeonghan shrugged. “Anyways, how was I supposed to know that guy was the Kim Mingyu? It’s not like he wears a name tag! None of you could recognize him either.”

A moment of realisation dawned on you. You let out a soft cry. “Dude, he sat with Jeon Wonwoo. Who else could he have been?”

“Wonwoo’s pretty okay though,” Joshua pointed out. “Not sure about Mingyu.”

“Didn’t Mingyu date like 30 girls just last semester? They say he’s sort of crazy about women or something. Falls in love too quickly.” Seungcheol sighed before glaring at Jeonghan. “You couldn’t have picked literally anyone else?”

“Who?” Jeonghan scoffed. “Joshua? You?”

“The fact that those are the only other options you saw is really concerning,” you mumbled while hiding your face in your hands.

Of course your luck had gotten you entangled in a situation with the university’s biggest womaniser. You were Screwed with a capital S.

“Just avoid him,” Seungcheol had drilled into your head that evening. “Avoid him and don’t look him in the eyes. Just walk in the opposite direction if you see him. Do not let him speak to you or you’ll fall into his trap.”

You leaned against the wall in front of the locked lecture hall door, lost in your thoughts. The laptop in your hands offered a nice grounding weight to remind you to not float too far away, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

Perhaps you should’ve found it amusing that your best friends were treating this guy as some sort of a mythical creature – a siren of some sort that could charm people into a relationship with a smile and two words. But you were more annoyed than anything.

How could this guy appear everywhere you went all the while offering you wide smiles! He seemed less harmful than a golden retriever puppy when he smiled and it annoyed you to no end. Perhaps you were more of a cat person… 

“Hi!” 

You almost jumped in your spot. Your lungs filled with air and your heart rate picked up immensely; it felt like you were coming back to life with the scare. With a wary tightening of your grip you made sure you hadn’t dropped your laptop. 

Who in the hell–

“Damn it,” you cursed under your breath when you caught his eyes. By now you could recognize the chocolate-like shade of them anywhere. Remembering Seungcheol’s words, you quickly looked away and spoke no more.

Mingyu continued smiling at you – he always did – and spoke, “Did you sleep well last night? Have you had breakfast?”

A part of you felt bad for ignoring his caring questions. But feeling bad about this was better than getting scolded by Seungcheol… Mingyu could survive a one-sided conversation.

“Here,” he spoke again, his voice soon followed by plastic crinkling.

You felt the wrapper of a candy bar press against the back of your hand. It was impossible to ignore and so you opened your hand. A Snickers bar. 

Looking up at him was your next mistake. You swear your heart malfunctioned when his smile widened a little. The twinkle in his eyes showed how proud he was of himself before his words could. “I bought it for you. I saw your friend give you three of those, like, weeks ago, so I figured…” He shrugged and looked away shyly. “I figured you might like it.”

Speaking was your second mistake that day. “I do. Thank you.”

The wide smile he offered in return would be engraved into your memory for weeks to come. “So you do speak!” 

You realised your error then and there. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you looked up and down the hallway. “You thought I couldn’t?”

“Well, no,” Mingyu hummed. “It’s just that you’ve never spoken to me since that day at the library and I was getting worried.” He smiled again. “I like your voice. It suits you well.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, fingers grasping the candy bar and your laptop a bit tighter as you willed this interaction to end. Except a part of you – a stupid, dumb, hopelessly romantic part – didn’t want it to end yet. And so, you spoke again, “I didn’t realise you took this class too.”

“I had an annoying free slot in my timetable this semester, so I decided to sign up,” he told you easily, already moving to lean against the wall as well, positioning himself right next to you and just close enough for comfort. “It’s quite fun.”

“The professor’s great. Though the assignments–”

“Annoying, right?” he interjected with an annoyed groan and you couldn’t help but agree. “I mean, weekly reading diaries? 40 pages to read each week? Why?”

“The formatting is so dumb too,” you added. “It always takes me at least thirty minutes just to make sure it’s the correct format and reference style.”

Mingyu nodded enthusiastically. “I almost regret taking this class because of the stupid assignment formatting alone.” 

You weren’t prepared for how your heart skipped a small beat at his next words. 

“But seeing you here makes it a lot better.”

You decided to not tell your friends about the interaction. It was better this way. You could keep a secret from them. Easy-peasy. 

It had already been an entire day and they had no idea. You could easily do this forever.

“You’re hiding something from us,” Seungcheol concluded just thirty seconds after you sat down across from him at the library. You gulped. “I don’t like this.”

Abandoning his magazine, Joshua raised an eyebrow, eyeing Seungcheol weirdly between curious glances at you. “How do you know?”

“I know my friends very well,” the oldest replied – his voice a pitch lower than usual to prove a point – and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, “and I know my friends would never ever lie to me or hide something from me.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, an arm wrapping around your anxiously shaky shoulders. “Does she look like a liar to you, Cheol? She’s not the lying type. Oh.” He offered you a worried look. “Are you cold? You’re shaking. Do want me to–”

“I knew it!” Seungcheol slammed his hands onto the table loudly enough to gain the attention of the entire student body at the library at that moment. You could not have felt more ashamed, but he seemed unbothered. 

He practically hissed at you. “What aren’t you telling us? What’s so bad that you can’t tell us about it?”

“Wait, you’re actually hiding something?” Joshua caught on, gasping. “Seriously?” He leaned forward immediately, chest pressed against wood as he practically lied on top of the desk, barely inches from your face. “What is it?”

“You can tell us, you know,” Jeonghan softly told you. It was in these rare moments that you remembered why Jeonghan was your best friend among these three. “We’re not gonna be mad.”

But oh how wrong he was.

“I–” You took a deep breath under their curious gazes. “I might have spoken to Mingyu yesterday.”

“Might have?” Joshua sighed softly and fell back into his chair in defeat. “Great. So in (Y/n) language that means you had a heart-to-heart in front of the anthropology lecture room.”

You were a little concerned that he could read you that well.

“It’s not that bad,” Jeonghan defended you, almost offended on your behalf. “Why would she–” His eyes narrowed at the candy wrapper still peeking out from your pocket. He sighed right after and almost broke his chair with how heavily he leaned back into it. “Did he give you food? You spoke to him in exchange for food?”

Seungcheol caught your eye and looked like he wanted to slam his head against the wall. “(Y/n), what did we talk about last time?”

“You told me to avoid him,” you whispered shamefully.

“Right. I did. Because men are wolves and Kim Mingyu is the worst of them all.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes crinkling shut. “You’re gonna get your heart broken so bad, my dear.”

“He honestly doesn’t seem so bad though,” you pointed out after a pause of silence. “He’s pretty nice.”

“That is–” Joshua sighed deeply before letting out a sound akin to a sob. “That is exactly the problem. He’s too nice. He’s nice to all the girls and they all fall for him and he falls for them and then the perfect daydream is crushed and they break up and he moves onto the next girl that catches his eye. You’re going to get your heart broken like this.”

Seungcheol had now leaned his face onto the desk, forehead pressed against his textbook. “I’d honestly rather you dated Wonwoo. That guy at least doesn’t have commitment issues.”

“Who has commitment issues?” a familiar husky voice spoke from the side. 

The four of you collectively jumped and stared at the source of the sound. Kim Mingyu, standing at the end of your four-seat desk with an awkward smile and a small pink bento box in hand. 

“You– What are you doing here?” Jeonghan sputtered, hand reaching for yours protectively under the desk – a subconscious attempt to ground and comfort you.

Mingyu held up the container in his hand before sliding it over to you. He gave you an affectionate pat on the head before telling you, “I made you lunch. Figured you might need it with all the studying you have planned for today. I’m cheering for you! You’ll nail this assignment!”

Without another word – but not without one last shy yet charming sweet smile on his way out after he almost tripped over the carpet – he left you be. The food container remained in front of you. 

Joshua stared at the box for a moment, mouth agape. “He brought you food?”

“How did he even know you’d be here?” Seungcheol wondered while scratching his head in thought. “Does he really stalk you?”

“No, but… I might have let it slip yesterday that I would be studying all day with you guys,” you mumbled and reached for the bento box somewhat sheepishly. 

You barely managed to reach to open it before Seungcheol slid it away from you and opened it himself. The smell of warm homemade food filled the room. 

Seungcheol glared at you when you tried to move to get your food back. He slid it further from your reach and picked up the chopsticks placed into the box. “I’m eating it. You don’t deserve to eat after what you’ve done.”

“He literally brought this for me though?” you grumbled but relented and leaned back into your seat. 

You watched enviously as Seungcheol fed a bite to Joshua and the latter moaned in delight. “Oh my god, this is amazing. Wow. Is this homemade?”

“It sure looks like it,” Seungcheol sighed and offered you another glare before sliding the box closer to you again. “You’re so lucky I love you.” 

You cheered quietly – you wouldn’t go hungry this time.

It seemed that Mingyu’s boldness dialled up by one notch every week. 

Gone were the days when you’d go to class on Mondays, fearing (read: hoping) he’d meet your eyes and smile at you as he walked to the back of the class. 

You came to the realisation as both you and Jeonghan stared at him on this Monday morning. 

Softly gasping for air but still carrying an air of nonchalant pride that seemed to follow him everywhere, Kim Mingyu slumped into the otherwise free seat on your other side. He let out a groan and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

“God, I hate the stairs,” he eventually sighed before straightening up again and offering you a small smile. “Hi.”

You looked at him, glanced back at where Wonwoo was seated – nose deep in his Macbook, a little too deep in the day’s readings –, and back at him. Jeonghan did the same. You shared a look. Then, you turned to Mingyu and asked, “Are you okay?”

Both he and Jeonghan seemed baffled by your question. But whereas Jeonghan’s confusion could be described as “that is not what we discussed, girl??”, Mingyu's seemed to be more joyous.

His smile brightened just a bit. “Yeah,” he breathed out, “I’m just scared of elevators.”

Not what you had asked for, but you decided you’d take it.

“You climbed up the stairs?” Jeonghan wondered, eyes widening by the second. “Five floors?”

“The elevator is terrifying, okay?” Mingyu whined and rested his head on your shoulder. 

You barely noticed the gesture, instinctually leaning your head to rest on his. It was only Jeonghan’s disbelieving glare that seemed to snap you out of whatever Mingyu-induced daze you were in.

You startled back upright, surprising Mingyu who straightened up as well, head whipping around to find whatever had scared you so. When he found nothing even remotely threatening, he blinked in surprise. “What was that?”

Under Jeonghan’s amused stare, you cleared your throat and feigned nonchalance. “What was what?”

“That– You– I– You–” Mingyu stuttered almost frantically, unable to find the words. You decided he was rather cute after all. 

No, dumbass. You had made a promise to Seungcheol – no boyfriends, especially ones named Kim Mingyu. You shook your head to remind yourself of that when you almost drowned into the browns of his confused eyes. 

“I think the lack of oxygen is getting to you,” Jeonghan decided to save you this time. He leaned his head on his hand propped up on the desk. When you and your “boyfriend” looked at him weird, he shrugged. “He climbed up five floors. His poor brain’s probably on the verge of dying.”

While you thought it was ridiculous, the half-assed explanation seemed to fit Mingyu’s logic just fine.

“Well, there does tend to be less oxygen up high,” Mingyu agreed, eyes narrowing in thought and head nodding along. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

It didn’t make sense but you weren’t in any mood to explain the modern wonder of air conditioning and ventilation to this poor guy yet. Maybe on your fifth date. 

Wait–

Before you could gather your thoughts, the professor cleared her throat and began the lecture. All eyes were on her – for the first two minutes anyway. 

But you were still perplexed. Had you just really considered – even in a roundabout way – actually dating Kim Mingyu? You glanced to your left; he sat right there, pretty brown eyes fully focused on the lecturer, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard… The warm lights of the lecture hall seemed to make him glow. 

Ethereal. Breathtaking. His jawline must’ve been sculpted by the gods themselves.

No wonder all the girls fell for him.

As you were about to shake that thought from your head, you felt Jeonghan lean closer to you. Your heart stopped as you felt his breath on your ear. He whispered, “Don’t let Seungcheol find out about your crush.”

Gritting your teeth, you considered your options: 

a) You could pretend you didn’t hear him – he’d never let you live it down though.

b) You could just shrug it off and act like he was dumb for even suggesting you’d have a crush on a heartbreaker like Kim Mingyu – but he knew you better than that and you’d be caught in a lie.

c) “He won’t find out if you don’t tell him,” you whispered back, glaring at him over your back. 

Jeonghan’s lips curved into an amused smirk, his brow quirking up. “Yeah? And how do you know I won’t tell him your little secret?”

“Because if you do, I’ll tell him it was you who’s been sneaking expensive drinks on our pub bills.”He paled immediately – option c: success.

As you walked to class on Thursday, you decided to stop acting like you disliked Mingyu. 

Coming to terms with your crush had taken a few mental breakdowns and a few too many crying-emoji-filled messages to Jeonghan over the last two days. It was a small price to pay.

For the first time since that fateful day at the library, you approached him first. You headed straight towards the lecture room, beelined straight for him – leaned against the wall, reading something off his phone –, and offered him a friendly smile. “Hi.”

He looked up immediately – with such force that you worried his neck would snap – and mirrored your smile. You had to hold back from swooning; god, he really did look like a golden retriever puppy. 

“Hi,” he replied and locked his phone, hiding it in his back pocket and reaching for your hand on instinct. Unfortunately, you hadn’t come to terms with your crush that much yet, and so you hid your hands behind your back. He seemed to take the hint just fine.

His smile never disappeared as he watched you, seeming to almost adore you just for standing in front of him. “Something feels different today,” he finally mentioned. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” You laughed.

“Yeah,” he nodded decisively, and you felt proud for doing something to brighten his day, only for your heart to skip a beat at his next words, “you should smile more often.”

“I– What?”

His grin widened. “You almost never smile at me. But you’re smiling today. I like that.”

If you hadn’t decided to just accept your new-found crush earlier, you sure would have now. 

His ears burned red – as you felt yours must have been – and he cleared his throat while bashfully looking at the ground. He bounced in his spot for a moment before asking, “Did you eat yet?”

“Had a granola bar on the way here,” you confessed shamefully after a moment of thought. “In my defence, I almost missed my bus.”

“Same here,” he laughed, glancing up again. He hesitated only for a moment before suggesting, “Do you want to come to the cafe with me after the class?” When you didn’t immediately answer – too busy trying to figure out if this was real or you had developed a very bad case of hallucinations – he softly added, "I could get you cheesecake for free.”

And just like that you were ready to marry this man. Seungcheol, Joshua and Jeonghan could eat dirt – they were probably just jealous that you were getting someone’s attention and they were sad unlovable loners. Yeah, that was definitely it. No other reason why they’d try to prevent you from falling in love with this wonderful guy who was promising you free cheesecake.

“I’d love that,” you replied with a bright smile. 

Exactly two hours later, you found yourself in a booth at the café you had previously sworn to boycott, sitting across from the very reason you had declared your boycott to begin with. Life is strange, you concluded, but found yourself unable to look away from him.

“Cheesecake for the lady,” Mingyu smiled proudly as he presented the plate to you. Seeing your thankful and excited smile, he winked, “I made sure to get you the biggest slice they had.”

You could’ve kissed him on the mouth for that comment alone.

“So,” he began as the two of you settled further into your seats, getting more comfortable, “what’s your major?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer his question before shooting back, “And you?”

“Graphic design,” he told you with a shrug. “It was either that or business.”

“Nice,” you nodded along though you were unable to find any further words. You silently cursed yourself for being so damn awkward with strangers. Did Mingyu even count as a stranger? Was he your friend? An acquaintance? Your boyfriend?

He seemed to sense your internal turmoil, reaching a hand over the table to hold yours. “Are you always this awkward with people?”

“Only at the beginning,” you confessed and felt his fingers tighten around yours in a comforting manner. “I promise I’m not usually this boring.”

“I mean,” he chuckled, “you seemed rather bold at the library that day. I thought that confidence carried over into other situations.”

“Only occasionally.”

But he didn’t seem to mind. “That’s okay. I like a challenge anyway.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Yeah? Then how come you’re not a challenge yourself?”

“What do you mean?” His ears burned a shameful red again. 

“Any normal guy would’ve acted like nothing happened,” you told him. “But you started getting me snacks and making small talk in front of the lecture hall.”

The red of his ears got darker by the second. But he cleared his throat and shrugged almost bashfully. “Can you blame me? It’s not every day a pretty girl tells me to be her boyfriend.”

Your breath hitched. “You think I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest,” he confessed with a shy smile and your heart was completely spoken for.

You had one single duty to your friends: to always tell the truth. As much as it pained you, you had to tell them about Mingyu. 

Because, for one, Seungcheol wouldn’t stop asking about him. 

And, for two, because you had learnt there was no use lying to them because they each seemed to have a built-in lie detector. 

But coming to terms with your inability to lie to your three friends came with horrible consequences.

And by consequences, you meant Seungcheol and Joshua grilling you about your relationship with Mingyu as if you had committed a crime most vile, complete with Jeonghan viewing the interrogation from the sofa with a bowl of popcorn.

“It wasn’t a date,” you tried to defend yourself. “We just went to the café after the lecture.”

“Yeah, the café,” Joshua emphasised as you stared at him dumbly, “the place where couples go on first dates.”

“It wasn’t a date,” you repeated yourself with a sigh. “It was just coffee and a slice of cake.”

Seungcheol paced around on the rug, already wearing holes into his dark socks. He ran a hand through his hair before pointing at Jeonghan. “You; you’re planning a first date with your crush. Where do you take them?”

Your head immediately snapped to glare at Jeonghan, daring him to say as much as a word – you knew exactly where this was going. He responded with a mischievous smile and you turned to scream into a cushion before he could even open his mouth.

Fortunately, Jeonghan was a nice friend and patiently waited for your screaming to stop before answering in a clear voice, “To the campus café to get coffee and a slice of their favourite cake.”

You threw the cushion right at his head. He only laughed.

Seungcheol, as if unaware of Jeonghan’s very clear plot against you, gestured widely before glaring at you. “Do you see my point?”

“It was not a date–”  you began again, perhaps hoping that repeating the sentence enough times would make the guys magically believe you and forget the argument. But your speech was interrupted by the unmistakable ringtone off your phone. 

You checked your pockets but it wasn’t there. Instead, to your horror, you found that Joshua had it right there, in the palm of his hand. He eyed it suspiciously before looking up to smirk at you. “Loverboy doesn’t seem to think so though.”

Your heart sank and soared at the same time. 

Mingyu said it was a date? Fuck. Now you had lost your only argument. 

On the other hand… Mingyu thought it was a date? Aw.

That latter thought seemed to betray you to Seungcheol. His glare hardened. “(Y/n)!”

“Okay, so it was a date!” you burst before sighing and curling into yourself on the armchair. “Is it a crime to date? Is it that bad that I like someone?”

Your question was met with a softening gaze. Whether it was your words or something else about your behaviour, the three seemed to suddenly become guilty and remorseful. 

“No, it’s– You– I–” Seungcheol stuttered to find the words. His posture had suddenly sunk from big and intimidating to tiny and slumped. He exchanged worried glances with your other two friends before letting out a soft whine and stumbling over the carpet to hug you to his chest. “It’s not bad that you like someone. Of course you can date whoever you want.”

“Just not Mingyu?” you scoffed but made no move to leave his embrace. His stubborn personality and overprotective nature be damned, but he gave the best and warmest hugs you had ever experienced. You doubted anyone could give better hugs. 

He sighed. “I– Don’t make me feel bad about this. God, I can’t do this–”

“We just don't want you to get hurt,” Joshua took over, reaching over to pat your head. “Mingyu kind of has a reputation.”

“I don't think he does it on purpose though,” you mumbled.

“I don’t either,” Joshua hummed, “but the fact is that he leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes. He falls fast and hard but he loses interest just as quick. We don’t want you to be one of the broken girls he leaves behind.”

“Bet I can fix him,” you stubbornly joked and chuckled but you weren't fully convinced it was a joke anymore.

Joshua laughed. “I’m sure you can.”

“Can’t you guys just be a little more supportive?” you sighed, finally leaning out of Seungcheol’s embrace. “If he breaks my heart, so be it.”

“You don’t deserve your heart broken by a fratboy with commitment issues,” Joshua told you gently. “That’s the whole thing.”

You heard a scoff from over on the sofa. “She’s not in love with you, Shua.”

Joshua’s and Seungcheol’s heads snapped up immediately, one glaring at Jeonghan and the other at you.

“Me?!” 

“LOVE?! YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HIM???”

You vowed that if you went to jail this year, it would be for the death of Yoon Jeonghan. You hoped your glare over Seungcheol’s shoulder was enough to convey your intentions.

“Fine, you can go on a second date with Mingyu,” Seungcheol had told you, much like a father lecturing his rebellious teenage daughter, “but only if we come along.”

And so, you went on your second date to the fair with Kim Mingyu, accompanied by one menacing bodyguard and your two mostly normal friends. And what a date it was.

Holding onto him tight as he all but cried into your shoulder, you wondered how this poor coward had even gotten this far in life. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, patting his head as you exited the haunted maze attraction. “See, we’re out already! You’re fine.”

The date had been so nice so far. He had paid for the tickets (all of them, which seemed to get him in Jeonghan’s good graces) and bought you a themed headband to wear. He had won you a bear plushie from a no-doubt rigged stand, only smiling proudly as the attendant glared and handed him the prize. The butterflies in your chest couldn’t have been more fluttery and excited than they had been this entire evening. The perfect date, 10/10, you understood why so many girls fell for the Kim Mingyu.

But then you had discovered your boyfriend’s fatal flaw: despite his imposing size and the visible definition of his muscles, he was an absolute coward. 

Though he had put on a confident act while waiting in the queue, it took him no less than two minutes to start screaming in fear and using you as a shield from the scare actors.

As you tried your hardest to comfort him, wiping the tears of fear from his cheeks and rubbing gentle circles into his back, Jeonghan was cackling behind you like a maniac, finding great joy in your boyfriend’s distress. “Are you scared of clowns, Kim Mingyu? Clowns?” 

“I’m scared of a lot of things, but clowns aren‘t one of them!” Mingyu bravely shouted at him, eyes blood-shot and throat sore from all the screaming and squealing he had done these past fifteen minutes, before his words dawned on him. “I meant–”

With a judgemental nose scrunch, Joshua nudged your side and scoffed out a short laugh before whispering, “You sure know how to pick them, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you growled at him but paid him no more attention as Mingyu grabbed onto your arm with yet another screech of fear.

“Dude,” Seungcheol sighed deeply, defeated and tired of your fair adventure, “that was just a pigeon.”

“Birds are scary,” Mingyu retorted immediately.

“Not pigeons,” Jeonghan told him with an equally exhausted sigh. “They’re about as harmful as you are. No one ever, in the history of this planet got physically attacked by a pigeon.”

“Well, actually–” Joshua began but was promptly cut off by your elbow between his ribs.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” you asked Mingyu, squeezing his hand for comfort. “Maybe we could go eat? Or just walk around?”

He hesitated. “I was actually hoping we could– Nevermind. That’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fun. What were you thinking?”

“... The ferris wheel?” He side-eyed your friends for the briefest moment before adding in a whisper, “Just the two of us?”

Without a moment to think about it (because god knows you’d be caught by Seungcheol), you tugged on his hand and began running towards the queue for the ferris wheel, glancing behind you to make sure they hadn’t followed you.

“What was that?” Mingyu giggled as you came to a stop. 

“You said you wanted to come, just the two of us,” you told him with a shrug and an award-winning smile. “Keep a low profile and they won’t find us.”

“Why are they here with us anyway?” he wondered before quickly correcting himself, “Not that I think they’re bad or annoying or something– It’s just that–”

You laughed and glanced through the growing crowd at where your trio of friends were looking around nearly frantically, like a pack of guard dogs trying to figure out where the sound had come from. “They’re overprotective and think you’re bad news.”

“Me?” Lips pursing into a small pout, he seemed a little dejected at the thought. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you think I’m bad news? That I’m not good for you?”

The sadness in his beautiful brown eyes made you weak inside. You were ready to spill every truth and lie and everything in between just to make him happy again. But before you could, the staff member in charge of the wheel greeted you with a tired smile and asked for your tickets and, before you knew it, you were seated in the gondola.

You had read enough romance novels to know where this would lead.

Or so you thought, until the wheel was three metres off the ground and Mingyu was the palest you had ever seen him, eyes wide with fear as he looked at anything but the windows. 

“You good?” you asked him carefully, reaching your hand across the gondola to squeeze his knee. He didn’t answer. And then it dawned on you – the very same realization from just twenty minutes ago – your boyfriend was the dictionary definition of a coward. “... Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”

Shaking a little from the fear travelling through his veins, he took a sharp breath. “I won’t.”

“But are you?”

“Yes. Deathly.”

You wanted to laugh at the irony. “You were the one that suggested we come on the ferris wheel!”

“I didn’t think it would be this bad if you’re with me!” he practically whined, eyes squeezed shut, his hand searching for yours for comfort. “I just wanted this date to be romantic for you. What good date doesn’t end with a ferris wheel ride?!”

Why was your stupid cowardly boyfriend making your heart flutter again like this? Just a few simple words that he probably hadn’t even thought through and you were melting all over again.

“Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?” you offered. 

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. All you’ve done today is comfort me and tell me it’s fine but, really, you must think I’m a coward and an idiot.”

Well, he wasn’t completely wrong. But it’s not like you were ever going to tell him.

“Actually, can you just tell me when we’re going down again?” he added soon after, voice cracking. He paused. “Or, well, actually don’t do that because you must already think I’m pathetic and I don’t want to ruin this for you and–”

You weren’t sure why or how, but you found yourself pressing your lips to his. His rambling cut off with a noise of surprise and before long, he leaned closer to you, still squeezing your hand with his, and nearly melted into the kiss.

When you pulled away, nose still brushing against his, he let out a shaky breath that sounded just a little bit like a laugh. “What was that for?”

“I– You–” you stuttered, unable to believe your own actions. You leaned further away from him, clearing your throat as the gondola came to a stop at the bottom of the wheel, the staff fumbling with the door to let you out. “We’re back on the ground.”

“We are?” he breathed out and finally opened his (admittedly hazy) eyes. “Oh. I guess we are.”

As you stepped out of the gondola and began on your way back towards the front gate, he linked your arms, playing with your fingers. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You were almost crying,” you told him with a good-hearted laugh and a nudge. “Please do us both a favour and never take your date to a haunted maze or to the ferris wheel ever again.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” he laughed, sheepish.

“There you two are!” Jeonghan’s voice sounded from behind you. You turned to offer him a smile. He replied with a sarcastic one of his own before yelling as loud as he could (which, admittedly, was not very loud at all), “Cheol! Shua! I found the fools in love!”

As your trio of friends slowly gathered, you were still focused on Mingyu. The fairy lights had no right to make him look so beautiful. You were certain you would dream of him tonight. 

“The haunted maze aside,” you started, voice low as to not let your friends hear, “I enjoyed this date.”

He grinned brightly. “Me too. But I suppose everything’s just better with you.”

“Same time next week?” you half-joked. “I’ll do the planning this time though.”

“Only if you promise there won’t be any more haunted mazes,” he mumbled to cover up the fact that you had him wrapped around your fingers, wound so tight he could never think of letting go.

“It’s a date,” you laughed and kissed his cheek just as Seungcheol walked over to drag you away by your arm. “Hey!”

“It’s past your curfew,” he deadpanned while Jeonghan and Joshua snickered behind you. 

You scoffed. “I’m an adult?!”

“You snuck away with your boyfriend!” he accused, looking almost actually offended by your actions. “What adult does that? And with a frat boy of all things?”

“I think they’re cute,” Joshua argued with a kind smile, having always been the most hopeless romantic of the bunch. “He’s like a golden retriever in love.”

“Golden retriever?" Seungcheol scoffed. “He towers over all of us. He’s a great dane if anything.”

As if to prove your friends’ point, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed from the pavement. 

Always the most brave of the three, Jeonghan turned his head to take a look. He let out a disbelieving laugh. “(Y/n), your puppy’s coming with us.”

“My what?” you wondered, brows furrowing as you turned to see whatever it was he had noticed. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Mingyu running up to you with a bashful smile. 

“I–” he gasped out, struggling to breathe. 

Your friends and you were equally breathless, mostly from shock.

He took one more deep breath – all the while glaring at the starry sky as if to curse the gods for giving him such a poor lung capacity – and then turned to smile at you again, “What kind of a date would I be if I didn’t walk you to your front door?”

“One without a death wish,” you swore you heard Seungcheol mumble under his breath. But you weren’t too worried about him (he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted to), especially when you had a whole Kim Mingyu running to you.

“You don’t have to–” you started.

But he shook his head and smiled a little prouder before offering his arm. “Here, I’ll keep you safe.”

“What are we? Just random street rats?” Jeonghan wondered while looking awfully amused. “You think one of you can protect her better than three of us?”

While Mingyu looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, red ears and all, you came to his defence with a discerning stare directed at your three friends. You shrugged. “I certainly feel safer with him.”

With a pained groan and a hand to his chest as if to will his heart to stop hurting, Jeonghan grabbed Seungcheol by the arm. “C’mon, great dane, he’s clearly got it covered.”

Seungcheol blinked at him, baffled. “You’re not seriously thinking of– Jeonghan! We can’t just leave them!”

You gave your best friend a begging look. As much as you could never admit it to Seungcheol, you longed for more time with Mingyu. And if it was just the two of you? You were giddy at just the prospect of it.

“I’ll pay for your pizza,” Jeonghan offered begrudgingly, sending you one last warning glare before practically dragging Seungcheol away. Joshua – much to your joy – was happier to leave you with your new boyfriend, only giving you one last hug and a wave goodbye before following the others and joining in their banter.

You looked up to find Mingyu staring after them in utter surprise. “They actually left us alone? Willingly?”

“I guess so,” you feigned coyness. “So, you’re walking me home then?”

“Most happily,” he agreed before shrugging off his jacket and – to the detriment of your poor fluttering heart – draped it over your shoulders. “There, now you’ll be warm.”

“You didn’t have to–”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted with a sweet smile before offering you his arm again.

You swallowed the butterflies threatening to break out and linked your arm with his with a shy smile. And so, side by side, you walked to your home. The conversation was almost nonexistent as you simply enjoyed each other’s presence in the silence of the night. 

“Can I ask something?” Mingyu suddenly broke the blissful quiet air.

You hummed in agreement.

He took a deep calming breath before blurting, “Why me?”

“... What?”

“Why me?” he repeated himself a little more certainly. “Why would you choose me as your boyfriend? 

There was another moment of silence. How could one tell someone as loving and sweet as Mingyu that you were dating him only because of a stupid joke? A small bet that was never meant to go further than a sentence of a prank and five minutes of confusion? You feared you’d shatter his heart.

But still you had to come clean eventually. 

It was funny really, you thought, that a week or two ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated to answer at all. You would’ve laughed it off and told him it was just a silly joke and to not take it so seriously. You would’ve texted the group chat telling Jeonghan he owed you another Snickers bar for the humiliation of having to explain yourself to a fratboy.

And today your heart hurt at the idea of breaking his.

Mirroring his earlier preparations, you took a deep breath to ease your nerves and calm your heart before answering, “It was Jeonghan who picked you.”

“For you to date?” Mingyu wondered, brows furrowing in confusion. “That’s a little odd, I suppose, but–”

“No, it was– It was a bet. At first.” You didn’t dare to look at him as you spoke. (And if you had, you would’ve seen his facade of confidence crack just a little.) “We were just at the library and Jeonghan bet me a coke and a Snickers bar to tell you… what I told you that day. I wasn’t– You– We weren’t ever supposed to meet again. Well, maybe as a passing glance in the hallway or something, but not like this. It wasn’t meant to be serious.”

“Oh.” You didn’t need to look at him to know how dejected he must have felt.

“But!” you rushed to mend his heart, “But then I got to know you and you made me lunch and you smiled at me all pretty and you spoke to me even when I was being weird and mean– Look,” you stopped mid-step and grabbed his wrist to stop him as well, forcing him to face you before you spoke with as much conviction as you could muster up, “this whole thing might have started because Jeonghan offered me candy, but I swear on everything that I hold dear that… that I really like you. I’ve come to really like you so much, Mingyu. 

“I can’t imagine a day without you anymore. When you miss our lectures, I spend all day worrying something happened to you. When you don’t smile, I want to go and kick whoever made you sad or mad. I just really love you a lot – even if it wasn’t so at first. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, nodding slowly, his eyes glimmering a little. “I mean… I always guessed you didn’t say those things because you actually felt something for me and–” He paused, eyes clearing, brows furrowing, ears tinting red. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I– You– What? No,” you laughed and felt nervous all of a sudden. 

You couldn’t have!? 

… Could you?

His dejected puppy-eyes became cheerful half-moons as he grinned widely. “You did! You love me!”

You weren’t sure you had enough proof to argue, so you kept quiet and prayed he wouldn’t see right through you. You hadn’t meant to let those words slip so early. You hadn’t meant to even feel this way. But you couldn’t lie and argue.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Mingyu leaned closer to speak softly, “I’ve been thinking about how I love you too.” He let out a sheepish laugh. “Really, I was worried I’d be too forward and scare you away if I told you that already. I mean, it’s only our – what? – second date?”

“You really do fall hard and fast, huh?” you wondered out loud. 

He scoffed. “Who told you that?”

“My friends.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know that you’re the first I’ve felt this way about.

“Yeah?” You pursed your lips in thought. “If that’s true, then you should kiss me right now.”

Mingyu chuckled and shook his head. “I fear that might be a little too forward.”

“Really?” You quirked a brow. “And a  love confession on the second date isn’t?”

“You’re the one who started it! Besides,” he linked your arms and led you to keep walking towards your home, “I’m a little scared of your friends and I’m pretty sure the one with big muscles will kick my ass if I don’t take you on at least two more dates before I kiss you.”

You weren’t entirely sure he was joking.

“Fine,” you sighed, defeated in the game of love. “But those two dates better be great. I’m speaking five-star restaurant, dinner and a concert by the seaside, watching The Titanic in the moonlight kind of romantic.”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry, baby,” he assured you and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Baby. You had to physically hold back from smiling and blushing all giddy. 

[staybabblingbaby]

Best Friend Protocol #14 (Team Meeting part)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You're Felix's childhood friend, and you and he have been planning a visit to see him for his birthday for what feels like years now. Unfortunately, SKZ is a very busy group, and the week-long vacation you'd planned for doesn't seem possible.Until Felix decides to ask his bandmates a favor...

Word Count: 2672

Notes: IT'S FINALLY HERE! ALL HAIL THE LEGENDARY FIRST WRITTEN PART OF BFP! I meant to have this out over a week ago, but it's here now! I will be attempting to get a regular chapter out here shortly to fulfil my promised 4 november chapters. Wish me luck! Huge shout out to one of my beautiful beloved betas, @brbwritingfanfic for taking the time to make sense of this damn thing lmao. I appreciate you spotting all my errors, you a real one <3 For those familiar with my archive style and curious, this is A3D2 for this chapter. It was kicking my ASS. If enough folks are interested I don't mind releasing the other attempts, but BFP is a bit divorced from the usual archive proceedings, so I'll leave that up to y'all. I actually really loved how Felix's character came through here, and i'm pretty pleased with how the dialogue turned out. My poor fiance had to sit through like 5 separate rants about how i could not roll back the details enough and kept having to scrap dialogue so it sounded less like AI attempting classical literature.

Warnings: She/Her Reader. Sort of? Polyamory negotiations. More like, the possibility is tossed out there.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks

Additional Note: I'm always taking interaction requests. Just fyi

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

The meeting goes something like this;

They pile into the living room of his and Seungmin’s shiny new dorm without discussion. It makes Felix both nervous and grateful. They’ve always had these meetings wherever Chris happened to be, before. It feels like an unspoken declaration of allegiance. Like they’re letting Felix take the lead, here.

The pressure is kind of getting to him already, as they all settle in. He doesn’t even know how he feels about it all himself, making a decision doesn’t seem like something he should be in charge of right now.

Still, he’s grateful. They’re being so mindful of him in this, and he kind of wants to cry about it. He feels seen, and loved. A bit too seen, maybe, but as embarrassing as it is he’s still a bit gooey inside about it.

Felix drags a beanbag over to where Hyunjin has settled on the couch, plopping down to lean against the other man’s legs. A hand automatically goes to bury itself in his hair, like an anchor against Felix’s stormy thoughts.

The grounding warmth of one of his best friends soothes Felix as Chris calls the meeting to order.  

“So!” Their leader casts an inquiring gaze around the room, “Who wants to start? Where are we at right now?”

A few glances are cast Felix’s way, but he tips his head back against Hyunjin’s knees to avoid their eyes. Everyone must get the message, because no one prompts him.

Jisung is the one who eventually bites the bullet, and Felix sends a silent ‘thank you’ to his birthday buddy.

“Well, I’d like to clarify everyone’s, like, goal in this?” Jisung puts forward tentatively, “Because I’m at the point where it’s more of a ‘I’d like to get to know her’ thing than a ‘I want to date her’ thing.” he shrugs to himself, “I haven’t talked to her much yet, I just think she’s cool.”

“I’m a little bit smitten,” Changbin admits from across the room. He gives Felix an apologetic grimace, but all Felix can do is wave him off with a worried smile. 

“We talked for quite a while the other day and, I dunno... We clicked? I guess? I feel like we did, anyway. I kind of want to see where that could go if we let it.” 

Changbin sends an almost appealing look to Felix as he speaks, and honestly? Super awkward for Felix right now.

Because, see, Felix’s first instinct is to get super defensive and shut everything down. He doesn’t really want to be talking about this, and it scratches at something delicate and boyish in him that they’re having this discussion at all.

It’s embarrassing to know that the feelings he’s kept so close to his chest for so many years are out in the open. It feels a bit like a betrayal that this meeting is about the fact that most of his friends have feelings for the girl he’s had a crush on basically his whole life, instead of planning how to get him to stop being stupid about said crush.

It’s just... Uncomfortable. On so many levels. An ugly monster wants to tear out of Felix’s throat as he locks eyes with Changbin, but a light scratch at his scalp from Hyunjin stalls the beast.

Right. Felix reminds himself that these aren’t any old friends. These aren’t just some acquaintances he could burn bridges with, or strange men he had to protect his angel from.

No, these were his brothers, the people he’d shed blood, sweat, and tears with. The men he’d lived with, grown with, the guys who’d seen more of him than any other person in the world.

Felix finds it in himself to spare Changbin a strained smile. He means it to be reassuring, but he’s so tangled up in his thoughts right now that it’s the best he can offer. The older man seems grateful for it anyway.

He turns his gaze up to Hyunjin, the catalyst of all this, and Felix’s current rock in the storm. He tries to keep in mind how much he loves these people as he moves the conversation forward.

He has to hear them out, at least.

“Thoughts, Hyun?” Felix gently inquires. 

Hyunjin briefly presses his lips together, gathering his thoughts into words. 

“I’ve been pretty open in my flirtation from the start, I think.” he finally says, “So I guess I’m more surprised that anyone else is? Surprised, I mean.”

Felix has to hand him that one. For all that his ‘no flirting’ rule had been mostly a joke, it did mean that he’d expected them to flirt with her. 

He wonders what makes things different now? He’d been okay with the flirting when he’d thought everyone was just joking around, has anything really changed now that he knows it’s real?

Felix sits with that thought while Minho throws his two cents in.

“I don’t think surprised is the right word,” their second eldest ponders aloud, “I’m personally more... worried about how this might work out.” He draws the words out slowly, like he’s tasting the flavor of them before he speaks.

It’s off-putting to hear Minho speak so cautiously- he’s usually so blunt with his words. 

“I’m more worried about how this will affect us as a group,” Minho admits, “I mean, I like her, she’s fun, but I don’t want her if it’s going to cause issues among us.”

And the older man has a point. Anything that causes discord in a group like theirs is a disaster waiting to happen. Especially something like this, where a misstep could lead to long-term resentments and jealousies.

Felix feels pressured by the group’s regard for him all over again. One word from him, and he knows it all ends. The moment he says he can’t handle this is the moment that the rest back off. The emotions won’t fade, Felix knows, but they’d do it anyways.

Because they love him.

He loves them right back.

“I really like her,” Seungmin pipes in, face blank. His eyes cast toward the floor for a moment, before rising again to meet Felix’s. “I really like her,” He repeats, “I don’t know that I would be okay with letting go without trying.”

Felix pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods at the younger man. His head tips toward his lap while he thinks, brow furrowing as he loses himself to his tumultuous thoughts.

It helps to hear everyone’s feelings put so bluntly, Felix thinks. Having everyone’s stances laid out clearly like a map in his mind’s eye. 

Han, who’s not invested but interested anyways.

Changbin, who’s probably in deeper than he’d really like to be.

Hyunjin, who’d been open about his intentions from the start.

Minho, who the fact that he’s even considering her means more than Felix thinks the man realizes. And yet, he’d give her up at the first seed of discord among the group.

It’s kind of heartwarming, when Felix thinks about how much love their second eldest had shown them with those words. 

Finally, there’s Seungmin. A man whose compliments are hard earned, and whose feelings are closely guarded. A man who’d just handed Felix his heart on a silver platter, trust and love etched in every word, spoken and not.

Felix’s first instinct is still to shut them down. His clouded heart tells him to scoop up his angel and hide her away like a dragon with its hoard. To claim her as his and his alone, and feel slighted if anyone tried to contest that.

But that’s not fair. Not to his members and not to her. Not even to himself.

They’d shown him respect and care every step of the way, the least he could do is give them more than a knee-jerk reaction.

“Is it really all that complicated?” Jeongin ponders aloud.

Their maknae looks almost bored from his armchair, staring at them all. His furrowed brow gives away his worry, as does the way he allows Chris to pull him into the elder’s side with an arm around his shoulders.

“I mean, it’s up to her in the end, isn’t it?” their youngest continues, “she’s the only one that can really make a final call.”

“Could we handle that?” Felix finally speaks up. It’s a little scary having everyone’s attention snap to him like that, but this is the crux of the matter, he thinks.

“If she chooses one of us, could we handle that?” he elaborates.

A contemplative silence descends over the room. Felix kind of wishes he could peek into the member’s brains at this moment. He wants to know if they’re as worried as he is, if they’re worried about the same things he is. 

Because, quite honestly, the more he thinks about it the less he really minds if they flirt with his angel.

It’s taken him this long to untangle the ugly knot of emotions in his chest, and he still can’t see all of it for what it is, but the core of it all, he thinks, is fear.

He’s afraid that, at the end of it all, he’ll be left behind. That he’ll lose two of his very best friends, his favorite people in the world, to each other.

He doesn’t think he could handle that.

It’s an unjustified fear, Felix knows. His bonds with all of these people, the seven present in the room with him and one halfway across the world, are stronger than anything. Forged in fire and elastic with time, he’s sure there’s nothing that could ever truly break them.

That doesn’t stop anxiety from creeping up his spine.

Felix lets his eyes wander around the room, landing on each of his members in turn. It’s like something in him believes that they could guide him in this, just by looking at them, the way his gaze lands heavily on each of their forms.

Hyunjin’s hand drops from his head to knead at the base of his neck, and Felix feels himself soften. A little bit of the anxiety drains from him at the comforting touch, and with it gone he can see something new under the miasma of fear and uncertainty.

It’s bright, like hope, and a bit more exciting. A giddy little thought bubbles up with it-

“What if she chose more than one of us?” Han beats him to the punch. His eyes flick between them all anxiously, looking very much like the rodent he’s nicknamed for, and when he’s met with six confused stares and Felix’s suppressed grin, he starts to babble.

“I- I mean, we’ve all shared partners before. Like, sexually, at least. I just- I mean- We’re not strangers to sharing, is all I’m tryna say!” Han explains himself.

His shoulders rise up to cherry-red ears under the weight of their stares. Minho places a calming hand on his thigh, even as he pokes holes in the other man’s claim.

“We’ve never shared romantic partners though,” He points out, annoyingly reasonable, “That’s a completely different thing.” 

“I’d be willing to give it a shot,” Hyunjin shrugs when all eyes turn to him.

He was, admittedly, the last of them Felix had expected to back the idea. Hyunjin was the most romantic of them all, and the least likely to indulge one of them in sharing a partner or two.

“I love you guys, and I really like her,” Hyunjin states plainly, “I don’t see an issue with it.”

“So.. what? We try for, like, a.. polycule kinda thing if she wants?” Changbin questions. He scrunches up his face in concern at the concept, pointing out, “That feels a little unbalanced, doesn't it? Is it fair to hinge the whole thing on her?”

“It's going to hinge on her whether it's fair or not,” Jeongin interjects, “You all have crushes on her, not on eachother.”

“I just don’t know how comfortable I can be with that,” Changbin explains, “There’s one of her, and currently six of us. I don’t think it’s humanly possible for her to split her time enough for all of us, and it’s really unfair of us to expect it of her.”

“It could be a good thing, though,” Han argues, “None of us have the time to dedicate to a relationship how we should. Having more than one of us to turn to could be a good thing.”

“Okay, but you’re all forgetting something very important in this hypothetical,” Jeongin stresses the word, making pointed eye contact with his hyungs, “situation. She has to agree to it too. We can’t make a decision without her.”

Felix can't help but be proud of their youngest for reminding them of y/n’s place in all this. It’s not like they’d forgotten, but it was a good reminder anyway. It did feel a bit icky to be talking about their relationship with her like it was a foregone conclusion.

“I’m just saying!” Han proclaims, throwing his hands in the air, “It’s a possibility that we should be open to if it happens!”

Finally, Chris loudly claps to get everyone's attention and forestall any oncoming argument.

“Oh-kay!” he enthuses, “Let’s refocus. Show of hands, are we okay with everyone flirting with her if they want to?”

All hands go up, none of them opposed to anyone else shooting their shot. Felix pretends like all eyes aren’t on him as he easily raises his arm.

“Alright, next” Chris pushes on, “Do we think we can handle it if she chooses one of us?”

Hesitant murmurs sound around the room at this, but Felix has come to an understanding with himself during this meeting, so he speaks confidently when he says, “I think we’ll be okay.”

His words seem to reassure the others, and a ripple of agreement and gentle ribbing starts circling the room.

“Alright,” Chris nods to himself, interrupting the wave before they could get started with any mischief. He really does know them too well.

“And finally,” he starts, an indecipherable expression crossing his face, “show of hands, who’s alright with the poly thing if it comes to it?”

This subject is more divisive, Han, Hyujin, and Felix’s hands going up, but Minho and Changbin stay quiet with worried faces. Seungmin holds his arm out in front of him with his thumb held out sideways. When questioned, he just says he’s not sure how he feels about it yet.

“We’ll circle back on that later, then.” Chris decides, “I think that’s one of those things we need to be unanimous on.”

Agreements sound out, and the atmosphere relaxes. The evening quickly devolves into an impromptu game night, the group quickly descending upon Felix’s console games like a pack of hyenas.

Felix gets up to switch the TV over to his switch, intentions of strong-arming everyone into playing Mario Party in mind. Chris grabs him by the elbow as he walks by, nodding over to the kitchen. Felix follows him over, already unbearably fond. 

“You sure you're good?” Chris asks lowly, “You've been her friend the longest, and we quite literally thought you were dating her already for a while there. They'll back off if you ask, you know.” 

Felix nods, smiling softly at their leader’s care. “I'm good I promise.” he swears, “I meant it when I said I liked it when my favorite people get along.”

He turns to look through the doorway back at the living room. Despite the strange and personal nature of their conversation, jokes and laughter flow easily now. As if there was never any tension at all. 

Felix can feel himself practically melt as he looks at them, a sentiment he knows their leader shares.

“It would hurt,” Felix admits, “If she chose someone else. But there’s no one I’d trust to hurt me more, y’know?”

Chris doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t really need to. He squeezes Felix’s elbow gently as the younger dives back into the chaos, and Felix knows he’s been understood.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You walk along the halls of the garishly large house. You suppose anything compared to your apartment is huge. Former apartment? You mourn the loss of your previous life as it starts to sink in. No long distracted by the bristly mustache of its delightful effect on you, you can’t help but descend slowly into despair. 

You narrow your eyes at the fabric strained over shoulders blades in front of you. All he had to do was say please and be polite. He couldn’t even give you his order then blamed you for not knowing.

How on earth are you supposed to know who he is? It isn’t your fault no one told you. Now you’re starting to get mad at them too. Bre really put you in it, didn’t she?” 

“Are you growling?” Lloyd asks over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. 

“At me?” He snickers. 

“No... I should,” you grumble, “so, did you think about that sweater? Maybe a blanket? My nipples are so hard, they’re starting to hurt.” 

He stops and turns to face you. You walk straight into him and he grabs your shoulders, pushing you back to stand at arm’s length. He looks you up and down with a squint, his mustache slanting with his mouth. 

“I don’t negotiate but if I give you a blanket, do you promise to stay out of the way?” 

“Sir, if you opened the front door at this very moment, you would never see me again.” 

“Noted,” he says grimly, “go in here and stay.” He points to the door next to him as he releases you, turning the handle slowly, “don’t break anything. There should be a blanket, just don’t get too cozy.” 

“If I may, I think we would both be much happier if you let me go. Look at it this way, you got your rocks off, I got mine jangled, and now we both know a lot more about ourselves. You don’t have to ever see me again--” 

“Be quiet,” he reaches to pinch your lips shut, “Christ Almighty, you don’t shut the fuck up.” 

You try to talk past his fingers but just make a weird noise between your sealed lips. You shrug and raise your hands in surrender. He lets you go and sighs, waving through the open door. 

“Shutting fuck up,” you lift a hand in a salute and he quickly smacks it down. You shake your fingers out and hiss, “ow.” 

“Stop doing that,” he demands. 

“Fine,” you make a face and turn past him. At this point, you don’t care. This house is too cold and you don’t think he’ll take your advice about his central air bill. Looks like he can afford it, even if the ozone might suffer. “Erm, thanks?” 

“Whatever,” he grabs the door and shuts it behind you with a snap. 

You turn to it as you hear the lock click. His footsteps march off swiftly and you wiggle the handle. Drats. You could try a window but you’re hardly equipped for the descent. 

You face the room and look around. It’s nice. For New Jersey, which this isn’t. Amid the golden lamps, the velvet chaise, and the safari statues, a fluffy leopard print throw calls your name. You bound over to the clamshell chair and swipe it up, wrapping your shivering figure in the faux fur. At least you hope it’s not real. How would Floyd like it if someone skin his lip for, er, well... what could you even do with that? 

You sit and bask in the warmth. Oh, you almost feel human. If you didn’t smell of sweat and sex. What a pervert!  

It’s all so twisted the more you think of it. Worse is how much you enjoy it. Even if he’s a big dodo head, you have to admit, he knows what he’s doing. Well, compared to you, who doesn’t? You’ve seen it all but haven’t done so much. 

You peer around. It’s really tempting to play with that wooden tiger figurine or that metal orby thing with all the rings. You close your eyes and resist. How can he put you in this room and expect you not to go wild. Literally. It’s like being in a jungle. You gave him the benefit of the doubt about the mustache but this room alone assures you he’s living in some 70s exploitation fantasy. 

You curl up on your side in the chair and sigh. You close your eyes and think. This morning, everything was normal. Kind of. You almost long for the beginning of the spiral now that you’re spinning in it.

How long is he going to keep you here? And what happens after? Do you get your money back? Your apartment? Definitely, not your dignity. 

You don’t remember falling asleep but it’s a happy relief until consciousness breaks through like a nail through paper. You wake up with a lurch and nearly fall out of the chair, gaping up at the blue eyes boring down into you. You give Floyd with no F a sheepish smile. 

“Oh, hello, sir,” you sit up cautiously, “I’m happy to report I kept my hands to myself.” 

“You snore. Loud.” 

“Ah, well, I’ve had quite the day. I guess I really needed a nap--” 

“Get up,” he grabs you by the back of the neck and forces you to your feet. 

“Ow, eek,” you pull at his wrist, “did your meeting go okay?” 

“Why the fuck do you care?” He snarls. 

“I don’t, I was being polite,” you try to wriggle free, “judging by the attitude, it didn’t--” 

“What the fuck do you know about my business?” He snips. 

“As much as I wanna know. Nada,” you roll your eyes and manage to break free. “Ouch, bro.” 

“Bro?” He grimaces. 

“Dude, sir, whatever,” you huff and catch the blanket as it slips, “I’ve been nothing but nice, you know, but you’re starting to piss me off.” 

“I’m pissing you off?” He tilts his head and crosses his arms, “you--” 

“Got it. You can’t stand me but it didn’t stop you from diving into my southern hemisphere,” you sniff. 

The air roils with his agitation. You hug yourself defiantly as you cling to blanket and stare him in the face. He looks down at you, bringing a hand up to rub his chin. He sucks his teeth and reaches with his other hand to yank the blanket away. You cry out, hanging onto it as he lurches you.  

The blanket stretches between you in a tug-of-war. He nearly takes you of your feet as he gives it a hefty pull. You hold onto it, planting your feet but he easily keeps hold of his end. You use all your strength to add to the tension and as you see him go to yank again, you let go.

Lloyd staggers back as the blanket drops from his grasp. He flails and hits the chaise, crashing over it as he bounces off the cushion onto the other side. He groans as his feet remain atop the velvet. You inch over to look at him, his shoulders to the floor as his face strains. 

“You stupid little bitch,” he growls. 

“Sir,” you bite down on a smile as you stand over him, “why are you so mad? You won.” 

[writeyouin]

How would mtmte Miminus, Thunderclash and Swerve react to the liaison(who has a crush on the bots but the bots are oblivious but maybe like them back) dying their hair their color scheme?(kinda in the style of rainbow hair) Also, I adore you and sorry if I misread any of your rules! 💜 Stay safe!

MTMTE Bots X Reader Headcanons - Oblivious

A/N - I peeked at the vote results early by voting once myself. I have zero patience. So, since it's a mix of headcanons and fics, I'm gonna go through my inbox and do a few asks as headcanons and save the rest for fics. Oh, also I missed out Thunderclash, just 'cos I'm less familiar with him and I haven't read the comics in a while.

Warnings - None.

Rating - T

Minimus Ambus

You work with Minimus a lot, reporting to him on Megatron's behaviour.

He was used to your previous hair colour, red and blue with a few white streaks.

What a coincidence that you should dye it green, black, and blue just as he is becoming more comfortable going about his tasks without the Magnus armour.

"Do you like my new hairstyle?" You ask him, quietly hinting that it's him you really like.

"It's in line with regulation, so it's more than adequate."

Honestly, you didn't know there were hair regulations until Minimus said that. You should have guessed. He is meticulous after all.

You thought you were being direct, but you'll have to be more to the point if you want this boyyo to notice you.

"I thought it would be nice to match you."

You think you can hear Minimus' cooling fans click on.

"Yes, well," He clears his vocaliser. "I am proud to have been a positive influence on you."

He hastily finds an excuse to look away from you, staring pointedly at his beloved paperwork.

It's only when he sees you practising your handwriting to be more in line with his that he thinks he might be feeling something akin to love.

Nope, no, not love. Probably just a spark infection. He'll see Ratchet to make sure his systems are functioning optimally later.

Swerve

Swerve notices the change in your hair and clothes immediately. He always notices the things you do.

Oh wow... Do you even realise that you match his colour scheme now? Probably not. This was likely just a happy accident.

Oh, if Swerve could match you, he would.

He likes to imagine those happy couples on Earth with the same Christmas jumpers on, and you would send a card to everyone you knew. There would be a dog of course, and three children, all in the same outfits, and- did you say hi to him? Primus! He'd been so far off in his fantasy that he'd completely blanked you.

"Do you like dogs?" He asked point blank, forgetting himself momentarily. He's checking for accuracy. If not, he's going to change the fantasy pet to a cat.

"Sure," You grin. "Dogs are cute."

You've got up to the bar now.

"Your hair looks nice," He says after a minute, smiling softly. "I really love you- IT! THE HAIR! Not- Not you. I love your hair. It's nice that we match, 'cos like, orange is a good colour, which is why it's my paint job, so it's good to see you like it too, 'cos you match me- Wait, did that sound arrogant? It did, didn't it!"

Now he's spiralling. He's trying to wave off the embarrassment and he's knocked some energon on you.

"Shoot," You say, though you're not too upset, it's just a mild annoyance. "I don't have any other orange clothes. Guess we won't match any more."

You want to match him? Even when he was such a glitch. Swerve has hearts in his optics.

Okay, he's working up the nerve to ask you out. He's gonna do it. Just give him like a month to build up the courage.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Falling Slowly - Chapter 9

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: So I thought this may be the last chapter. It's not. Because I'm me.

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

Raiders. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken this long for someone to find us. But I thought, or assumed we’d be mostly ok, hidden as well as we are. Joel and Tommy are always extra careful whenever they have to venture out further than our property to scavenge, making sure they aren’t followed. But they’ve only seen people once and that was years ago.

Sarah and Jax move quickly into the hall closet where Joel and Tommy had made a secret hiding place behind a back panel. Tommy hands me a shotgun and squeezes my hand, trying to reassure me that it will all be ok. But I don’t see how it will be. 

The cabin is silent, but getting louder is the unmistakable sound of a truck, no, trucks. Joel and Tommy exchange a look, moving to stand by the front door but well hidden behind the shutters. Rose and I wait in the hallway, staring at each other as we listen as hard as we can. The trucks park and we can hear muffled voices getting out of them. Joel peeks through the slot on his side and whispers to Tommy, but I’m close enough to just hear it. 

“It’s Mr. Jones.”

Mr. Jones? The man who sold us this cabin? We should be ok then, right? I chance a glance around the wall and watch as Joel’s posture changes, his face hardening even though his back is to us. 

“He’s with the Raiders.”

Why is Mr. Jones with raiders? Was he captured? Why would he come here, to a cabin he’d sold us long before the outbreak? 

“What’s the move?” Tommy looks at his brother, waiting to see his reply. Joel stands another moment, watching the men get out of the truck outside. 

“Just follow my lead and stay quiet. If it goes south, take the kids and the girls and get out.”

“I won’t leave you-”

“Tommy.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but a firm warning, and by his silence, I know Tommy complied. 

Joel takes a deep breath and unlocks the door, carrying his shotgun loose in his hands, pointed down, but still ready to go if needed.

“Hey, Mr. Jones. It’s Joel. Joel Miller.” 

There’s silence for a moment before he replies. I have to strain to hear him properly. “Holy shit! Joel? It’s really you?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh! Wow, never would’ve guessed. Everyone make it out ok?”

Joel pauses for a moment, like he’s thinking how to best reply. “We survived the outbreak.”

A chuckle. “Well that’s amazing news!” There’s a slight lull in the conversation, a heavily weighted pause.

“Can I help you all with something?” Joel asks.

“Ah. Well see, I’d forgotten about this cabin, having sold it to you so long ago. Well, it feels like a long time ago. So much has happened…..anyway, I remembered we were setting it up to be off grid and I hoped you all had continued that, maybe have some supplies? I didn’t think you’d actually be here.”

“What supplies do you need?”

“All of them.”

There’s a more weighted pause before Joel replies. “Yeah, I can’t help you with that.”

“Well now, I think you can.”

This isn’t like Mr. Jones. Not the sweet man and his sweet wife who just loved the Miller brothers. Mrs. Jones especially adored Tommy, as she often told him he reminded her so much of a brother she had lost when she was younger. I can hear Tommy grip his gun harder and I glance at Rose, both of us locking eyes in the understanding that we may have to book it down the escape route rather quickly if things escalate. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. I would be happy to trade with you, but I can’t just-”

“You know, the only reason you’re still alive is because my wife loved you guys so much. Tommy especially. He reminded her so much of her brother Gabriel. She wouldn’t have wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

“Is she ok?”

Another pause. “She…didn’t make it past outbreak day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was a good woman.”

“She was. But, now you see my predicament. I don’t want to hurt you out of respect for my wife. And I’m assuming you have a lot of resources, considering I’m fairly positive your brother and your kids and wives are all hiding here too.”

“So what do you propose?”

“There’s no need for bloodshed here. There are many of us and a few of you. Still, I wouldn’t want to upset my wife.”

“Alright then. You and your men can just go and we’ll forget it happened.”

“Ah, well. I do have responsibilities to my men too. They also have families and needs…how about this: we leave you all here with your supplies, but you and Tommy have to come work for us. Only when we need you. We could use your construction expertise but also your, apparently steady trigger fingers.”

A long pause. “Can I have a moment?”

“Absolutely. We’ll be here, in good faith.”

“In good faith.”

Joel’s heavy boots tap against the floor as he moves back inside, gently closing the door almost shut behind him, his peripheral trained on the men he can see through the crack. Joel calls to use and Rose and I join our men in front of the door. 

“Well?” Joel asks, looking at all of us.

“How many men are there?” Rose asks. “I’m a pretty good shot.”

Joel shakes his head. “There’s at least 10. And they mentioned families so I think if they didn’t return, more would come.”

“We could just leave? Throw a few things in some backpacks and head out the tunnel with the kids?”

“And go where, Daisy?” Joel’s dark eyes meet mine. “There’s nowhere around for miles and these raiders are bound to go looking around. Not to mention the damn infected. We can’t give this place up.”

I know he’s right, but still. It had to be said.

“I don’t like this, Joel.” Rose takes his hand and squeezes it. “I don’t want you gone for God knows how long.” 

Joel lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I know. But we have to do this to take care of you. All of you. Tommy?” Joel looks at his brother, but I don’t have to look to know what his response will be. Tommy will do anything to protect Jax and I, no matter what.

“Yeah. We gotta protect ours.”

Joel nods at Tommy. “It’s settled.”

It was almost 2 weeks before they came back, just one vehicle, Joel and Tommy gathering up their backpacks, nerves visible in their features. Joel went around back to grab another tool bag and Rose and Sarah followed him. Jax was still asleep upstairs and Tommy had already said goodbye to his sleeping son. He slides his arm through the other strap and I adjust his flannel shirt, picking at it in an attempt to do something other than cry. 

“Hey.” Tommy lifts my chin with his finger and gently presses his lips to mine before pulling back to look at me. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

“Please be careful, Tommy. I love you so much, I can’t…I can’t lose you. Not again, I-”

“Hey, darlin’. I love you too. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pulls me to him and I nuzzle into his chest, inhaling his scent, letting it permeate my brain as it tries to memorize everything about him. But then Joel walks back inside, handing Tommy another tool bag before moving to the front door. 

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

Rose, Sarah, and I stand together in the doorway, watching Joel and Tommy get into the truck, not knowing when they’ll come back.

Or if.

The first few times they went, they helped the raiders build some additions to their compound, fortifying their defenses and just general maintenance and repair. I had asked Tommy if no one there knew how to do any of this, as it seemed pretty odd that in a compound of the size they discussed, that no one knew how to do something as simple as switch out a doorknob.

“Yeah, normally that would be odd. Except, they’re all rich people.”

I look up at him from where I had been snuggling against his chest. “What?”

He nods. “Yeah. Before the outbreak, all of these people had money. I’m talking loaded. Lots of them telling stories about it. So they’re not used to doing things for themselves.”

“So the rich people are raiders?”

He shrugs. “Guess maybe they couldn’t cope with doing without. So they just started taking.”

About 6 months in, the raiders come to collect Joel and Tommy, this time for an actual raid. They promised they’d be careful, looking out for people and clickers. But I don���t like it. It was bad enough them going to help the raiders build their home. But this?

They don’t return for nearly 2 weeks. 

Before, they were gone at most 4 days. Byt the end of the 2 weeks, Rose and I were ready to go charging the base and probably would have if it wasn’t for Sarah and Jax. 

They returned in the middle of the night, the kids fast asleep. Rose and I were still awake, having a hard time sleeping without them here. But the sound of a truck was unmistakeable in the quiet and we carefully headed downstairs, peeking out the slot in the shutters that Joel had looked out before, making sure it was really them. Joel and Tommy hopped out of the truck, slinging their bags over one shoulder without so much as a glance behind them. But my initial wave of relief at the sight of them quickly was replaced by concern as Tommy gets closer and I can see the hunch in his shoulders, his eyes on the ground. Something had happened. Something bad. Rose opens the door and Joel steps inside, Tommy following behind him as Rose closes the door. They drop their packs and kick off their boots, stowing them in the little baskets we had placed by the door.

“Tommy?” I reach for his hand but he snatches it back, not quite meeting my eye.

“I need to shower.”

I was stunned. He had been on some dirty construction sites, even building for the raiders, and not once has he never kissed me when he came home. Out the corner of my eye, I see a similar conversation happening between Joel and Rose, Joel following Tommy upstairs. 

“What the fuck happened?” Rose whispers to me, her eyes on the stairs where Joel had just been.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem good.”

I pop my head in the kid’s room, checking that they’re still asleep. I should stop calling it the kids room as Sarah is nearly 20 now. But they’re both so attached at the hip, I forget that she’s so much older than him. 

I close our door behind me, hearing the shower click off as I kick off my house shoes. I sit on the bed, quietly waiting for him. Tommy emerges from the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips, his hair wet and curly, sticking to his neck and forehead. He turns to the dresser and grabs a pair of boxers and puts them on, tossing the wet towel in the basket. He sits next to me on the bed, still not looking at me. It’s almost as if he’s..ashamed?

I cup my hand to his cheek and lift his face to mine and immediately have to choke back tears at the look of defeat in his eyes. “Hey. I love you.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I love you too.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give details. But fuck, Daisy, I…we had to do some shady shit and I don’t…But it’s to keep you safe so I will, but-”

“Hey, hey,. It’s ok. We can just leave. We have the truck and we have more time now so we can load it up and-”

He shakes his head. “Joel’s right though. They’ll come looking for us. Especially now.”

“What do you mean especially now?”

Tommy looks down, picking at his fingers. “We were good at our job. Joel more than me, but they liked how good of a shot I am.”

“Tommy. Look at me.” It takes him several moments but he does, his eyes watering. “I love you. I love you no matter what, ok?” He nods but like he doesn't believe me. I place my hands on either side of his face and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his. 

And to my surprise, he melts into me, one hand coming up to tangle in my hair, the other gripping my hip as he deepens the kiss. He turns his body, pressing me down into the bed as he lays on me, kissing down my neck, goosebumps erupting down my arms. I know this isn’t a healthy way to cope but it seems to be what he needs and honestly, I need him. I need to hold him, know he’s here with me, solidly here. He pushes his hips against mine, my back arching as he nips at my neck, his hips rocking faster and faster, chasing his high. His hands are everywhere, sliding over my skin, gripping me, touching me, his lips drawing paths across my body. My fingers tangle in his curls, my legs wrapping around him, urging him deeper, faster until finally lights erupt behind my eyes, my whole body tingling as I moan his name, hearing my own echoed back at me as his hips sputter against mine. He presses his forehead to mine and takes a few breaths before he pulls out, allowing me time to use the bathroom first. When he’s done, he slides into bed and pulls me to his chest, wrapping his large arms around me, my back pressed into his broad chest, his nose in my hair. 

“I’m here if you want to talk, but I’m also here if this is what you need. Whatever you want, I’m here, Tommy.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Every time they leave, I swear a part of them doesn't come back. Joel seems more aggressive. Not to us, but just...angrier. Tommy's shoulder's slump, his smile often not reaching his eyes, staring blankly out at the trees as he relives whatever horrors he's had to do.

It's when the last bit of life in his eyes snuffs out that I decide I need to do something.

I'd always told him he could talk to me and sometimes he did. I know he hasn't told me everything they've had to do, and I don't expect him to. I've asked him to leave before, but he always said Joel never would. That he couldn't leave his brother. But after 5 years, it finally took that last little bit of him I had left. I couldn't continue on like this. We couldn't continue on like this.

I come back into the cabin, washing my hands in the kitchen sink, before I head back outside, walking down through the trees to the dock, knowing I'd find Tommy sitting at the edge of it, glass of water clutched in his hand as he stares blankly out at the water, a million miles away.

"Hey, handsome." I sit next to him, gently placing my hand on his thigh and giving it a light squeeze. He blinks rapidly a few times, coming back to present before looking at me, smiling slightly.

"Hey, beautiful."

I place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb over the bit of stubble that had grown in the last few days. "Are you here with me?"

His dark eyes meet mine and he blinks. "I am."

"Come with me?"

He cocks his head slightly to the side as I stand up, offering my hand out to him. He takes it, the warmth from his large hand seeping into mine as I lead him off the deck and back into the woods, down a path he'd taken me years ago. Albeit I was blindfolded, but I'm not bothering with a blindfold this time.

It had taken me a few days to figure it out, setting up the tent and blankets just like he'd done for our anniversary not too long after...well, after. I thought for sure he'd know where we're going but if he does, he says nothing, his fingers still laced with mine as we walk around trees and over roots. When the clearing appears and he sees the tent, he stops walking. I look back at him and am met with a blank stare.

"Tommy?"

"What..what are we doing here?"

"I thought it might be nice to get away for at least a night."

His jaw clenches. "Shit, did I miss our anniversary?"

At least he remembered why we had been here before. "No. I just...come sit with me?" I take his one hand in both of mine, pulling him slightly towards the blanket I had spread out. He pauses for a moment but then acquiesces, kicking off his boots and stretching out his long legs on the blanket. I kick off my own boots and sit next to him, hesitating before taking his hand again, feeling him lace his fingers through mine.

"I love you, Tommy."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

I told myself I wouldn't cry, that I'd be strong. But when I looked at him, his eyes staring at mine, and I couldn't see that light, I lost it. Giant drops fell from my eyes, splashing against our entwined hands.

"Hey, hey Daisy. What's wrong?" He drops my hand to place it on my cheek, cradling my face with both hands.

"I..can't...can't..."

He pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me and I finally feel safe, secure, like he's fully here with me in this moment. It takes me a few minutes to calm down, but he's patient with me, always so patient, just holding me and letting me sort myself.

"We have to leave, Tommy."

He doesn't move, still for a long moment and so I sit up, drying my tears on the back of my hand.

"Daisy, we can't. I told you, Joel won't-"

"Every time you guys leave, a part of you doesn't come back. I know you're having to do terrible shit, more terrible than the crap you've told me about. And I've supported you as best I can, but Tommy, I feel like you're finally slipping away from me and I can't pull you to me, and I can't lose you, I just can't. Not again. I won't survive it."

"Oh darlin'. I'm right here."

I look up at him. "But that's just it. You're not. Even when you're here, you're not. This last trip. Something took the last bit of light from your eyes and I-" a sob ripples up from my throat and Tommy immediately pulls me to him again.

"You said you're protecting us. But who's going to protect us when you're gone, Tommy? Even if you're alive, you can still be gone. Please. We have to go."

A drop of water hits my cheek, but it's not my tears. I turn my head up and see tears freely flowing down Tommy's cheeks. This time it's my turn to hold him, press him to my chest as he cries. It's several long minutes before the sobs stop, the tears finally drying. My fingers are still tangled in his curls, gently patting him and lightly scratching his head. He sits up, wiping his eyes on his arm.

"I'm so sorry, Daisy. I thought I could handle it."

"Hey. You're so fucking strong. Most people would've cracked by now."

He smiles weakly. "I would have, if it weren't for Joel." His face falls. "He'll never leave, Daisy. He's convinced this is the safest option."

"Tommy, we can't continue on like this forever."

He nods. "You're right. I gotta take care of my family and that's what I'm gonna do."

"What if Joel won't come?"

"He won't. I'll make the offer to Rose and Sarah, but I'm sure they'll stay. But we'll still go."

"You sound like you have a plan?"

He's quiet again, his eyes going far away for several moments before looking back at me.

"Actually, I do. I've heard about this freedom fighting group called the Fireflies."

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[hn-undercover-9503]

going through my backlog documents again and I uncovered this, it's from a project I honestly don't know if I'll ever finish but I thought I'd share some of it anyway bc I liked the concept of this fic a lot

The atmosphere in the holding cell was a far cry from what it normally was.

On a normal day, he would get to laugh and tease the pretty sheriff until there was practically steam coming out of his ears and he was too flustered to even speak. But today, Tango could tell that wasn't the way to go.

"Yo, uh, Sheriff? You…wanna tell me what's going on in that big beautiful brain of yours?"

The sheriff looked upset, except not in the usual I'm pretending to be angry to try and intimidate the prisoners kind of way–no, he looked actually upset. He kept jumping from paper to paper and shelf to shelf, never really focusing on anything. After about an hour, which was usually the point at which Tango would have made the slip already, he finally decided he couldn't ignore it anymore.

Immediately, he was given a harsh glare, which was quickly followed by a loud groan and a sigh. The Sheriff dropped the pen he'd been pretending to work with and tossed his head over the back of his chair.

"It hasn't got anything to do with you."

Tango shrugged, leaning back with his grip on the bars keeping him upright. "Oh, I dunno, maybe I could help. Just thinkin'."

The Sheriff sighed again. And just when Tango was sure he wasn't going to respond, he mumbled, "It's my ex,"

Tango did a double-take. "Your…ex?"

"Yes,"

"As in, ex-partner? Ex-romantic partner? A person you used to be in a relationship with?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, my ex-brother–yes, my ex-romantic partner, or my ex-boyfriend I should say."

"You have an ex-boyfriend?" He exclaimed, genuinely surprised. How had he never heard of this before? And here he thought he knew everything about his favorite sheriff.

"It's a long story. But recently, I heard he started seeing someone else, and I'm…oh, forget it, this is stupid."

"No no no, s'not stupid!" Tango pushed aside the slight sting at the implication that his sheriff still had feelings for another guy, caring more about how he could make him feel better. "What's his name?"

"His name is Scott."

Tango's eyes widened. "Scott? As in Scott Smajor, the owner and proprietor of the underground black market?"

The Sheriff shot him a dirty look. "And how do you know about the black market, huh?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who dated him." He raised his hands in surrender. "Besides, he's got a reputation for being a bit of an ass."

"He's not–just because he doesn't take people's garbage doesn't make him rude." He groaned. "Oh great, I'm defending him now! I really am pathetic."

“Aw, you're not pathetic, Sheriff.” Tango leaned back against the bars. “I think it's cute.”

“Cute? You think being hung up on an ex who's clearly moved on already cute?”

“Well how do you know he's moved on?” Tango asked.

The Sheriff sighed again, slumping down in his chair. “I got a report that he was seen slipping around with some guy.”

“That doesn't mean anything–maybe it's a new customer he's got.”

“Slipping around corners to make out with his customers?”

Tango shrugged. “Well, I dunno what he's got going on! Maybe it's a special service or something.”

The Sheriff groaned. “Okay, gross. Why haven't you left already, anyway? We both know you could've been out of here hours ago.”

Tango put on his best pouty face, reaching through the bars to brush a finger over his sheriff's arm. “Aw, but I love our time together, Sheriff. Why would I wanna give that up?”

He glared, clearly not feeling up to their usual bantering. “I'm going to go get more coffee.” He said tiredly as he stood from his desk and made for the door.

Tango watched him go with a frown. When the door clicked shut, he reached into his back pocket and produced the key to the cell, unlocking it and scaling the wall to get to the window. It popped open just as easily as it always did. As he looked back at the office and holding cell, a cold, heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

He needed to do something.

[seancekitsch]

Wow, I can get sexual too: An Adrian Chase x reader fic- Chapter 2

series masterlist here

warnings: eventual smut, masturbation, twitter nude culture, the very slightest dub con but not really just saying this to be safe, mutual pining, idiots in love, perv!reader but also perv!adrian

Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into? 

You pick at your nails, looking at the chips in the clear coat as they shine under the street lamps you pass. Adrian chats excitedly, which you should have expected. 

“I mean, did you expect them to go that way?” he exclaims, taking his eyes off the road to eagerly await your answer. 

“I’m sorry, I spaced out,” you excuse yourself, “What didn't you expect?”

“The gang war angle for season four, duh! And the fact that we see a few generations of it. What do you think?” 

He pauses and you open your mouth to answer, only to have him interrupt your thoughts and keep talking. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Look, if you’re going to be distracted like this in the field I think maybe my favorite coworker should take a break. I mean, I could end up having to save your ass like a damsel in distress and then you might develop a silly crush on me or something. How crazy would that be? Think about that!” 

Yeah, crazy, you think, like I don't already think about that.

“I’m fine… just haven't been sleeping well lately,” you offer weakly, “I like that this is set in the fifties, it gives us another slice of history to dissect.”

“History?” he laughs heartily, “You nerd.”

But under the lamp lights you see him smile with nothing but genuine mirth as he turns into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

You let yourself laugh with him and you relax as much as you can until he pulls the car in park, his parkjob extremely hasty and sloppy but still within the lines. 

“How long do we have until the episode starts?” you ask.

“About seven minutes and forty five seconds, but I’m not actively counting.”

Sure, you think, clicking the seatbelt and pulling yourself upwards.

Its exactly now that you realize you should have changed into sweatpants instead of the shorts you were planning on wearing to bed. 

The second you try to stand and exit the Sebring you feel the shorts ride up, giving Adrian a full view of the backs of your thighs and maybe even a little bit of your ass. At least, maybe you should have put on some underwear.. Well shit, this really isn’t how you expected tonight to go. Well shit, this really isn’t how you expected tonight to go. The much too cool wind hits your bare legs when you fully get out onto the sidewalk in front of his building.

“After you,” he gestures to the staircase up to his door as you watch him cram his mask into his backpack. God, it’s really a wonder he hasn’t been caught. It didn’t take him long to crack and tell you his identity and you can’t imagine what his neighbors see.   Hell, he’s barely hiding it now and it's not even late at night.

You begin to ascend the stairs, knowing exactly the vantage point Adrian is getting as he starts up the steps behind you. You know exactly the up shorts image he's getting, exactly how much of an eyeful he can see of your thighs and ass, honestly maybe even more because your shorts are an extra comfy size bigger than your usual. Fuck, you could let the nerves take over. Or…. or you could make the most of this.

You slow down, not in any crazy noticeable way, just enough to give your hips a little extra sway and to keep Adrian there for a little longer. Perhaps this can be a little payback for how wound-up Adrian had you before this, how you were practically desperate over his tweet of thinking about a certain coworker. If it was truly about you and not that new hostess at Fennel Fields, you could tease him a little. You take your time up the stairs, flimsy and wooden to the third and top floor of the building, really focusing and feeling each step with your legs and making a point. If Adrian is getting impatient with your pace, he doesn't make any motion to correct it. He stays at his same pace behind you, a few steps behind patiently walking up behind you.

You deflate, almost, as the top of the stairs finally comes into view and your gait levels out with his. 

“Showtime?” you ask, a coy smile on your lips. The look on his face is… hard to read. He looks a little flustered, but at the same time excited; a light blush on his cheeks as his chest heaves. It's probably just the new episode of Fargo. Adrian lives and dies for this shit. Fargo is your favorite show too, but not in the way Adrian loves it. 

“No, its on FX,” he deadpans, but the smile lets you know he's in on the joke. Adrian fumbles with the keys for a moment before finally getting the right key in the lock and turning. He opens the door for you, gesturing for you to step over the threshold of his one-bedroom before him.

Holy shit, you've died and gone to horny heaven. Or horny hell. You can't decide.

You know that you knew the layout of Adrian’s apartment, but you find yourself completely blindsided when you catch your own reflection next to Adrian’s in the floor length mirror as soon as he holds open the door. You didnt expect that fucking mirror to be staring you in the face. 

You catch Adrian’s eyes in the mirror a few seconds after you step further into the room, his wide smile faltering at your expression. For someone who says he doesn't understand others emotions, hes a perceptive motherfucker. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Adrian asks again.

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“I mean, you're really pretty when you're zoned out like that but you look like you've seen a ghost, and not in a good way.”

You feel your face heat up at that comment and you're sure you look like a deer caught in the headlights. You shake off whatever that could possibly mean and move to the couch, grabbing a navy blue throw blanket from the arm rest and pulling it over yourself as you sit and wiggle out of your shoes before situating yourself on the cushion.. 

“I’m fine. Get over here and turn on the tv, I think we're running out of time.”

You reassure him for what you can only assume won't be your last time tonight, still feeling a bit too on edge and warm in his presence to be comfortable.

Adrian kicks his shoes off, boots barely unlaced as he lets them bounce against the wall next to the front door. His eyes trail from the floor where your foot peeks out from under 

“We have two minutes!” Adrian exclaims, plopping himself down on the cushion next to yours and clicking on the flatscreen. Sure enough, his television is already turned to the right channel, and you have to assume this is a routine for him. You can picture him coming home from patrols, watching Fargo, and then standing in front of that mirror and… shit. Tonight is going to be harder than you thought. 

Adrian shudders next to you as he settles in.

“You cold?” you ask, barely tearing your eyes away from the screen, afraid to lose your cool now that your mind if fully back to being fixated on the most recent video he posted. Hell, the ottoman right next to your foot is the one his leg was propped up on while he touched himself and you touched yourself in tandem to. Its even in the same spot it had to have been in that video, judging on the angle…

“My nipples are hard,” he admits, “Can I get some blanket? I can get my own from my room if thats not okay. Chris said I make women uncomfortable, but you’re my favorite teammate so I feel like-”

You interrupt him by throwing the extra length of the blanket over him and shifting over slightly so you can get equal shares of the fabric. 

“You don't make me uncomfortable, Adrian.”

At least, not more uncomfortable than you are right now, your shorts feeling dangerously short and your body feeling a little too hot despite wanting to hide under the blanket. He accepts your answer and settles in, hand accidentally brushing your bare thigh.

Fuck. 

You hope he doesn't pick up on the little gasp that escapes your lips, distracted by the episode finally starting. You settle into the noise, the Italian mob discussing the turf war as the nurse tries to hide her indiscretions.

“Are you looking for a vantage point? Is that why you keep looking at that mirror?” he asks during the first commercial break. You nod, making eye contact with him again through the mirror. You hadn't even realized your eyes had drifted over that way again.

“Yeah, been doing that a lot lately. I didn't bring anything,” you don't need to finish the sentence for Adrian to know you're not armed. 

Adrian just laughs.

“Don’t worry about it, Cowgirl,” he reassures you, “I’ve got you protected.”

You narrow your eyes at him in the light from the screen. 

“Cowgirl?” you echo. 

“Yeah, I figure that's the opposite of the mermaid emoji, and you and I are kind of opposites. Not that I am the mermaid, but it is my Emoji. But like, it totally works for us! That's my Emoji for you in my phone.”

That's a lot of information to take in. 

“So I’m the cowgirl?” You repeat again, for confirmation. 

“Well, maybe not the cowgirl, but definitely mine.”

Well shit, if you didn't already have a crush on him, that corny crap would have definitely sealed the deal for you. You settle back in, tearing your eyes away from him and forcing them away from the mirror to focus on the episode. With only two left in the season, things are getting really fucking good.

The rest of the episode goes by relatively easily, and you can settle in and focus, even leaning slightly against Adrian’s shoulder as you get tired by the end of it. It had been a long day, with your own patrols on Emilia’s orders having started at five in the morning. 

He offers to drive you home after your third yawn, which prompted his first one. You gladly accept, because honestly, you don't think you could handle crashing here on the couch. 

On the drive home, you recap the episode, talking about where you think the end of the season will go and your favorite parts.

“I don't know, I almost want the nurse to get away with it and run away with the Don,” you say wistfully, leaning on the center console towards him. Normally, you wouldn't be this bold, but you feel comfortable and too sleepy in this moment to care about how he might interpret these actions, now having been up for almost twenty hours straight. 

“But they're criminals!” Adrian argues, taking his eyes off the road to look at you incredulously. 

“Adrian, the show is about crime. Your favorite show is about crime.”

You roll your eyes at his outburst, so endeared to his strict code that most of the team found mental. Sure, maybe some of his methods were a bit extreme, but you get it to some degree. The laws that made sense had to be upheld, but the ones that were immoral could and should be broken. 

“Yeah, you're right,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

The rest of the ride goes all too quickly, and you feel cold as the car comes to a stop. 

“Text me when you're in your bed all safe okay?”

Goddammnit why did he have to phrase it like that?

“Yeah,” you nod, grabbing the door handle, “yeah, will do”

You wish him goodbye one more time, shooting a smile his way and then waving again when you've finally closed the car door, and make the walk up your sidewalk to the door of your condo. 

It takes you no time at all to get back inside and practically race up the stairs to collapse into your duvet. 

My Number: Doors locked. Thanks for tonight, episode was great. 

Adrian: Of course my little 🤠

My Number: Lol, Text when you’re home safe. Night 🧜‍♂️

If the little cowboy hat emoji was going to be yours, then you could assign the merman to him officially. Without thinking, you throw your phone on the pillow next to yours and drift off to sleep. 

You wake up to a text from Adrian around the time he got home,

Adrian: Home safe 🤠! Same time next week?

You feel slightly bad about falling asleep before you could get this text, but you shoot him a response that yes, definitely next week after his patrols would work. You see another notification after that, this one a twitter notification. Oh, holy shit.

@mattvtweets: Wanna be my little cowgirl? Ride me. 

You don't even bother looking at the close to fifteen replies, instead focusing on Adrian in the video.

From the vantage point of the camera, you can tell he’s sprawled out on the couch, one leg bent at the knee and propped up on the cushion, and the other hanging off the edge and on the ground. On closer look, his foot is actually dug into the blanket you were previously wrapped up in with him. 

Holy fuck, you think.

He’s furiously stroking his shaft, fist wrapped tightly around it as he works himself over. This video is so much different than the others, so much more desperate and hasty. Adrian doesn't care about framing or angles in this video. It looks so rushed. 

Even the very slight voice modulator Adrian uses feels sloppy in this video. You can hear his actual voice pushing through, hear his moans the way they were meant to be heard. God, it feels like this video is just for you. 

But how could it not be? Cowgirl? Did he not just call you his little cowgirl when you got in bed safe?

Fuck, maybe his other tweet was about you too. It had to be, no? Certain coworker, and now little cowgirl? Take that, new hostess at Fennel Fields, you bitch!

Okay, immediately you feel guilty for that thought, you're sure she's a nice girl, but it's not her that has his attention. 

You watch the video twice before even thinking about pulling down your shorts, wanting to be absolutely sure of what you were seeing and hearing. It's you he wants, it's you he's making this video about.

Working yourself up is easy, listening to him moan and groan as he fucks his fist in the same spot you were practically cuddling with him last night. Your fingers slide into yourself with ease, already worked up with all of the Adrian in your past 24 hours. He really doesn't understand how sexy he is, anonymous or not. Even without the twitter he has you worked up with his proximity and quirkiness. He knew exactly how to get you going, clothed or not. 

It's only moments of timing your fingers with his motions that you're on the edge, not quite finishing but not quite hanging on either. 

He swipes his thumb across the head of his cock in the video, and lets out a loud groan. Fuck, how is he so hot? You grind the heel of your palm into your clit and a shudder shoots up your spine, your back arching off of the bed.

Fuck this.

You close out the video, nevermind how hot it is, and start to compose a text one handed, your other hand drifting upwards until your wet fingers reach your clit and start moving.

Your number: Sounds good, mind if I pack an overnight bag so you don't have to drive late?

Risky, but a risk you're wiling to take. 

He texts back before you can even think about thrusting your fingers back into yourself. 

Adrian: Please do! Late driving could lead to a number of motor vehicle violations. Looking forward to our Fargo sleepover,  my little 🤠

You come almost instantly. Body tensing up as you ride your high and rumple your duvet even further than it already was.

And then the realization sets in that you have to see him in less than three hours.

Fuck.

[hyungseos-cafe]

Pairing: P1harmony Jiung x GN!Reader Ft. Theo and Keeho

Word count: 581

Summary: When things get rocky between Jiung and Y/n, Keeho urges him to write a letter explaining his feelings.

A/n: Hey so you remember that one letter Jiung wrote to Y/n that I was telling you about?? Lol well here it is! I was supposed to post it months ago, but I kept putting it off. I hope you enjoy!!

Order for: @sxfterhearts @p1ecesofate @issadumbass @stellxx @sunnydeized @halaboyz @chenleluvr @astro-doll-the-star @zynz0 @orangebl0ssoms - unable to tag

┊⋆ ˚✯✩. Songs to listen to while reading: Let Me In - Exo, It'll Be Ok - Yoandri, Fair-Weathered Friend - Bruno Major .✩✯⋆ ˚ ┊

Read this first! (The original fic this letter is intended for)

Daily click for Palestine | Learn more about Palestine

2024.08.25

Hi my love,

Keeho told me that you liked getting letters and I realized that throughout our relationship I haven’t really sat down to write you one and I’m sorry. I hope to change that, but it may be too late, isn't it? I don’t know but I love you so much. I don’t have an excuse for why I treated you so poorly and honestly I shouldn’t be making excuses. You deserve so much better and yet you chose to stay by my side. I could never thank you enough for being with me through thick and thin. Just your presence alone motivated me to continue my journey and work harder as a producer.

I wanted to say that I’m sorry for not being more present... which is ironic considering you’ve been there for me and yet I couldn’t return the gesture. Some boyfriend, right? Now that I’m thinking about it I should have done more for you. I should have put my work on pause  because let’s face it, it’s not like it would have hurt my career. The only reason I’m where I am today is because of you and the support you’ve given me.

That night should not have ended the way it did. I should have ran after to stop you from walking away. I should have fought more for our relationship. I don’t know why I just sat there, it was so stupid of me. You know Theo and Keeho nearly jumped me when I told them we had ended things. Theo called me an idiot and Keeho, well you know how he is. He said he’d throw out my music equipment if I didn’t do something. Babe, you don’t understand, he literally showed up at my studio everyday for a week to remind me.

All this to say that I love you so much. I miss our silly dates and the times you made me smile. Like that one time we both cried watching Up and when we both got lost in the middle of the night trying to find your apartment. I miss those times and I miss how you used to leave me meals in front of my studio with the sweetest notes (I keep them in a box under my bed) and how you always call me first when you have good news, not even Keeho. I miss when you’d fall asleep on my shoulder when we’d take the bus home from the studio and your little happy dances when you ate good food. God, I should probably stop, but I won’t. I don’t know how else to say this, but I am still so deeply in love with you.

When the time comes and if you give me another chance, I want to say how blessed I am to have you in my life. Who else am I going on my nature walks with? Who else enjoys hikes? Theo and Keeho said they’d rather be stuck doing my laundry rather than explore nature with me (maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the point). I love sending you pictures of my hikes, the sky or animals because they remind me of how beautiful you are. Your beauty truly surpasses nature and I am so lucky to have had you in my life.

Until then, please continue to take care of yourself and know that I am always here for you.

Sincerely,

Your one and only Choi Jiung 

[ginnyw-potter]

I really wish people would learn to tag appropriately on ao3. I was reading a fic that was tagged as harry/ginny and hinny with no other ship, and all was great until Ginny decided to cheat on Harry, got pregnant with someone else’s kid, tried to pass it off as his until it was born and clearly wasn’t his, destroyed him mentally to the point where she broke him and he became dark. After the cheating part I skimmed it to see if there was some type of plot twist, but nope. Even though I disagree with the characterization of my two favourite characters I don’t care if people want to write this as long as they include it in the tag. It seemed more like a hinny bashing fic since there was only two chapters of hinny and the rest was of Ginny cheating on Harry and treating him like shit. Don’t even get me started on how they did the Wesley’s dirty. Pretty sure the writer hates Ginny and the whole Weasley clan, not sure why they did my girl and my favourite family so dirty.

Honestly, personally, I rely on recommendations from other people for fics nearly all the time because of this. It does make I will not discover the hidden gems or see things from people on tumblr or discord. I don't read that much fanfic so I'm not scouring the internet for new fics, I have a long TBR list instead.

I have always found the tags on AO3 to be confusing, mainly because there is so much flexibility in how you tag things to accomodate.

This is great! But it also has his negative sides, especially for people who are not familiar with the system. People who are used to tag for an algorythmic system are going to massively overtag, even though it will give no benefit on AO3

If I see half a page of tags, I am going to click away. People who write what should be an author's note in the tags, I'm going to scroll past.

Honestly I think most people tag from a good place, they just want their fanfic to be read. They don't know how and they may not have tried to find out how it worked.

I recently read up about parent tags, which means if I categorise something, that it'll also show up for the parent tag it's linked to, meaning that you don't have to tag the parent tag as well, because it's already included (the same counts for synonymous tags)

It's difficult to tell people they're tagging things wrong if you haven't talked to them before, it won't end well.

Maybe there needs to be more really easy to understand info on tags (I'm sure there are guides out there) because people's reading comprehension is shit even on the many words website

As for the fic you saw, that seems like they intentionally tagged it to piss people off? I would block them and move on because otherwise they would have warned people about the cheating in the tags.

Why people hate the Weasleys so much? Ginny? I don't know. I think for most people they're not 'exciting' enough? Even though all the individual kids have like a great back story that gets used in the story. but I think because of them wanting to like other characters, it is easy to pull down the Weasleys so you can dismiss them.

Not to mention some people haven't read the books and that leaves a lot open for interpretation

[shads-shipposts]

Hi again! This story is gonna have a pretty fast upload schedule, with new chapters coming out every Wednesday and Saturday. At least for chapters 1-20. I'll be taking a break after that until I finish "Act II". Act I is mostly complete (1-14) already. It takes us until like chapter 18 to finally get on the damn ship, but there is plenty of chaos and sailor interactions in the meantime! 

As always, if you liked the chapter please give it a vote!  And be sure to leave a comment, I always enjoy reading them ^^

Fun fact! 2025 starts on a Wednesday just like 2020 did, hence the coincidence of this story "starting" Wednesday at midnight. And my very first try at a Tintin fic in 2014 started Jan 1st on a Wednesday as well. 

Poetry.

Previous Chapter/Beginning: Here Next Chapter: Jan 4th Ao3 Version: Here

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why the hell was there an old car horn outside?

Someone probably drunk after New Year's Eve.

Or maybe it's my alarm?

No, I never used the Car Horn sound byte.

It sounded... a lot busier than usual outside too. Especially considering I was near the back of my neighborhood.

Where was everyone in such a rush to get to?

Sure, it was Wednesday, but still!

Burrowing deeper under the covers, I frowned. My bed was... roomier than usual, and I couldn't find the back rail of the daybed behind me. I rolled over, eyes still shut as I reached out with my legs to find it.

Still nothing.

That, honestly, should have been my first clue. The first harbinger of the chaos that was to come. But I was groggy and honestly a bit grouchy from staying up so late.

And for what? It was rainy and cold, no one was shooting fireworks anyway.

Cracking open an eye, I should have been greeted with the wooden rails of the daybed. Not... a colorful bedroom bathed in the weak, early-morning sun streaming through the open curtains nearby. Knickknacks littered the room, with nautical posters of various ships plastered all over the striped wallpaper with little anchor designs.

I slowly sat up, scanning the room.

It was utterly foreign, unlike any bedroom I'd slept in before, and yet... familiar? Or at least, the overall look of everything was. It certainly wasn't realism, as the colors of everything were just a bit too vivid, but it was very close. The aesthetics were distinctly vintage, which wasn't exactly something I partook in, but I still couldn't shake the feeling I'd seen this style somewhere recently.

But where?

That should have been my second clue I was about to be a victim of ye old HorrorsTM that came with fanfictions, but it still didn't sink in.

I honestly thought I had just... ya know. Lost my marbles. Maybe college had finally pushed me to the breaking point.

When I say I contemplated dropping out last Fall... damn those fruit flies and their entire lab-grown lineage to hell.

But a bit of a mental breakdown was far more logical than the self-insert reality-hopping tomfuckery I'd been burdened with, so I couldn't be blamed for my denial.

Apparently, the universe had enough of my confusion and decided to give me a very obvious indicator of where exactly I'd woken up.

A radio sparked to life, old-timey jazz tunes drawing my attention to a large framed newspaper clipping hanging across the room from the foot of my bed. Despite my lack of glasses, my vision was perfectly clear, giving me a crisp look at the clock next to the radio, reading 9:30 am.

It also gave me a high-definition look at the article headline and the picture beneath it.

Corruption Uncovered: Inside a City Council's Shady Dealings.

There, clear as day beneath the bold font, stood myself and none other than Wonder Boy himself...

Tintin.

The final piece of the puzzle, everything else clicking into place after that.

The aesthetic, the nautical charts, the old car horn, the 40s jazz, the newspaper.

I had found myself in none other than the Tintin movie.

"Mornin'!"

I yelped and flipped out of the bed as a voice sounded right by my ear. Jumping into a right fighting stance, guard up, I found myself staring at a familiar face.

Not a sailor, or a reporter, or even a Tintin character at all.

Instead, I was looking at one of my characters.

Tan skin, shoulder-length black hair that fluffed in every direction, mischievous green eyes, and a body built like a brick shithouse.

"T-... Trevor!?" I sputtered, blinking rapidly as if he were merely an illusion and a few resets would make him disappear.

How was he here? Yeah, sure, he originally started showing up in a Tintin fic snippet I had from like 2017 or 2018, so him in Tintin wasn't too outlandish... but why was he in my room?

Or whomever's room this was.

He flopped on my bed, rolling onto his back and grinning up at me.

Hell, those teeth are sharp.

"The creator recognizes me! Guess that time hanging on the ceiling was worth it!"

Is that where you were? I thought, looking up at the rafters. How the hell did I not see you, these ceilings ain't vaulted.

Trevor flipped back onto his stomach, pointing a finger gun at me. "Ya know, still waitin' on you to draw me."

"Wait-"

"I mean, come on!" Trevor sat up and gestured to himself. "You only just recently settled on a design! I've just been a vague consciousness that plagued your stories with no set corporeal form. Do you know how hard it is to flirt with people like that?"

I shook my head, waving my hands in a weak attempt to get him to stop talking so I could get a word in. "Hold it! What kind of whack-ass dream am I havin' that you're in?" I exclaimed. "You've never shown up in my dreams!"

Yeah, college really has driven me past the brink of insanity. I'm really out here arguing with a figment of my imagination asking why he showed up.

Ain't the weirdest dream we've had.

True that, but still!

Trevor's grin, somehow, got wider. "Dream? My dearest creator, this isn't a dream!" He frowned, scratching behind his ear like a dog. "Though, suppose it is in a way. Dream come true for your hyperfixated self, gettin' to roam the Tintin movie from 2011! Ya know, the reason you're writin' thanks to that 2014 RP?"

I grimaced. "Ugh, please don't remind me of that old role-play nightmare."

"Hey, it was a start!"

"A cringey start at that," I muttered, then shook my head violently to erase it from my brain like an Etch-A-Sketch. "Hey, stop changin' the subject!"

"What subject?" Trevor asked, an innocent smile on his face.

"The subject of what the hell you're doing here, in my dream. I know you're self-aware, you little shit."

"That I am! Well, since you're so persistent."

Somehow managing a backflip off the bed, he then raised his arms above his head like a successful gymnast.

"Try hard," I snorted.

"Ah, but who designed me so?"

"Yourself," I shot back. "I never even created your dramatic ass, you just started showin' up. Like the personification of the plot or somethin'."

"Ah, but you can't say I ain't useful!"

"Broken clock is right twice a day."

"I could boot you back to the 'waking'." He used air quotes around the word. "World if you'd prefer!" His teeth flashed in a devious grin. "I'm sure the Spring semester would love to welcome you in."

Nausea rose up my throat and I felt the beginnings of a tension migraine behind my eyes.

"Ugh hard pass."

"So stay awhile!" Trevor suggested, spreading his arms wide. "Besides, what do you have to lose?" He winked at me. "Like you said, it's just a dream."

Boy, I do not like the way you said that.

But, he had a point. Or, I guess my subconscious did. This wouldn't be the first time I lucid dreamed, or was self-aware in a dream. And what else could it be other than a dream?

People didn't jump between universes. That just wasn't a thing.

A dream.

That was it.

Just... just a dream.

Given that it was just a dream, it wouldn't hurt to go rambling. It was odd the scene hadn't shifted yet, since my dreams were usually pretty chaotic, but maybe this was the time for a scene shift.

May as well make the best of it before I wake up on Winter Break again. Happy New Year to me.

"Alright, fine," I groaned. "I'll bite."

"You sure do!" Trevor looked at his watch-less wrist. "Welp, gotta get goin'! Things to do, places to be."

Really?!

Since when did dreams have any sort of timetable to keep?

This wasn't the Polar Express!

"Hold it!" I barked, following him as he started for the door. "Can't I get at least a little explanation?"

"Nope!" Trevor turned to face me, grinning ear to ear. "This is not a well-thought-out and carefully crafted type of fanfic, no no! This is a wild ride of a fic where we just take the cards we're dealt, and we run with them!" He shrugged. "All there is to it!"

"But-"

"Besides! Explaining things only slows the chaos down, after all, no one has time nor patience for exposition dumps. That's not why they're here! They're here for nonsense to fuel their escapism and yearning for a found-family that would kill for them!"

"Who the fuck is they?" I exclaimed, gesturing at the empty apartment. "We're alone."

"Are we?"

"Hey, don't pull a Polar Express train hobo," I said, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Can't I get a little info?"

"It's a dream, right? They don't do info dumps, they go straight into the crack!" He held his hand up. "But if you insist."

The moment he snapped his fingers, a wave of images and information slammed into my brain and knocked me off my feet.

Dark alleyways, crowded marketplaces, peaceful courtyards, musty attics, cluttered apartments.

Quick glimpses really, like the faded, hazy memories of dreams. Enough of a visage to distinguish where I was, to feel a sense of familiarity, but not really anything more.

Blurry snapshot rather than a true picture.

Sounds muted and unclear, like hearing things from underwater. Just past the point of deciphering. Voices, lots of those. Gunshots? Yes, those too.

One particular scene came into focus.

A library, or perhaps a city records office basement, its aisles dark and shelves overturned. Books everywhere, some intact, some not. Papers, torn and stained, littering the ground. Adrenaline pulsing through my veins, something heavy scalding my hand.

A pistol, recently and frequently fired.

Echoes of gunfire, accompanied by yelling. Angry, threatening yelling, the roughness and pitch unmistakably masculine.

Yet there was another above the din, a lighter tone that had yet to really mature into the lower base of a grown adult.

A glance to the side revealed a familiar freckled face and ginger quiff, its owner hunkered down behind an overturned table with me. A flash of white fur near his leg, adding his barks to the cacophony.

Was Tintin shorter than me? No, yes... maybe?

It was always so hard to tell when crouched, as I was all leg and hardly any torso at all.

Height didn't matter here, but numbers did.

And we were losing.

Tintin grabbed my hand, yanking me towards a fallen shelf as he fired over his shoulder and forced the attackers to take cover.

Were they the sailors? Another faction? Simple thugs? Some corrupt government goons?

I didn't know, and would apparently never know as the scene vanished like a mirage on an old dirt road during a summer heatwave.

In its place came the headache of the century.

"Hellfire," I groaned, gripping my head. "I know they say to avoid infodumps in stories, but this is a-whole-nother bitch. What the fuck, Trevor?"

I received no answer.

I slowly sat up, cursing as the room spun. "Trevor?"

No one, just me in the room.

And a clock that now read 10 am.

One of the windows to the fire escape was open, however, and with great difficulty, I got to my feet to see if he'd escaped that way.

You better be gone gone, 'cause boy if I get my hands on you you're donezo.

I staggered to the back window, leaning heavily on the windowsill as the low drone of a ship's horn echoed off the alley walls. A quick scan of the lower street revealed no Trevor, and as I blinked away the spots from my vision, I also saw no sign of him along the rooftops.

"Trickster bastard," I grumbled, rubbing my temple.

Another low drone from a ship caught my attention, and I looked towards the source. Just over the tops of some of the buildings, I could see the crane arms moving back and forth.

Go.

You know you want to.

My eyes moved to the nightstand, where a sketchbook sat by none other than my phone.

What do you have to lose?

I walked over slowly, a hand out in case I lost my balance and feel, and stood over the nightstand staring down at both.

It's a dream, right?

Yes. Yes, it was just a dream. It couldn't be anything else.

That meant the phone was out, as cameras never worked in dreams. The sketchbook, however...

While I couldn't keep the sketch, I could remember the movement of my hand as I drew.

My phone chirped, which was quite odd given I'd had that sucker on silent since 2015. The screen brightened, and as I picked it up, I found myself looking at the lockscreen and the characters on it.

My persona Scarlett Bloodsmoke, who first found her origins in the Tintin RP fanfiction all the way back in 2014. Six years ago to the date. She knelt on white sands next to blue-green waters that sparkled with starlight and nebulas, embracing two dear friends; Thatcher Morgan and Skipper Anders.

Characters who once, in a different universe, went by different names.

Allan Thompson and Tom.

My eyes drifted to the text alert banner, and my nose wrinkled in a scowl as I read Trevor's name at the top.

The contents of his text only deepened my frown.

"May as well get reference sketches for the Caroline even though you sink her!"

Of all the character deaths I concocted, the wreck of the Caroline and all the men who went down with her was probably the one that hit me the hardest. It'd been two years since I drafted the scene, and two years since I'd last read it because it was so painful.

It was also the reason I had my phone thrown at me by two of my friends.

Warranted, honestly.

Thatcher and Skipper had perished in the wreck, something that would haunt both Scarlett and me.

And got me yelled at by my therapist, but it was honestly very deserved.

I looked again out towards the distant cranes as, yet again, a ship's horn echoed off the brick walls like a siren's call.

This was a dream. It had to be. So any pictures or sketches would remain in my consciousness only as I couldn't pull them into the real world. But even so...

Dreams had given me very handy inspiration before.

At the very least, I could update the Caroline's design.

She had her roots in the Karaboudjan anyways, just like Thatcher had his roots in Allan and Skipper had his in Tom.

I scooped the sketchbook up, ready to find some sort of bag to put it in and hope it wouldn't be lost to the void like in some dreams. I'd just... have to concentrate really hard and tap into the lucid side of dreaming to get it back.

If I could even get to the docks before my dream took a right from the left lane as it usually did.

A look in the closet revealed a small black backpack with some golden trim; perfect for a sketchbook and a few pencils.

Once I had tossed them in, I rummaged through the closet. No need to tempt the dream with reasons to turn sour, and wearing something anachronistic would do just that. Luckily, dream-me had a lovely wardrobe of non-decrepit workpants and grey T-Shirts that were luckily opaque enough to hide the black sports bra underneath.

A short run to the bathroom later, where I avoided the mirror behind the open medicine cabinet lest it kick me out of the dream before I could get my research, I took a deep breath and stood before the door.

Please don't wake me up, please don't wake me up.

"Right," I breathed. "Here goes nothing."

Cracking open the door, I found myself at the top of a very familiar staircase leading down to a checkered tile foyer.

No fucking way... I live across from Wonder Boy?

No, that can't be right. How'd I see the shipyard cranes...?

To hell with it.

It's a dream, these things are the norm.

I eagerly headed down the steps, thanking my lucky stars when the door to Tintin's apartment didn't open behind me. Either he wasn't awake yet, or he was already at the market. If I'd even awoken on the first day.

Or maybe he didn't exist, his T-posing character rigging lost beneath the dream map.

The sun warmed my face as I slipped outside, which was a welcome change from the icebox that currently was South Carolina in December.

I scanned the architecture as I headed for the docks, the dream thankfully giving me a built-in homing beacon so I knew which way to go. Even if I favored natural scenes both in writing and in art, I could still appreciate the vibrant colors and colorful façades.

The smells were... surprisingly vivid too for a dream. The blossoming flowers on trees and shrubs thankfully negated some of the 1940s car exhaust, as did the heavenly scent of bread from some nearby bakery.

Definitely smelled better than some of the cities in America, which reeked of diesel fumes, cigarettes, old liquor, and the occasional piss. I avoided them whenever I could, but with my junior year of college looming in the fall, I'd have to bite the bullet and deal with that.

No. No college thoughts in my dream. Sailors only.

It didn't take too long to reach the docks. Once there, I slipped between two warehouses and came out where none other than the Karaboudjan sat moored. Aside from the name stenciled on the bow, I could also recognize her by the faded paint on the superstructure and the rusty hull.

A few men worked near her, moving crates here and there or fiddling with rope. Most sat around on crates talking, though, giving credibility to the movie set designers' claims about the crew being rather lazy under Allan. Doing just the bare minimum to keep the ship functional.

Good grief, Tintin wasn't kidding when he called this a-

"You lost or somethin'?"

I turned quickly, automatically shifting into a cat stance with my leg ready to kick, and locked eyes with a tan-skinned blond man in coveralls and a brown work shirt.

The man quickly took a step back, raising his hands. "Woah! Easy there, son," he said, blue eyes wide.

While a quick up-and-down glance revealed no knife or gun, I only partially lowered my leg in case he lunged for me. "No, not lost. Just... lookin' for a ship to sketch."

He lowered his hands. "A ship, huh?"

You seem... vaguely friendly. Or not hostile at least.

Hopefully, that meant this dream would stay pleasant for a little longer. The linear manner of things surprised me somewhat, as usually it would shift by now and I'd have some new objective, but I wasn't about to complain or question it.

I really should have questioned it.

"Always been fascinated with 'em," I said, making sure no other man was about to jump me. "Is there a spot I'll be out of the way? Ain't lookin' to cause trouble, I just wanna sketch a ship."

Dream or not, I ain't getting in the way. Just let me observe from the shadows.

"You don't sound local," the man asked. "Where are you from?"

What's it to ya?

"The states. Down south."

"Ah. Thought you were a Yank."

My nose wrinkled. "No, Yankees are from above the Mason-Dixon Line."

The man chuckled. "Apologies, then." He gestured towards a stack of crates piled up against the wall in the sun near the edge of the berth where the Karaboudjan sat docked. "Those aren't due to be loaded into tomorrow."

"Thanks! Er, what's your name?"

I always need names for side characters.

"Johnny."

Well, that's not helpful, I already have a soldier!John. Don't need a sailor!John too.

Though, it is funny. Me adding a sailor named Johnny to the Karaboudjan crew in my old fanfics and my dream having one too. Be even funnier if my subconscious plopped me in one of the old fic timelines. Preferably the 2015 version because the original RP timeline is a big fact Y I K E S.

Though... there was the issue of the 2015 remaster never being finished.

"Thanks, Johnny."

He held out a hand to shake. "Happy to help...?"

I accepted the handshake. "Er, Shadow."

It was my online name on most sites, and all my online friends knew me by it anyway.

May as well use it here.

Johnny nodded to me. "Well, Shadow," he said, releasing my hand. "Nice handshake, and best of luck sketchin'."

Dipping my head in thanks, I headed for the pile of crates the long way around to stay out of the main activity hub.

Hopefully, I can stay in this dream long enough to get some good inspiration. Annoying Tom or Allan is preferred, but beggars can't be choosers I guess.

I quickly hopped up to the top, sat down, pulled out my supplies, and got to work. 

[maiverie]

HI DO U HAVE ANY TIPS ON STARTING A TUMBLR BLOG? like how you format your links and everything i'm new and want to start a blog but don't know how 😭😭

hi anon!!! omg sure yes I dooo!!! when I started I didn't have anyone to help me so it was literally such a shitshow lmfao so I HOPE THIS HELPS!!

— (long post below)

disclaimer: this is all based on my experience and im sure there are other users with better tips than me so DONT TAKE MY WORD FOR GOSPEL BAHAHA

(also I'm going to assume you reached out to me because you want to start a kpop writing blog and not smth else, so all these tips are obv specific to writing blogs. I also don't know how experienced u are w Tumblr so I might say some obvious things,, sorry if you already know most of these things!!)

anyway tumblr is actually really intuitive and after about two days I honestly think you'll get it (probably even within a day tbh). here are some quick steps I feel like make sense in my mind:

find a url (if you're starting a kpop writing blog,, most people seem to include the name/a reference to their bias but in my case i kinda just went w my name and played around w it until I liked it 😭 you can also search for "url ideas" in tumblr if you're having trouble!!) keep in mind you can literally change it at any point in time so don't worry about choosing the -perfect- one

set up your blog! most of the time, people have a navigation post (the pinned post where everything is linked so readers can navigate ur blog easily), a masterlist (a post that shows everything you've ever written), a wip list (a post that lists all your works in progress, so fics you're currently writing and want to publish in the near future). additionally, people have a post about themselves (like an about me section with blog rules and stuff. this is my old old one). personally, i have a carrd right now (this is mine here) and you'll find other users have one or the other!

set up your navigation post: hyperlink honestly everyone's different (btw don't worry about taking these tips too seriously bc honestly u should do whatever you want on your blog — it's yours after all!!) but I think most people include their name, pronouns, age (sometimes), timezone (sometimes) and hyperlinks to their masterlist + wip list.

how to hyperlink im sure you've done it before for school, but it's really easy! here's a demonstration — this link will send you to my navi, and this link will send you to one of my fics! to do it, you just need to copy the link of whatever post you're trying to hyperlink (three dots in the top right of the post -> "copy link"), typesomething, double click onto the word you're trying to link it to, tap the 🔗 button, and copy the link into that! (in this example, it'd look like this: something.)

how to make ur navi neat/pretty personally, I used to just search for moodboards (on tumblr) and pick 3 photos that I really liked (obviously give credit to whoever made the moodboard!). what I have now is just something that I designed but you can have one or the other, it doesn't really matter! other tips I think I'd suggest is to keep it as simple as possible; you can embellish it later but make sure it's easy to read and people can see all the links! I really like searching for "symbols" on Tumblr, and then there are cute lil symbols u can add to your post :) or just use emojis! or dashes! this might be a little ahead, but I have a tutorial on gradient text if you really care, but maybe focus on the base first :D just as an example, my moot @.hazyyu has a really pretty navi!

apply the same principles to your masterlist + wip list + about me just search for symbols, add whatever images you think look pretty, search for "line breaks" on Tumblr and there are pictures of links you can use to divide stuff up! making a carrd is easy but time-consuming (just search on YouTube "carrd tutorial")

there are other caveats to a writing blog, but those were just the basics! here are some other things I thought I could mention:

a permanent taglist is a list of people you tag every single time you publish a story/update it (for the purpose of them being notified every time you post) — sometimes people will ask u to "add me to your permanent taglist!" which just means tag them every time you post a story. personally, I have a google form for anyone that wants to be on the permanent taglist, but I didn't do that initially — I used to just wait until people sent in an ask asking to be on it and then I'd have a separate post with everyone who did. for example, this was my old one! doesn't matter whichever approach you do ^^

people also organise their blog via the hashtags I do this too! it's so much easier that way :)) for example, every time I get an ask, I tag it with "#ask" (umm a lot of people are much more creative w their tags but personally icb lmaoo — here's an example of my friend who used a different tag and it's really pretty!). if you want help with organising your blog w tags, here's an explanation I wrote a while back!

if you want help promoting your work, you should consider joining a few networks! these are basically big big blogs that reblog all your work so more people can see ur stuff ^^ here are some of the ones I'm a part of: kflixnet, enhanet, k-labels!

you'll meet other users along the way and call them your moots; most of the time this just means you interact w them a lot via asks/dms. personally I'm not really active and I kinda find it hard to keep track of a lot of moots so I stick to myself and interact w anyone that comes my way!! but bae u can do whatever u want!! go find blogs of people that seem rlly cool and send an ask and just see where it goes; just don't badger people, be nice and I think you'll pick up on sm things naturally!!!

ur blog is gna look great!!! let me know when you finish setting it up!!! I hope this helps 😋💖

[decafdino]

Can you give me some advice plss? bc I just love your writing so so much... then I think it's a good idea

I love writing stories and imagining them, I think of a new one pretty much every day but there's one that I can't get out of my head and I really want to write so maybe I can post it and be able to share some of my thoughts of Carlos childhood and Tarlos in general.

... but my insecurities won't let me write a full paragraph without thinking it's awful and everyone will hate it. So I was wondering if you have any tips for me.

Thank youu

Okay so first off— it means a lot that there is someone out there who is seeking my advice on writing. Like wow, thank you.

Second, I understand what you mean about having so many ideas swirling around in your head. Brainstorming is one of my favorite pastimes and definitely was my jumping off point when I started getting in to fic writing. I started out writing 911 LS fic because no one was writing the story that I wanted to read, so I just did it myself instead.

As someone who reads a lot— and I mean A LOT— I have seen many different styles of writing, from modern poetry to classical literature to (my most often-read medium) fanfiction. Fic is special, because there's this understanding when you click on the title or link to a page that what is being posted is made out of love for the fandom you're writing for. It means that it doesn't have to be perfect, and as a reader, for the most part, if I can understand what you mean through your word choice and what's happening in the story, I'm going to enjoy it. I can say with absolute certainty no one is going to hate you, the author, for writing something in celebration of a fandom (the exception of course is if you choose to write about something that's controversial in any way in your fandom space, but that's generally a given for being online.) Plus, the worst that could happen is if someone doesn't like your fic, they'll hopefully just click off. If you're writing for LS specifically, I can basically guarantee you that whatever response you get is going to be positive, because that's just how this fandom is in my experience.

The point of me saying that is that if you have an idea, you should write it. It doesn't have to be perfect in the first draft, and honestly when you post the final draft on ao3 no ones expecting you to be Shakespeare.

(Also, if you want to know a secret? Tons of authors struggle just the same as you do with imposter syndrome. In fact, I've taken a break from writing today because I was stressing myself out about it so much. Twenty-four hours later and I'm feeling better about it. Whenever you get that way, I think it's important to remember that no one is going to write like you do, because that's the beauty of the artform: it's unique. When it gets overwhelming for me, I like to take a step back for a day or two, then come back at my draft with a fresh set of eyes.)

But I think the most important thing, if you do want to get in to writing, is to not delete the stuff you've written. Yeah, you might cringe later at it, but first drafts ain't pretty for anyone. They're for laying the foundation of your story, and the best part is no one ever has to see them because you can just edit the fic to be better and better in the later drafts. Again, if you have an idea, then you should run with it. The only opinion that really matters is your own.

TL; DR I believe in you, anon! Go forth and create your own beautiful, unique art! (and maybe also send me the link if you do end up posting so that I can hype you up)

Much love,

DecafDino | Flogsam

ps. feel free to hmu if you have any more questions. my inbox is always open ;)

[chimielie]

in my time

summary: Iwaizumi x Reader. a surprise visit to your boyfriend’s school doesn’t go as planned

word count: 1.5k

cw: slight injury (but not really), extremely mild angst with a heavy dose of fluff

a/n: i will never write a fic with good or normal formatting. this is my promise. (PDT is iwaizumi texting reader, JST is reader texting oikawa, who is GMT-3. i did so much math trying to figure out the timing if there is a mistake please tell me. or don’t)

7:01 AM, Pacific Daylight Time: morning!! and goodnight, you’d better fucking be asleep by now

[rewind]

6:04 PM, Japan Standard Time: tooru help i don’t know how to airplane

6:04 AM, Greenwich Mean Time - 3: well the good news is that you don’t have to fly it.

6:04 PM, JST: why are you always so unhelpful

6:05 PM, JST: what if they catch me for committing identity fraud and i get arrested and miss my flight

6:05 AM, GMT-3: that would only happen if you were committing fraud, which you’re not, because you’re boring

6:05 PM, JST: but what if i am and i don’t know it

6:05 PM, JST: what if i’m carrying firearms and i don’t know it!!!

6:06 AM, GMT-3: you should not be allowed to fly alone

6:06 AM, GMT-3: they should assign you a guardian and put a sign around your neck that says “big baby”

6:12 AM, GMT-3: sorry was that mean :( i was jokingg

6:13 AM, GMT-3: did you actually get arrested for identity theft?? does iwa-chan need to fly over and bail you out?

6:15 PM, JST: sorry i was in the line doing the thing

6:15 AM, GMT-3: why did it take so long

6:16 PM, JST: ...i forgot my own birthday

6:17 AM, GMT-3: LOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLL

6:17 PM, JST: shut up!!! shut up

6:17 PM, JST: why would you send haji to bail me out anyway? wouldn’t that ruin the whole point of a surprise visit

[skip]

7:03 AM, PDT: good.

[skip]

6:24 AM, JST: guess who survived the flight!!!!

6:32 PM, GMT-3: glad you made it :P give iwa-chan a kiss for me!!

6:32 PM, GMT-3: with a disgusting amount of tongue pls

[rewind]

11:45 PM, PDT: hey, is everything okay?

“Within the program, you must...”

Every word out of the lecturer’s mouth blows on the breeze right over Hajime’s head. Ordinarily, he can fight through the most boring lessons and come out with a semblance of studyable notes without succumbing to the desire to sleep, but today, his head is bent over his lap, his activity becoming less and less discreet every time he pulls out his phone from beneath his leg and checks it.

Still nothing.

He blows out a breath and looks ahead, tapping his pen against his lips. He can’t quantify the growing anxiety inside him, unsure where it came from or why it won’t go away. Surely he’s not so high-maintenance that a couple days without word from you is fully freaking him out?

He checks his phone again, the screen disappointingly blank. Apparently, he is so high-maintenance.

Honestly, he knew what he was getting into when he reassured you that your relationship would survive long-distance. He knows a couple missed calls isn’t the end of it all. He knows you’re probably just busy with your own studies.

But too busy for him?

He shakes off the thought as he exits the classroom, gaze still focused on his phone as he expertly navigates the hallways to the outside world. It’s probably not even a matter of priority. Maybe you’d dropped your phone in the sink and were having trouble replacing it, maybe the cell tower near you had taken a hit during a storm, maybe you had been kidnapped and that was why your location had been off and his messages not delivering since before bed yesterday...

Hajime’s eyebrows draw together and he clicks his phone off with more force than necessary, shoving it into his pocket with the resolve to stop thinking about it. Even you blocking him would be a more likely scenario than the last.

...Ouuuuugggghhh.

His phone buzzes and he jumps violently, yanking his phone out and flipping it around in his hands before checking the screen.

Volleyball practice - intramural reads the calendar notification. He tries valiantly to pretend that the chagrin washing him is nonexistent, and shuts the device in his locker, closing the door as gently as possible.

“Hey, you okay?” One of his teammates touches his shoulder, concern evident on his face. “You seem kinda off, like... you’re still the fucking best, don’t get me wrong, you’re just not really on today.”

“Yeah,” sighs Hajime, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I was actually thinking I’d stay behind, hit a few more balls. I’ll take care of cleanup and all of that, too.”

“Really? Sweet,” his teammate grins. “Hope it helps you work through your shit!”

Alone in the gym, Hajime can hit as hard as he wants, wherever he wants. He grunts as his palm slams the ball dead on, the sound punched out of him by the force of his hit. When he comes back to the ground, a jolt traveling up from the hard floor through his bones, he feels the ache of satisfaction spread through his body.

As many balls as he hits, though, as many frustrated noises he lets out, he doesn’t feel himself working through his frustration so much as feeding it. Stress tightens his muscles, constricts him around the throat- when he misses his mark, he growls and scrubs the back of his hand over his eyes, turning to grab another ball from the bin to deflate.

Behind him, he hears the familiar thud of the ball hitting something hard, and then- a squeak - a thump - oh, fuck, there’s someone lying facedown in the gym entrance, the stray ball bouncing around behind them.

The wall of panic that hits Hajime is all-consuming. He almost can’t see for his tunneling vision as he runs over, dropping the ball he was holding, stammering out an apology in Japanese.

English, he thinks frantically, I need English, what’s- how do you say-

“ARE YOU SORRY?” He bellows at the prone figure, his voice loud enough to raise the dead.

It’s somewhat effective.

You raise your head, making a whining noise in the back of your throat, and then plant your face back into the gym floor, cheek smushed against the hardwood.

“Oh,” Hajime calls your name from distantly above you, “Holy shit. Holy shit.”

This is - a lot to process. He decides to join you, lying down on his back next to you, contemplating the life decisions that led to his concussing you after you traveled who knew how many hours and miles to surprise him and then promptly yelling at you for it.

“Aren’t you supposed to check me for internal damage?” You croak after a moment. “What are they even teaching you in this school?”

“Shit, sorry,” he says, sitting up. “Oh, God, are you okay?”

“Yeah, Haji, I’m fine,” you grace him with a smile. “You don’t hit that hard.”

He gives you a look, then rolls you onto your back, hovering over you and checking almost every inch to make sure you’re truly unharmed. You consider swatting him away, but it’s been so long since you had his undivided attention you just sit back and giggle as he inspects you.

“Am I cured, Dr. Iwaizumi?” You ask when he sits back on his heels, a satisfied look on his face as he takes you in.

“You have pretty eyes,” he answers noncommittally, having just concluded his vision test. “The prettiest.”

“You’re so,” you start to complain, but he cuts you off, three fingers under your chin as he holds your face with one hand, kissing you like he’s dying of thirst in the desert, like he never wants to be parted from you. It says everything he struggles to share.

You share a stillness when you separate, tangled in each other and listening to the exclusive sound of your synchronized breaths. Where one ends, the other begins, the borders between you barely distinguishable.

“I’m sorry I almost killed you,” he says, the sound of his laughter-infused voice a warm balm over you.

“Were you trying to apologize afterward? Or do you just really hate your schoolmates?” You want to know, one hand moving slowly against his back, creating friction that stimulates his heart.

“I tried to say ‘are you okay’ and ‘I’m so sorry’ at the same time,” he tells you. “The result was...”

“Are you sorry?” You mimic, yelling right in his ear. He frowns at you and digs his fingers into your ribs, until you’re squirming and barely able to demand that he lets you go because all your air is wasted on laughter.

“No,” Hajime says petulantly, even as he ceases tickling you. “Stay.”

You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. The message reads loud and clear: Welcome home.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

[ltleflrt]

Hey Carrie! You talked a little the other day about writers' tendency to start a fic too early in the story, and how you see a lot of first scenes that could have been scrapped to improve the story. My question is if you have some tips to recognize while writing that first scene that you are starting too early in the story?

Hello friend!

That's a really good question, and I'll see if I can give an answer that makes sense. I am not a professional, and I'm not educated or trained in this stuff, it's just something that I recognize from years and years and years of voracious reading. And as with all writing advice, I encourage you to take what I'm going to say with a grain of salt and remember that no writing rule is a hard rule, only a guideline.

Also, my advice is going to be pertaining fanfiction, and specifically to AUs. Obviously a published book has an editor with a razor blade going through a manuscript for you, and the problems that bother me in fanfiction crop up in AUs more than Canonverse.

Oh, and every instance of "you" is general, not specific 😜

So I think the main problem that I see is that people are starting with an Info Dump. An Info Dump is not always a bad thing, sometimes it's completely necessary, but it is NOT where you want to start your story. If it absolutely has to be done, it's better to be somewhere in the middle or near the end. When it's something that your characters need to know.

That's an important bit: Do your characters need to know this?

And related to that: Does your audience need to know this for the story to make sense?

And very important follow up: If the answers to the above questions are yes, does the character/audience need to know this RIGHT NOW?

There's a lot of information about your story that YOU need to know. Heck, my notes files are full of sooooooo much stuff that I know about the characters and plot that never reaches the final product.

So when you're reading your first chapter (I say reading, not writing, because sometimes info dumping for your own benefit is good, and then you fix it before you share the story lol), ask yourself those two questions.

So for example:

In an AU where Dean is a tattoo artist, and it's his POV. The story starts with Dean driving to work, and when he gets there he's going to find out that the empty shop next door has been purchased and is going to be a yoga studio. He meets Castiel out front, up on a ladder trying to hang a hand painted sign, and some teens go running buy and knock into the ladder and Dean has to catch Castiel from falling. (Anyone who wants to adopt this idea is welcome to it btw, I would love to read this lol)

The mistake I often see in a first chapter like this is that as Dean is walking to work, there's a whole Info Dump about why he's a tattoo artist instead of a hunter. He'll be ambling along, thinking about his nice little business, and there's info about how his mom died in a fire, and his dad was a jerk, and Dean didn't go to college because he saved his money for Sammy's college fund, and Dean's only passion was art, and Bobby Singer introduced him to a tattoo shop owner who took Dean under his wing, etc.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: Why is Dean reflecting on his past? Does Castiel need to know this information in order to build a romance with Dean?

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Why does this information matter? If Dean's only reflecting on this because you want to make sure your audience knows where the timeline changed and this became an AU, then you're starting too early in your story. Dean doesn't need to know this, and honestly in a lot of cases the reader doesn't need to know this. This is information that should have been left in your notes file.

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: If this information is pertinent to the plot, like maybe there's some trauma there that Castiel might need to know about to develop their relationship, then you don't want to put it HERE, you want to put it in a conversation with Castiel LATER.

If I was writing this AU, I would just start with Dean sipping his coffee, he's kinda tired because reasons, he looks up to see an unusual commotion, and has to drop his coffee and sprint forward to catch Cas. If he's reflecting on anything in this scene, it's going to be whatever made him tired, or how good/bad the coffee is this morning. Since Cas is a new business owner, they can talk about the origins of Dean's business on their first date, because it'll be a relevant response to Castiel talking about the origins of his yoga studio.

And just in general, if Dean's origin story includes a lot of canon elements, like mom dying in a fire, dad being a deadbeat, Sammy being the adorable overachieving Stanford student.... try to hide that info for as long as you can so that the audience is actually curious about it by the time the info might pop up. It's the wild divergences that are more interesting earlier on.

Okay, and then I want to talk about my giant pet peeve for a starting chapter. It's a specific kind of info dump, that often includes the stuff from above, but then goes a step further.

My nemesis, The Daily Grind.

I haven't asked the authors, so I could be wrong about this, but I feel like most of the time when this type of chapter is included in a story it is because the author wants to show the reader that the character's life is boring and meaningless before the plot's inciting incident. I can absolutely see why that might be considered an important detail about the character, but keep in mind if it's boring and meaningless to the character, it's boring and meaningless to your audience.

You know how I said earlier that writing tips should never be hard and fast rules? Well this is in regards to that Show Don't Tell rule, and it's an example of TOO MUCH showing lol

It is possible to do a daily grind in an interesting way, but only if you include a Shake Up right away. And you have to look at the 3 questions a little bit differently.

So for example:

Castiel POV, and he works in an office. His daily routine is to always get up at the same time every day, he goes for his run, he grooms himself, he has his breakfast, he goes to work and talks to Kelly about how Jack's doing in kindergarten for a few minutes before going into his office. Adler comes in to be a prick, Castiel hates him for it, and then he does his reports, has lunch hiding in a corner of the lunch room so that his co-workers will leave him alone, he does more reporting, leaves an hour after his shift technically ends, goes home to a lonely apartment that maybe includes a pet who is the only being that shows him affection, has an unsatisfying dinner of leftover takeout while watching a mindless reality tv show, then he goes to bed.

Ugh.

BORING.

Which, yeah I get it, the point is that his life is boring. But now the story is too, and I've clicked the back button before I can see how exciting it's capable of getting.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: No. He knows. Poor thing definitely already knows.

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Yes, but...

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: Yes, but new question for ya:

Optional Question 4, why does this need to be separate from your plot's inciting incident? The answer to this 4th question is usually that it doesn't.

Chapter 2 of this type of beginning usually shows the shake up of Castiel's day. My advice is to start with the shakeup, and sprinkle in the details of what you would have put into chapter 1 to show the contrast. It's far more interesting to learn how boring Castiel's day is by starting with the shake up.

So, same scenario:

Castiel's alarm doesn't go off for some reason, OH NO HIS ROUTINE IS SHAKEN UP! You're explaining his routine while also stressing him the fuck out because he has to rush, or skip something that he normally needs to do. Action! Interesting! He gets to work late, and has to miss his conversation with Kelly about Jack because she's telling him that Adler's already in his office being a prick because Castiel isn't there waiting for him like he always is. Oh shit, he's pissing off his asshole boss! Conflict! He's so flustered by the shakeups that he misses something on his report, and he gets a call from that new marketing guy Dean Winchester who asks if they can have a meeting about it when Castiel normally takes his lunch. BAM! MEET CUTE OPPORTUNITY! While Castiel is getting all flustered by how pretty Dean is while they talk about TPS reports, he can reflect on how this is both better and worse than hiding from his co-workers in the corner of the lunch room. The rest of the day after that meeting he's thinking about how weird this day is, he still goes home an hour late, he talks to his pet about his weird day when he gets home, and maybe he still eats leftover takeout, but he's not paying attention to the reality tv show because holy shit he wants to count Dean's freckles.

In this example, you're Telling the audience about Castiel's normal routine instead of Showing them. But since it's during a plot heavy chapter, it works!

Lemme see if I can TL:DR this...

As you're reading, ask yourself who needs to know this information, why do they need to know this information, and why is it important for this information to be included early instead of later?

If the answer to any of those questions boils down to "this is backstory" instead of "this kicks off the plot", then you've started too early.

I hope this helps? I'm always nervous about giving writing advice because so much of the time I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm just feeling around in the dark. And I definitely do not ever want to hurt an author's feelings, because this hobby is so fucking hard, and we're all fragile. Even authors who welcome con-crit with open arms will have a weak point that they're unaware of that might get poked wrong and cause a crack, ya know?

I hope anyone who gets this far who might see their own works reflected in my examples understands that I have a lot of respect for their ability to put their work out into the world, and I want them to keep doing it. We're here to have fun, okay? Okay. I love y'all 💜