#i’m sorry we just have so many feelings about this

[ak4e7a]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞) - 𝐩𝐬𝐡

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧 / '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦

synopsis: you were never one to take the high road... until you met someone who made your body burn like rubber on asphalt.

street racer! hoon x street racer!maneater! reader

wc: 16.9k holy fuck honestly this hoe might be a 3-parter lowk

a/n: hi sorry i disappeared... but enjoy LOL and happy one year to my blog! i met so many cool people over this past year. reblogs are appreciated and i will astral project into your room and hug you ≽ܫ≼

banner by @karinasbaby i love you this one's for you big dawg. year in the making, let's go

“Didn’t think you were going to grace us with your presence tonight, Miss Probation,” Jaeyun smirks as you get out of your car, swinging both of your legs out closed like a lady so as to not flash anyone with the black miniskirt you’re wearing. He greets you with an air-kiss to your cheek, to which you roll your eyes—although you bask in the way the other girls stare at the two of you. If only they knew how annoying your best friend actually was.

“It’s Jungwonie’s turn to race for us, so who am I to deprive my brother and the team of our good luck charm? We need all the luck we can get tonight,” you reply, taking a seat on the hood of your baby pink Supra. “We’re on a good win streak. Might even take this season’s cup without me.”

The other racers from different teams have started to arrive, many of them making their way over to say hello to you. You give your girls—Jimin, who races for Razor; Aeri, the beloved race girl; and Soyeon, a member of the AZ team—air-kisses from across the parking lot. You aren’t feeling like walking over to the groups they’re mingling with. (And because you don’t feel like being near Hwang Hyunjin right now.)

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, sitting beside you when you pat the spot next to him. “But you know, Wonie is better than you think—”

“Hey, you never let me sit on your car,” Wonbin says, striding over to you with a smirk. You glance up at him, and he looks like he’s expecting you to either push Jaeyun off or scoot over yourself—either way, he wants a turn.

Basically everyone in your little racing scene does, but you think it’s more fun to work them like dogs than to give in to anyone. Especially not after what happened with— “You’re not even in Enigma, Wonbin. Privilege is for teammates only, get lost,” Jaeyun says condescendingly.

He looks at you again, like an expectant puppy—which only works if it’s Jaeyun doing it to you— waiting for you to reach into your purse. You sigh and reach in and feel around for a particular wrapper. “Here. Go away.”

The Australian snickers as Wonbin walks away dejectedly. “The grandma coffee candy, huh?”

“He was too cocky, that's all he deserves tonight. Even if he’s cute. He’s lucky I gave him anything at all.”

“What about me? I’m cuter,” Jaeyun asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with his signature cheeky grin, batting his eyelashes at you the way you do to him. You’re used to flirting with him; it’s more of a way to keep both your skills and his sharp than anything romantic or suggestive. After all, you grew up with Jaeyun, and you know all his embarrassing secrets just like he knows yours. One time in high school, the two of you fake-dated for a week to get some girl too obsessed with him for her own good to leave him alone. It’s safe to say she didn’t buy it, not one bit. You and him bickered too much for it to be believable, and you accidentally screamed when he kissed you on the forehead. 

“Hmm…” Playfully, you pretend to be deep in thought, hand digging in your purse again. “Here.”

His face lights up in innocent delight, a huge contrast to his outfit of baggy cargo pants, oversized hoodie, and sneakers, complete with a thick, iced-out Cuban-link chain around his neck. “Ooh, yum! Grape Hi-Chew!”

You roll your eyes. “I only carry that for you, loser. Everyone knows the mango one is the best.”

“You just say that because grape was—”

“Hey, Y/N! Nice wrap,” Riki says, waving his long arms at you like he’s drowning. The tall, newly-turned 21-year-old bounds towards you before tackling you in a hug that sends you almost crashing into the ground, your hands flying to tug the hem of your skirt down lest your protective younger brother scold you about not dressing for the weather. It’s a cold spring night, as proven by Riki who’s in a loose, knitted navy blue sweater and destroyed light wash jeans.

“Jeez, Riki, I just saw you yesterday, no need to suffocate me,” you grumble affectionately, reaching up to muss his black-and-silver hair before sitting back down on the hood of your car. You’ve been fond of the boy since Jungwon brought him over one day, his first new friend since losing his best friend (and one of yours, honestly) in a betrayal that still hurts to speak of to this day. Riki clings onto you like you’re his older sister, too, and you reckon it probably has something to do with missing his own sister back home. “You saw me finish the wrap on the car, too, remember? Jimin and Soyeon were there.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it looks good even at night! Very professional. Maybe you can wrap the GTR next?” he says, to which you side-eye him, and he adds, “I can pay you.”

“You can pay for my meals every time we go out to eat for the next three months and I’ll call it even.”

He laughs. “Okay, deal. You eat less than Jungwon hyung, anyways.”

“Why are you talking shit about me to my sister again, freak?” your younger brother demands, making his way up to the small crowd that’s starting to form around you, Riki, and Jaeyun. He looks taller today, you think to yourself, and when he comes into full view, you see that he’s riding on the back of an unfamiliar person, a tall man with a sharp jawline and a pretty nose, whose bangs droop over his eyes. He’s wearing a white tank top and jeans, with a black and blue leather racing jacket covering his torso from the chilly Seoul air. 

“Well, did I fucking lie?” Riki snaps back, arms crossed. You hide your laugh in the crook of your arm, eyes locking with the man who’s got your brother draped over his broad shoulders like a backpack. He looks at you intensely, in a way that makes you feel like he’s got x-ray vision or something. You feel like your insides are turning into lava. What’s his deal?

“Whatever, cricket legs.” Jungwon jumps off the man’s back, shaking his hair out of his eyes. You notice that he’s yet again stolen one of your oversized hoodies. “Oh, hyung! This is my sister, by the way. Noona, this is Sunghoon hyung. He’s joining Enigma.”

He’s cute, pretty, even, and you like that. You’ve always preferred pretty boys. And up until about five seconds ago, you would have said that—even though your ex-boyfriend is a cheating bastard who deserves nothing but suffering—he was still the prettiest man you’ve come across. 

But this one, this one in front of you right now, this one takes the cake. He’s got full, thick brows that frame dark almond eyes, and his cheekbones flow into his jawline in a way that makes you think his face has probably stopped traffic at least once in his life. Before you stare at him for way too long, you reach into your purse and pull out one of your mango-flavored Hi-Chews (from your personal stash) to give him. 

“Hi, Sunghoon. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Enigma.”

He repeats his own version of your greeting a bit too curtly for your liking, but you don’t care either way, he’ll be under your thumb in no time, just like everyone else, just the way you like. Rolling the wrapped cube in his hand, he asks, “What’s this for?”

To which you reply, “Oh, nothing. I just like candy.”

“I feel like ‘like’ is an understatement,” Riki snorts, sticking his hand in your purse for something he can snack on. You sigh and hand him your purse for him to rummage around more freely. 

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at that, but turns to you anyways. “Do you race, too? I don’t want to assume or anything.”

You give him a coy smile, translucent bubblegum-pink-manicured fingernails clicking against the hood of your car as you drum your fingers against it. “Yeah, I do. I’m banned from racing right now, though, until the end of the season at least.”

He cocks his head like a curious puppy, blinking slowly at you. Oh, no. He’s cute and probably doesn’t know it, but he’s definitely dressed like he knows he’s hot. “Why’s that?”

Your smile turns into a smug smirk as you answer, “Because I go too fast.”

“Fourth-gen Supra,” he muses, glancing between your bare legs at the titanium Toyota emblem on the hood that you’d had imported from Japan. For some reason, you have to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “Cute.”

“Oh? And what’s your ride?”

“Beamer M8 Comp,” Sunghoon says, an air of nonchalance about the answer like it’s nothing special. It kind of pisses you off. You’re pretty certain he didn’t win that car by racing for the pink slip like you did with your Supra. Before you got that car, Jungwon’s 350Z was yours, and you’d only had it because you salvaged it from a junkyard and rebuilt the whole damn thing yourself when you weren’t working or sleeping.

If there’s one thing you might hate more in this life than cheaters, it’s people who come from money, people who didn’t understand or couldn’t comprehend that they were playing life on easy mode. People who never had to suffer, because, to you, they never learned anything.

Sure, you had a hard life. Sure, your parents kicked you and Jungwon to the curb when the both of you refused to take over the family business. Sure, you worked hundreds or, more likely, thousands of hours just to make ends meet and take care of your brother while the two of you finished school. Sure, you wished you could have enjoyed your youth more instead of having to worry about money.

But instead, you had to pay the price for your freedom. Part of you still wonders if it was all worth it. If you should have stayed in your hometown. If you should have just went along with the arranged marriage your parents were proposing with someone you didn’t even know instead of running away with your ex and dragging Jungwon to hell with you.

Okay, maybe it really pisses you off. 

“Ooh, rich boy,” you deadpan, your long nails preventing you from balling your hands into fists. You deny him the pleasure of seeing you roll your eyes back into your head. “Daddy must have spent a lot on you.”

“That’s not very welcoming to say,” he shoots back, although his voice is just as flat, his eyes narrowed at you.

You pout mockingly at him. “I’m just teasing our newest member—don’t worry, silver spoon. It’ll be over for you sooner if you decide to quit while you’re ahead.”

“You scared you won’t be the best racer on the team anymore or something, princess?”

“Just wait for me to get off probation and I’ll make you eat my brake dust, Daddy’s Money.”

“You’re already calling me daddy, even though we just met? Because it was my money that bought the car, for the record.”

You’re a little embarrassed and also slightly turned on, neither of which you would ever admit to even Jaeyun, and he knows you just about as well as he knows every single Fortnite map. “Tell someone who cares.”

The back-and-forth between the two of you is thankfully cut short as everyone hears the roar of a particular engine, marking the arrival of Enigma’s leader. You could just kiss him for his impeccable timing—if it weren’t for the fact that neither of you saw each other that way. You reckon both of you would rather eat a jean jacket than get more intimate than the platonic skinship that marks your friendship with him and the other Enigma boys.

People move aside as he puts the metallic, slime green Lamborghini Huracan in reverse and backs up into the parking spot next to you. The ostentatious exotic car belonging to Jay was gifted to him by one of his first clients, a filthy rich businessman who respected and admired Jay’s hard work and dedication to his job despite Jay being a corporate grunt in those days. During this period in your lives, Jay never once showed up late to a meeting with Mr. Big—even when his old Mitsubishi Lancer finally gave up on him after years of being pushed to its limit, even if it meant he had to wake up at three in the morning to start walking from his old apartment in Ahyeon-dong to Gangnam to make the scheduled 6 AM meetings—since the subways unfortunately didn’t operate until 5:30.

After Old Moneybags found out about Jay’s struggle, it was safe to say your best friend wasn’t on hard times for very long after that.

“Jay!” you call out, playing up your role as the only girl in Enigma just to assert dominance over the racer groupies in attendance tonight. You haven’t seen him since the last race, on account of the both of you being too busy with your work schedules to hang out properly. You immediately nudge past everyone—including Sunghoon, who you intentionally brush up against, your ass against his leg—to be the first to greet him.

“Hey, sweets, missed you,” he says, pulling you into a hug. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, been just fine. You know me, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” you assure him with a smile. He pinches your cheek. “What about you?”

“Oh, same shit, different day. Hoping I finally clutch this huge promotion at work. Head of an entire department,” he answers, protective hand on your waist as he guides you back to the rest of the Enigma boys. Along the way, he daps up some of the other racers who say hi to him, before giving Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Riki a dap and that weird side hug that guys who are close friends do. “Have you met Sunghoon yet?”

“Yeah, I have.” Your lips form into a slight pout, even though you know everyone but Riki is immune to your occasional petulance. “No one told me we were getting a new member. I thought we agreed to vote if it ever happened again? And… I thought it was never going to happen again?”

“You weren’t answering your phone when we voted, so Riki and Wonie took your vote,” Jaeyun snickers, shaking Jay’s hand and giving him the one-armed, “definitely not gay, bro” hug. “Think you had the group chat muted again.”

“Well, that was for good reason,” you argue crossly. While you loved your boys, that didn’t stop them from getting on your nerves at least once a day. “I was mad at you guys for not wanting to go get milk tea with me. And then you got it without me, clearly.”

“Didn’t we bring you some that night, though?” Jay retorts, ever the level-headed one when his temper wasn’t getting the best of him.

“Yeah… but I wanted to come! We live in the same building, for fuck’s sake!”

“It was a boys’ night, silly. Are you a boy?” Jaeyun pats your head and you swat his hand away, grumbling under your breath at him to not to touch you and to fuck off. 

Your attention veers to Jungwon as he turns to Sunghoon, who’s standing with his arms crossed, watching you bicker with the boys from a distance. “Don’t mind her, she’s always like this. You ready to race?”

“Always like what, Yang Jungwon?” you ask mirthlessly, hands on your hips.

“A brat!” Jaeyun and Jay answer on his behalf, tugging you away so as to allow the racers on tonight’s card to drive up to the starting line, and everyone else can get behind them.

That’s how your scene’s races have worked since you were tasked with changing the rules two years ago; two drivers from each team participating would race, while the others would drive behind them as pace cars. They would also be ready to distract the police at a moment’s notice and keep the roads clear of civillians. It was as ethical as you could make it, and, honestly, it worked and kept everyone safe.

On this night, you’ve been roped into Jaeyun’s metallic blue Mustang Shelby GT500, with glimmering white racing stripes you added on yourself, huffing and muttering to yourself about how the boys were being “mean” to you in front of Sunghoon to try and impress him. Jay has gone ahead to wait at the finish line. He’d refused—again—to not “put the Huracan anywhere near any of these morons with driver’s licenses,” and so he’s there to note down the order in which the racers arrive, armed with several precisely-calibrated stopwatches. 

You yourself have refused to ride with any other driver even though many of them offered to bring you along as their “passenger princess”. You will only ever ride with one of your boys. Riki is in his blacked out R35 Nissan GT-R, the other seats occupied with the life-sized plastic skeletons that he “borrowed” from his school’s anatomy lab. He’s cruising beside Jungwon, and behind you and Jaeyun; Sunghoon is in his own car beside you two.

“How’d you even meet that guy, anyways?” you groan to your best friend, trying to shield your eyes with the way Riki’s obnoxiously bright, blue underglow on his car is blinding you in your side mirror. Your hand dangles out of the open window, fingertips tapping idly on the outside of the door. “He’s so unfriendly.”

“Actually, he’s pretty cool when you get to know him. Riki and I met him at the gym a few weeks ago. He asked if one of us could spot him on the bench press—for three plates, that’s fucking sick! But, uh, yeah. We started working out together after that.”

You scoff. “Oh, great. Another meathead like you two.”

“Y/N, that’s not nice,” Jaeyun chides, glancing at you with the same affection of an older brother, even though you’re both 24 years old. “You’re not being very nice tonight.”

“Well, neither is he. He’s just some spoiled little rich boy who thinks he’s better than everyone.”

“Um… so am I, honestly… and so is Riki, honestly, but you don’t say anything about that, do you?”

You begin to reply, but you frown as Sunghoon speeds past the two of you in his pearly black BMW M8 Competition, the exhaust pipes screaming bloody murder, heading for the starting line just a hundred feet ahead. “Did he hear me say that about him?”

“Most likely.”

“Fuck.”

Part of you wants to apologize; maybe you’re being a little harsh on him, maybe you’re projecting your feelings towards this guy just because he reminds you of a certain someone, maybe you need to finally come to terms with what you’ve been denying for all these years.

Jaeyun pulls up to his spot behind the racers, right between Riki’s GT-R and Jungwon’s 350Z. You signal to the Nissan Boys, as you affectionately call your little brothers, to put their seatbelts on. They both pretend to sigh begrudgingly as they buckle themselves in.

The race girl is your good friend, Aeri, who every guy in your racing division is also obsessed with. Between the two of you, you think that she’s the truly adored one, because she is still as sweet as the day you met her—and you have an inclination to terrorize anyone of the opposite sex who rubs you the wrong way (due to your past). You can’t help it though, and, surprisingly, none of the boys who fall at your feet fault you for it.

But no one ever seemed to feel the need to prove you wrong, either, and that was your problem with them.

Aeri stands in between the middle two drivers, reaching under her top to unclip her bra. You take this as your cue to pull out the megaphone from where it sits waiting at your feet. Leaning out of the window, you announce, “First one to the base of Namsan Mountain wins! I expect a clean race, no funny business. Take no shit, but do no harm!”

“Isn’t that backwards?” Jaeyun whispers to you. You wave him off. He’s right, but you’re trying to emphasize your point about not dragging any innocent people into the racers’ mess.

You continue.“Tonight’s winner will receive the cash prize from me, personally, at a later time. Are we clear?”

A chorus of revved engines gives you your answer. “Alright. Aeri, count us down?”

She nods, pulling out her bra from her top and holding it up in the air. “‘Kay! You guys will go on 1! Ready? 3… 2… 1!” At the final number, she lets the hot pink satin garment drop to the ground, and everyone guns it, driving off in a flurry of exhaust smoke and burnt rubber.

“How much was the buy-in tonight, sweetie?” Jaeyun asks, using his own form of the sugar-derived nickname for you.

“Five million won apiece,” you answer. You scroll through Yun’s phone and play a song on his obnoxiously overpriced sound system. You’ve been joking to your friends that you’re in your “girl Future” era, citing your borderline toxic behavior towards the other racers who constantly slide in your DMs as proof that you’re literally the female version of the rapper. It doesn’t help that your coworker, Minjeong (who is also your self-appointed “work wife”), encourages you to torment men.

“‘I Serve the Base’? Really?” he snorts, leaning back in his seat. “You’re in a mood tonight, huh?”

“I dunno, it just fits the vibe,” you shrug. “Just quit yapping and drive, please.”

“Like I said, a mood.”

You sigh and physically turn away from him like a petulant girlfriend would—knees pointing towards the door and all—and stare out of the passenger window at the cars in front of you. You watch as Wonbin and Hyunjin duke it out on the road, trying to put each other in last place. The way they’re maneuvering their cars makes you a little uncomfortable, but also annoyed that they clearly didn’t listen to a word you said not two minutes ago. “Yunie, flash your high beams at them.”

“Say please.”

You look at him in confusion. Where’d he learn to say that?

“Sorry, Sunghoon does that to Riki and Jungwonie all the time.”

Yikes. Part of you hopes he doesn’t do it to girls, too… but you wouldn’t mind it if he were to do it to you. It’s high time someone really makes an effort to put you in your place, honestly. You reach behind you, to the back seat and grab the laptop you took from Riki, opening it up and typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Accessing the street cameras,” you answer like it’s obvious. Being nefariously good at using the Internet was a perk that came with hanging out with your brother way too much. “I want to see what’s going on.”

“Well? Give me the rundown, then.”

“Jungwonie is in third place, it looks like. He’s gapped Hyunjin in front of us by at least a kilometer… and he’s approaching San and Wooyoung real quick. But—fuck, wait.” You click through a bunch of tabs, scanning the screen faster than when you’re reading twenty-six text message screenshots that Aeri sent you to dissect. “I can’t find Sunghoon anywhere.”

“What? What do you mean you can’t find him? Did he get pulled over or something?” he asks, lowering the volume of his speakers using the button on his steering wheel, eyes still trained on the road in front of him. He flashes his lights again, this time at just Wonbin to pick up the pace, urging him to pass Riki—who now has his underglow set to a stealthy dark red—up ahead.

“No… just… wait, give me a sec… oh, holy fuck.” You click through the camera footage, rewinding it and slowing down the playback. “Oh, my God.”

“Jesus Christ, what is it? You can’t just cliffhanger me like that!”

“I can’t see him because his lights are off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think he has a mod on his car—you literally can’t see him unless he drives under a streetlight.”

“Wait, that’s what Riki imported for him?!”

“What the—oh shut the fuck up, it was me who imported that light system! That fucker said it was for a friend when I asked him why he was buying new bulbs, ‘cause I knew he just got those halo LEDs!” You take a deep breath before sticking your hand in the pocket of Jaeyun’s pants.

“Yo! I thought we agreed not to fuck in the car! And especially not while I’m driving—but I guess I shouldn’t turn down some road head…”

“God, shut up, you perv! I need to get your phone and call Sunghoon!” you cry out. “He needs to turn his lights on, what if he gets hit by someone?!”

Jaeyun laughs. He laughs. At your misery, or your panic, or at you. “So you do like him.”

“Shut the fuck up, seriously, Yun, I just don’t want anyone getting hurt. We’re already on thin ice with the cops as it is!”

“Shoutout San, though,” he chuckles, shifting gears so he can close the gap between him and Wonbin, who is starting to approach Hyunjin again. 

Your friend Choi San, also a racer on the AZ team, is from a family of high-ranking Seoul Police Department officials; he’d gotten pretty much everyone off the hook more than once for various traffic violations. You keep a stash of mint chocolates in your purse for whenever he’s around—even if they remind you of your ex-best friend—as your way of thanking him for keeping everyone’s records clean. It also helps that he absolutely loves your attention. 

“You’re so annoying, Sim Jaeyun. Let me call Sunghoon, seriously.”

“Dude, chill, look at the cams again. The gap between everyone is getting smaller.”

You check the laptop screen again, and he’s right. You see Jungwon overtake both San and Wooyoung, and while you’re still holding your breath in worry over your baby brother, another part of your heart soars with pride at how good he’s gotten. You’d like to think that he got his driving skills from you, even though it was your stupid prick of an ex-boyfriend who first put him behind the wheel of a car.

But when you look up, you notice that Jaeyun is distracted trying to change the song playing on his phone. And there’s a sharp turn coming up ahead. You feel sick, adrenaline immediately rushing through your bloodstream.

Instead of screaming nonsense, you slam the laptop shut, tossing it on the floor and practically crawling across the center console to grab the wheel with one hand and the e-brake with the other. You drive your knee into Jaeyun’s leg to floor the accelerator, and at the same time, you deploy the e-brake and turn the steering wheel hard. The car drifts around the turn with ease, thanks to him immediately springing into action, tossing his phone somewhere in the cupholders and countersteering as he shifts gears.

“Pay attention next time,” you mutter in annoyance, as if the two of you almost crashing was a slight inconvenience and nothing more.

“Sorry, Mommy,” he snorts, downshifting back to his cruising speed. You give him the middle finger as you watch the cars change formation in front of you. Hyunjin cuts off Wooyoung at the junction between two roads, and Wooyoung swerves in the opposite direction to avoid hitting San to his left. Wonbin approaches from behind San, flashing his lights, trying to get one of them to move over, but they both downshift, forcing Wonbin to brake, fall back, and move over to try and find another opening.

And then it happens.

You hear a distinct 8-liter engine roaring furiously somewhere in the vicinity, but you see nothing. You think for a second that it could be the sound of a police helicopter overhead, but you doubt it, not if San tipped off his family that there would be a race tonight, and he always does, because you remind him to do it. You think that he pretends to forget just so you’re forced to text him and he’ll have an excuse to talk to you, but you don’t really care because he’s sweet and always earns himself the best of your candy stash—although you’ll reluctantly admit that Sunghoon has been the first to get the candy that you carry for yourself. 

Because you’re not allowed to smoke inside Jaeyun’s car, you unwrap another mango Hi-Chew and wonder if Sunghoon would taste like you if you kissed him. Sure, you don’t like him all that much so far, but he’s hot, so maybe you could just hook up with him and dip—

Oh, who are you kidding? You haven’t slept with anyone since your ex, even though everyone thinks otherwise. You’ve made out with San and Hyunjin a few times, much to the amusement of Jaeyun and Jay, but you never let it get past that. You just go home and use your vibrator to finish the job. Sex is too intimate, feels too much like baring your soul to someone else and you don’t want anyone to get too close like that any time soon.

Too close, too close, too close just like the sound of that engine, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Sunghoon finally turns his lights on, and reveals his location for everyone to see. He’s at the front, way ahead of even Jungwon, who is currently trying to keep Hyunjin off his tail.

No one but Sunghoon ever had a chance to win.

The race ends before you can truly even register this fact, and everyone parks at the base of Namsan Mountain to congratulate the winner, who seems insanely put-off by all the attention.

“Jay,” you say, approaching the Huracan driver quietly, your shoes crunching the gravel beneath you.

He looks up from his phone at you, jawline illuminated by the screen. The way he slightly tilts his phone away from you signals that he’s texting Aeri. You laugh inwardly; he doesn’t know that you know about them secretly hooking up. “Mm?”

“What was Sunghoon’s time?” you ask. Your bottom lip is tucked under your teeth, and you don’t even realize how hard you’re biting down.

“Eight minutes, twenty three seconds.”

You gulp. Like actually, visibly gulp, as if you’re swallowing a hard-boiled egg whole like some cartoon character. “Oh. That’s—”

“Almost a whole minute faster than your record. He told me he took a detour somewhere at the halfway point.”

“He’s good,” you admit. “Just like—”

Jay interrupts you again, pocketing his phone. “Don’t say his name, sweets. They’re nothing alike.”

You turn to him, eyes searching for answers. He simply puts a hand on your shoulder before pulling you into the hug he knows you need right now. “It’s been two years,” you mutter into the fibers of his cashmere sweater, hoping that the knit is dense enough that it drowns out the sound of your voice. “Why do I still bring him up?”

“He was a big part of your life. And ours, too. It’s okay. You’re going to have to accept that none of it was your fault eventually.”

“And stop taking it out on anyone else that comes after him, huh?”

Jay pats you on the back. “Bingo.”

“Wait, no one ever gave me a real answer, but why do Jaeyun and Riki live together? And Jay and Jungwonie?” Sunghoon asks. He’s sitting across from you in the former pair’s living room, letting your younger brother lean against him as the alcohol takes over Jungwon’s weak tolerance.

You raise your glass like it’s an extension of your hand, leaning against the bottom of Jay’s leather couch where you sit beside him. “That was my idea, when I was moving out of my old apartment. I lived there with my ex, until I kicked him out. When my lease was ending, all of us decided to move to a new building—this one—and I figured that each of the two young ones should have a hyung to look after them. But also, I didn’t want anyone living with me.”

The last part leaves everyone silent, and you laugh, adding, “Why do you guys look surprised? I told you that when we were signing our leases.”

Sunghoon looks at Riki to his right, who is trying to make a soju bomb with more soju and less beer, and then across from Riki at Jaeyun, who is egging him on to just drink straight from the soju bottle, and back at Riki, who listens to the Australian intently, like he’s some sort of genius. “Are you sure that was a good idea?”

You wave him off. “Oh, yeah. They’re just off the clock right now. You know, can’t be serious all the time.” Oops, another dig at him.

Your phone chimes with notification after notification, and it’s not just updates from Candy Crush. It’s text messages, and not the good kind from Aeri or Soyeon telling you which racer they’ve gone home with tonight.

Before you can silence your phone, though, Jaeyun, who’s on your other side, picks up your phone, laughing exaggeratedly as he waves your glowing screen in the air. “Guys, look! I told you it was gonna happen!”

“What?” Sunghoon asks, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. You shake your head at him and mouth the words “don’t listen to him”.

But then Jay starts cackling, catching your phone over your head when Jaeyun throws it to him in order to read the messages out loud. You don’t even bother fighting their teasing anymore; in fact, you’re a little excited, because you know your boys are about to go in on whoever’s hitting you up. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here! From Wonbin: ‘it was nice seeing you tonight, do you want to hang out this week?’”

“Ewww, gross,” Jaeyun groans with a mouthful of fries. “He was literally trying to sit on the Supra when Y/N pulled up!”

His revelation is met with a chorus of laughs and jeers as your boys mock Wonbin for his transgression, for being so stupid and arrogant to think that you would have just given him a free pass. After all, that car is your baby. You suffered a lot for it, and not just anyone could come up and touch it. In fact, one time, Jungwon was banned from riding in your car for a month because he got his fingerprints on your side mirrors.

“Did San-hyung text noona?” Riki’s nosy ass asks, running up behind the couch and diving onto it to look over Jay’s shoulder. Jay pushes his head away. “Oh, shit, he did!”

Jungwon sighs, slumping further even against Sunghoon. “God, just read it and put me out of my misery. He’s so down bad for her, it’s disgusting.”

Jaeyun giggles, and kicks his sock-covered feet like a schoolgirl. “He’s probably gonna ask her on another date and make her bike along the Han River again.”

This makes you choke on your drink, and it almost comes out of your nose. “Hey, I thought we we agreed not to bring that up.”

“It’s not every day I open my Instagram and see your stupid ass fighting for your life getting hard-launched on his story,” he snorts. “Watching you trying to ride that bike gave me second-hand embarrassment.”

“Yeah, it’s like he didn’t even care that you looked stupid, he was really trying to let everyone know that he was out with you,” Jay adds. “Way to keep it lowkey, or whatever.” Your face burns hot with embarrassment as you realize that Yunie has taken out his own phone to pull up the screen recording of San’s Instagram story to show Sunghoon. Now you actually want to smack the phone out of his hand, but you figure it’s fine, you don’t care if he sees you like that. It shouldn’t matter, he’s just one of the guys now. He could join in the teasing for all you care.

Right?

“Yo, hold the fuck up, Y/N, I thought you and Hyunjin were done?” Jay says, scrolling through your notifications.

Your eyes flick up to Sunghoon, who is currently trying to busy himself with separating the perilla leaves—that no one has so much as breathed in the direction of tonight—as he seems to not pay attention to the video, or to what Jay is saying. Either that, or he really doesn’t find it funny. “Put it away, Yunie,” he says quietly, one hand gently pushing back Jaeyun’s phone towards him. “That’s too much. You’re embarrassing her.”

“I thought so, too,” you sigh at Jay, trying not to acknowledge the fact that Sunghoon may or may not have just stood up for you against your best friend. “He ignored my texts for, like, four days, and you guys know how much I absolutely hate that. I know I lag, too, but never that long. At least I’d tell you that I’m busy or whatever. Fuck’s sake.”

“What did Hyunjin hyung say?” Jungwon mumbles. He’s now using Sunghoon’s lap as a pillow, and the sight makes you feel a little soft. You love your younger brother to bits and pieces, and seeing him like this reminds you of the times he’d come home really tired from school and fall asleep at your dining table while you prepared dinner for the two of you. You often yearn for that period in your life, when things were much simpler and the only thing you were sad about was missing your family.

Now you have a new family, but another part of your heart is broken, and time hasn’t healed it—at least, not completely.

“He’s asking if she’s busy this week,” Riki answers. Part of you wants to drag him by the hair and put him on a one-way flight back to Japan. “Oh, Jay hyung is checking her calendar. Yikes, hyung… You’re still pushing that agenda?”

“What agenda?” Sunghoon pipes up after gulping down the last of his beer, his lips glossy from the liquor.

“Oh, he just thinks they’d be cute together,” the freakishly tall boy rambles, making a gesture out of Jay’s line of sight that signals to Sunghoon that Jay is crazy. The alcohol has made you basically nonverbal at this point, and you just let Riki explain your lore to the hot new member of your racing crew. Hopefully Sunghoon doesn’t remember any of it in the morning.“It’s kind of about time that noona gets a new boyfriend. Personally, though, me and Yunie-hyung are on Team San.”

“Isn’t that up to her though?” Sunghoon muses. “Like, why does it matter if she’s single or dating around?”

“Because she’s not that type of person who actually can do anything casual,” Jaeyun interjects, putting a hand over Riki’s mouth, only to pull away in disgust when Riki licks his palm. He wipes the drool off on Jay’s arm. “She just does it because she doesn’t want to get too close to anyone who isn’t us. So it’s a vicious cycle. She says she’s healing, but she can’t fully heal the part of her that was wounded because she needs to be in a relationship with someone who will be patient with her and prove her wrong. Someone who will help her finally get over… him.”

“I figured, from what you told me before,” Sunghoon says quietly to your supposed best friend. He’s not really being much of a best friend now, you think, even though everything he’s said is both correct and true.

This piques your interest. Your index finger circles around the rim of the open bottle of soju that you’d confiscated from Riki. “What do you know?”

“Ey, Hoon, watch what you say, I don’t want her throwing her drink at me!”

You roll your eyes and look back at Sunghoon. “Don’t listen to him. Tell me what Jaeyunie told you, and I’ll decide if I throw it at him or not.”

“Well—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Jay says, setting down his now-empty glass of beer with a smug, victorious grin. “Well, actually, I’m not, but I texted Hyunjin back and said you’d meet him at that new fancy Italian restaurant in Gangnam on Wednesday at 7. And before you say anything, yes, you’re free that day. I checked your calendar and your emails.”

You flaked on your date with Hyunjin. To teach him a lesson, of course.

But you do start seeing more and more of Park Sunghoon as the weeks pass, what with him being a full-fledged, initiated member of Enigma now. And you hate to admit it, but he’s starting to grow on you, even though you still think he’s kind of stoic—mostly towards you. You can tell he’s softening a bit, though.

Because, truth be told, you’ve also observed him to be honest and kind and genuine, the latter the rarest thing you see amongst the racers involved in your second life who throw themselves at you like moths to a flame. He’s sincere, but he also doesn’t mince his words, so you have no choice but to take them at face value. You like watching him get along with the other boys in your life, the only ones you truly love, the ones who have done nothing but love you like a family could and couldn’t.

Riki, for one, loves to pester Sunghoon when he’s around and makes you sit and keep score for them while they play table tennis in the game room of your apartment complex. They’re both extremely competitive, and you think to yourself that Sunghoon is such a good sport even when Riki’s elaborate, well-choreographed victory dance gets too annoying even for you to tolerate. You’re pretty sure he adds a new move every single time he does it.

They go to the gym on days where Riki’s done with class early enough to beat rush-hour, and they bring you along for dinner afterwards if you feel like coming. Riki’s now got a debt to pay to you, on account of you wrapping his GT-R in a metallic oil-slick color. You and Sunghoon chose it together, because no one else was replying to you in the group chat. Sunghoon even helped you install it, if helping you meant feeding you dumplings from a takeout container because your hands were full with the heat gun in one and a felt-edge squeegee in the other. 

For an entire weekend, he sat in your garage with you quietly, making idle conversation when the white noise would get too much for even him. He asked you about yourself, and you told him about how you met Jake in third grade, when his family moved to your hometown all the way from Australia, and how you became friends with him only because you were the only one in your class who knew how to speak decent English. (You watched a lot of American TV shows on illegal streaming sites.) In turn, you asked him if he likes his job as an investment banker, and he tells you that he wanted to be an automotive engineer when he was younger, but every man in his family works in finance and expected him to do the same.

This admission prompts you to share that you were supposed to step up and run your family’s successful chain of restaurants, but you refused to do so, choosing instead to run away with your boyfriend at the time and follow him to Seoul for the two of you to go to college. Jungwon even came with you, and you let him. Sunghoon asks you if you regret it. You say no, because, really, you don’t. But you do still have trouble sometimes trying to understand why some of the people you loved the most in this life—your mother, your father, and later on, your boyfriend—did not care if you were happy. 

They only really cared that you did as you were told.

And Jay, much to your amusement, happens to be at the butt of most of Sunghoon’s teasing—whenever he’s in his extroverted mood, that is. They bicker much like Tom and Jerry, but you can tell that they get along just fine deep down. After all, Sunghoon’s been helping Jay decorate his and Jungwon’s apartment, listening (more like tolerating, if anyone were to ask you) to Jay ramble on and on about Herman Miller chairs and Noguchi lamps, and no one else can be in the same room as him when he gets like that, and that’s saying something because your apartment is also decorated in the mid-century modern style. 

Jungwon sometimes tags along with them to furniture showrooms, strictly on the condition that they treat him to a meal afterwards. Sunghoon, not so surprisingly, is always the one who invites you along with them as well, ever since that first night when you complained about the boys getting milk tea without you. You wonder if it’s a pity invite, but you don’t really care much if it is, because he doesn’t seem like the type who does things he doesn’t want to do.

There was this one time two weeks ago that you came along with them to go pick out a new rug—first mistake. Your second mistake was forgetting to eat before leaving your apartment. You sat on a chair clutching your stomach with one hand, scrolling through your phone looking at the drink menus of nearby cafes with the other. Little did you know that Sunghoon, who was standing right beside you, was nosily peeking over your shoulder while also on his phone, typing in the names of whatever menu item you would pause on.

He disappeared for a few minutes after telling you he forgot something in his car. This left you to decompose in your (very cushy) chair while you listened to Jay and Jungwon argue about low-pile versus high-pile rugs. You contemplated how long it would take for them to notice that you’d passed out from hypoglycemia. But then Sunghoon returned, holding a bag from the food delivery app you all like to use. He’d nonchalantly and wordlessly taken out a peach iced tea and a sandwich to hand to you, but you looked up at him like he was God coming down to earth to save you. You thanked him profusely and he actually smiled at you, eyes crinkling up at the corners and turning into pretty crescent moon shapes. 

If you didn’t already know that Jaeyun loves women, you’d think that he has a crush on Sunghoon. You seem to have lost your pet best friend to his new pet rich boy. Jaeyun loves to spend time with Sunghoon, even though he’s not at all very talkative. Regardless, every single time you come over to Yun’s apartment, Sunghoon is either already there or five or ten minutes away, depending on the day of the week and the time at which your best friend invites you over to his and Riki’s apartment. 

Then the three of you, with the occasional addition of any or all of the three other Enigma boys, will inevitably order some takeout delivery and watch a film—”Not a movie,” you insist—until you inevitably start crying at the plot and say you have to go home before the boys really start making fun of you. Sunghoon always walks you to your door, even though you live just down the hall. You always tell him he doesn’t have to, but he always brushes you off and tells you to get your things so you can leave. 

And one time, about a week ago, you heard him scold the other guys for being mean to you, reminding them that even though you’re technically one of the boys, you’re still a girl at heart, and they should make some effort to be nicer to you. You heard him really dig in to Jungwon in particular, and while you kind of felt the urge to come back into the room and defend him, Sunghoon told your brother to show some respect and think about all the things you’d done for him in the past seven years. So you stayed back, still in shock that Sunghoon had spoken up for you so vehemently.

Speaking of your younger brother, your precious baby all grown up, the only family you have left: Jungwon adores Sunghoon, viewing him as the older brother you wished you could have been for him. Yes, Jay and Jaeyun are literally right there, but you can tell that the connection between Jungwon and Sunghoon is different. Jaeyun is good for keeping both Jungwon and Riki out of your hair when you’re busy, and Jay indulges your brother, spoiling him every chance he can get, having no siblings of his own. 

Somehow Sunghoon has gotten through to your brother in terms of his life and his career; after all, he’s close to finishing college soon and doesn’t know what he wants to do just yet. You would kill for a chance to help Jungwon, but you reckon he hasn’t come to you because he doesn't want to add to your stress and you could cry at how considerate he can be when he isn’t teasing you. You promise yourself that one of these days you’ll thank Sunghoon for his help, maybe some time after you finally admit to yourself that you were wrong about him being a prick. And maybe you’ll apologize for making assumptions about him in the first place.

Yes, you’ve been observing the way Sunghoon gets along with everyone, and you’re happy, you really are, but something is gnawing at you. While the arrival of new racers in your scene is nothing new, Enigma itself hasn’t been disrupted since Jungwon met Riki and all of that other shit went down. 

More importantly, you haven't been disrupted for so long. Two years, to be exact. It’s been two years since you got your heart broken twice, and you’ve spent so long holding everyone at arm’s length away from you because you’re not too keen on ever experiencing that again. Sure, you date around, but like Jaeyun said, they don’t mean anything to you. You know what they want and it’s what you refuse to give them. And then this guy, this fucking guy with pretty brown eyes who is soft-spoken and quiet and has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen in real life… this fucking guy comes in with the audacity to make you feel like he simultaneously likes you and wants nothing to do with you.

Although you think the latter is just a defense mechanism on your part. You’d tried to convince yourself that he only cares about you so that the boys don’t kick him out of Enigma, because if the two of you didn’t get along, there would be no way he could stay on the team. After all, you’re still their best racer, and more importantly, their best friend. But that can’t be all true, because you fight with the boys sometimes, sometimes real petty fights that end in everyone crying, and you’re still an Enigma member through and through. So telling yourself that Sunghoon secretly hates you because of your ways is a lie on your part.

Because right now, about three months after you’ve first met, when you’re at the club with the boys, there’s no way Sunghoon truly doesn’t like you. The rational part of your brain can recognize that; after all, you’ve watched him countless times coldly brush off the advances of random girls in public who see his credit card and try to take advantage of his generosity. 

And you saw with your own two eyes the way he looked at you when you’d asked him if what you were wearing (a white mesh mini dress with baby pink kitten heels) was actually “too much,” and if you should go change like the others had said. You heard with your own two ears when he told you, “It is a bit much, but you look good. If there’s any trouble, don’t worry, I got you.”

It’s a good thing your face was already pink from the makeup you’d dolled yourself up with.

You never have to pay for drinks when you go out. The boys know this. You always tell them to not waste their hard-earned money—or in Jungwon’s case, your hard-earned money—on you when you can get some rich loser to buy you a bottle of Clase Azul if you bat your eyelashes at them and say you want to ring the bell.

Tonight is different, though. Usually you can score some of the top shelf shit without so much as lifting a finger, but because Sunghoon went with you to the bar, you can sense that the men in the club are not willing to put your dirty Shirley Temple on their tab. He doesn’t even have his hand around your waist, but you assume it’s the malevolent energy radiating off him in waves of expensive cologne that have people socially distancing from you like you’ve got the plague.

“Something wrong, Hoon?” you ask him innocently, swapping cocktails with him as you’ve often found yourself doing whenever the two of you are out together. It’s been a running occurrence since you’ve started joining him and the boys on their hangouts. He’ll order whatever you want to try, be it pasta or a coffee, and you can order something else you like. You sip on his Jack and Coke before making a face and taking your tequila sunrise from him.

“Do you want to wear my jacket?” he says, leaning in close so that you can hear him over the thrum of the bass-boosted music. “These creeps are staring at you too hard. It’s freaking me out. Pissing me off, really.”

You shrug. The buzz is starting to really hit you, thanks to your pregaming session at Jaeyun’s before you left for the club. “Doesn’t bother me, I’m used to it. It’s not like any of them have a chance.” You reach over and brush off invisible lint off Sunghoon’s shoulder, lingering a little longer just to feel the hard muscles underneath his clothes. “You do, though.”

He looks at you with his lips pursed in a flat line, a look he often gives Jay when Jay won’t stop pestering him. Then he takes his jacket off and drapes it over you. “Just put this on. I’ll be right back, I have to take a call.” He shows you the glowing screen of his phone, and you can read the contact name. It’s one of his bosses, and you only know this from the time he invited you to have dinner with them (and they’d pestered Sunghoon into bringing a date, since all of them are married).

You nod in understanding and nestle yourself snugly in his leather jacket, the same black-blue-white combination that he’d worn the night you first met. Idly, you sip on your drink, watching the crowd of swaying bodies underneath the colored strobe lights. In the distance, you can spot Jaeyun’s freshly bleached head of wavy hair next to Jay and Wonie, and that’s only thanks to Riki’s freakishly tall frame standing out like a cell phone tower beside them. They’re dancing with a group of girls, and you try not to gag when you see your younger brother let a girl grind up against him.

“Hey, why don’t you take this off? It’s hot enough in here because of you,” someone yells out right beside you, trying to make himself heard over the music. You turn to him, already pissed off because who the fuck says that?

“No thanks,” you say flatly. “I’m good.”

Even if you are feeling a bit hot inside the packed club, there’s something in you that wants to respect Sunghoon’s wishes while he’s gone, because you know behind his cold exterior he means well and it’s his own roundabout way of looking out for you. Either that, or he’s possessive, your delusional brain thinks, catching a whiff of his cologne in the lining of it.

“Well—”

You’re not paying attention to the douchebag beside you. You look back to the crowd and your boys have disappeared, no giant, Oreo-haired Riki to mark where they are. Suddenly, your tequila sunrise threatens to show itself in your throat. You’ve been hit on before, of course, but not like this, not this insistently. You keep your poker face on, trying to figure out how to get away from him but also avoid getting sucked in and trampled on in the giant crowd that just seems to keep doubling in size.

“Is he bothering you, sweetheart?” another voice asks.

You look to your side and he’s there, he’s back, stone-faced and radiating what you would call actual bloodlust. You nod, giving him a look that you hope Sunghoon interprets as get him the fuck away from me.

“You heard her. You’re bothering the lady,” Sunghoon says flatly to the man beside you, in such a manner that leaves no room for argument. “And not just any lady, either. That’s my girl you’re bothering. Get lost.”

You yourself shiver at his tone. You’ve gotten used to seeing the icy but gentle side of him, so this shift startles you, making goosebumps raise on your back in fear and your core clench in need. You decide not to correct Sunghoon, either. The sooner you get out of this bust of a club, the better.

An hour later, you find yourself at one of your favorite restaurants, a little barbecue spot near your apartment building that serves the best marinated galbi you’ve ever had. You’ve taken the boys there countless times, enough for them to make a joke out of it. The place is supposed to be closed right now, on account of it being one-thirty in the morning but when you were in the taxi with Jay and Sunghoon, you overheard the latter on the phone, telling the other person on the line that he’d pay triple to have the place opened for three hours past closing time of midnight.

While Jungwon talks animatedly about the girl in his class who was at the club and how he somehow managed to get her number, Sunghoon serves you before everyone else, putting the strips of grilled meat on your plate. The other boys groan at him, telling him not to indulge you too much or you’ll get used to it and always expect it, just like you’ve done to them. They don’t really mean it, because you know them well enough that they—just like Sunghoon—don’t ever really do things they don’t want to do, but deep down you still hope he doesn’t take their words seriously.

“What’s so bad about that? Ladies first,” is all he replies to them, and you feel warm inside and it’s not just the double shot of peach soju making its way through your body.

“Okay, me next,” Jaeyun says. He’s still got sweat dripping down his forehead from chasing  tequila-drunk Riki and Jungwon down and dragging them both by the collars of their shirts into another taxi. 

Sunghoon looks at him before passing the tongs to him. “Do it yourself.”

“Jackass.”

This makes your smile widen, giggling to yourself uncontrollably. You take delight in messing with Jaeyun, and seeing the always-stone-faced Sunghoon take part in it brings a certain joy to you that’s both unfamiliar and welcomed. You catch his eye and he sends you a wink, so fast you wouldn’t have caught it if you didn’t have the habit of staring at him when you think he isn’t paying attention to you.

“Dickhead,” Sunghoon shoots back, bushy brows furrowed so cutely that you have the tipsy urge to kiss the peachy skin between them.

“Oh, well, at least if I liked a girl, I’d tell her, so I think that makes you the dickhead and not me.” Jaeyun rolls his eyes and takes a piece of meat out of your bowl, popping it into his mouth and seemingly swallowing it whole.

You frown. “What? Sunghoon likes someone? Is it Jimin? It’s Jimin, isn’t it?”

Jungwon and Riki groan. “Great, another idiot.”

Jay points his chopsticks at your younger brothers. “Shut up and eat your food already.”

“Yes, mother,” they say in unison, digging into their bowls of kimchi fried rice. You look down at your own plate, suddenly losing your appetite. You even consider going outside for a smoke break, but that’s how the boys disappeared at the club a while ago, and it’s too late for you to be going outside alone—at least, that’s what you’re very well aware that they’d argue. Your stomach hurts at the thought of Sunghoon liking another girl, and because you’re you, because you’re almost so self-aware to the point that it could put your therapist out of a job, you know it’s because you want him to like you, and only you.

And it’s not even because you want the same control over him that you have over the likes of San and Hyunjin and Wonbin and whoever else claims to be on your sad excuse of a “roster”. It’s because you like him, and it’s to the point that the only other being who knows this for a fact is your pet cat, because only she wouldn’t accidentally tell him the truth. She’s a cat, for fuck’s sake, a cat you unfortunately named after the girl you think Sunghoon might like.

Maybe the boys have noticed. But you doubt it, because if they did, they would have teased you so mercilessly about it that it would be considered bullying that could be punishable under law. It would be so severe that you’d have no choice but to leave the country if they knew.

What they actually do though, that you’ve picked up on in recent weeks, is their new nasty habit of dropping hints about how you should be with a guy who’s cold to everyone but you. Someone who’s both pragmatic yet thoughtful, someone who always tells the truth but can do so in a way that will spare your feelings because he makes an honest effort to not sound so harsh. Someone who can both protect you and yet also be able to get you to stop when you become… “irrational” was how they put it. Someone you’re attracted to, not just physically, but emotionally, as well.

You’re not stupid, no matter how often you think you are. You know they’re talking about Sunghoon. You know Jungwon and Riki will make plans with you and him and then flake at the last minute so that you two are forced to go out together, alone. They’ve done it enough times that you know it’s bullshit that they have a school assignment due at some random time in the evening. You know Jaeyun will loudly ask Sunghoon what he thinks of a certain girl when he knows you’re within earshot. It pleases you every time Sunghoon flatly replies “What about her? I don’t know her like that.” 

And you most definitely know Jay let Sunghoon take you on out to the racetrack to drive his Lamborghini for a few laps, under the guise that you’ve always wanted to go and Jay finally managed to get a slot booked on a day that he “isn’t able to make it” because of a “meeting”. Who the fuck even works on a Sunday? 

You fixate on this memory for a while. You can truthfully say it was one of the happiest days of your life.

“You’re telling me you’ve never used paddle shifters before?” Sunghoon asked with a lopsided grin, pulling into the paddock of the race track. Your leg bounces in your seat, not out of anxiety like usual, but out of impatience and excitement.

“I drive stick, why the hell would I use paddle shifters? Sorry not all of us drive M Comps,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “V8 bi-turbo headass. Can’t believe you run an automatic transmission.”

“I’m ignoring that. I’ll track it first.”

“What? No way, I’ve known Jay longer!”

“You’re going to drive it like it’s a city bus. I’m going to drive it like I stole it. You can sit there and look pretty first, then you can have a turn.”

“Sunghoon, if you’re just going to stare at me, you’re going to crash us into a wall.”

“Nah, my peripheral vision’s pretty good. Why, you don’t trust me?”

You sighed. You do trust him, that’s what bothers you.

Ultimately, the idea of Sunghoon liking another girl makes you a little… irritated. That’s actually a gross understatement, if you’re being honest. You can feel the dragon’s head of your jealous streak rise up from the ashes where it had once laid dormant, asleep. It wants to breathe fire. It wants to get a rise out of him. It wants to see his reaction.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on whose side you’re on, your best friend knows you too well.

“Y/N, can you pass the salt?” Jaeyun, who is sitting to your left, asks. The salt pot is right next to Riki, who is sitting to your right.

Taking this as your opportunity, you look at him, tilting your head before you say the exact line that, by now, everyone knows that Sunghoon likes to use. “Say please.”

Jaeyun is too intoxicated to fight back, but he knows you well enough even in his inebriated state that he knows exactly what you’re doing. “Please?”

“Okay,” you answer, reaching across Riki’s plate to grab the salt. When you hand it to Jaeyun, his fingers linger on yours way too long to be respectable. There’s nothing there, of course. It just feels normal, no spark, no giddy, lovesick warmth. He’s just being outright obvious.

Picking up on your scheme, Jay chimes in, a malicious glint in his eye that only comes out after you can smell the alcohol on his breath. You see him elbow Jungwon at the end of the table—quite subtly, to his credit. “Ew, what are you two doing? That’s gross, get a room.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes, giving Jay the middle finger. Oh, he’s playing up the dramatics of your ploy to see if Sunghoon cares or not. This is what being friends with him for pretty much your entire life is all about. “Can’t a guy and a girl be best friends? Chill, bro.”

“Guys and girls can’t just be best friends,” Jungwon adds, his mouth full of rice and barbecue. “That’s such a lie. You don’t see me with a girl best friend, because if I had one, I’d be fu—”

Sunghoon’s knee hits the bottom of the table, causing everyone to jump back in surprise. “Sorry, guys.” He looks at you, staring at him wide-eyed. “And lady. Leg cramp.” He gets up from the table and excuses himself to go pay the bill, talking with the older woman who runs the restaurant and who you know is madly in love with him (much to everyone’s amusement).

“Alright, what’s going on here?” Jay asks in a hushed tone, dropping his smirk and leaning forward. “What are we doing to him?”

“Forcing Sunghoon to confess,” Jaeyun answers back, switching to English so only the three of you can understand. 

You look at him quizzically, but you speak to him and Jay in English anyways. “Wait, what? I just wanted to make him jealous, what are you talking about—”

“Alright!” Sunghoon says loudly from behind you. “Time to go.”

Exchanging looks with your best friends, you collect your things from where they rest on the worn leather seats of the booth. “I’m gonna take a walk first,” you say. “Anyone wanna join?”

“Nah,” Jaeyun answers. “I’m beat. Gonna take the little ones home.”

“Whoooo the fuck are y-you… callin’ little,” Riki slurs, slumped over a sleepy Jungwon’s shoulder. You know your brother is in a food-and-alcohol-induced coma, since he says nothing about the drool Riki’s getting all over his unbuttoned shirt. “Fuckin’ Oompa Loompa.”

“Riks,” you sigh, getting up on your tip-toes to push his sweat-soaked hair from his face. “Be nice to your Yunie hyung.”

“S-sorry noona,” he hiccups, putting more of his weight on Jungwon, who yelps. “I’ll be nice.”

You shoot Jaeyun a warning look, telling him not to egg on the poor boy who looks like he might throw up in his sleep later. “You guys gonna be okay going home?”

“Yeah, bro, it’s only like a block away,” Jay interjects, prying Riki off of Jungwon and hoisting him onto his own back. Jaeyun takes your brother in his hold, grimacing at the skin-to-skin contact of Jungwon’s bare chest on his fingers. “Go take your little walk. Text us when you’re back.”

“Yes, mother, I promise.” You can feel Sunghoon looming over you like a skyscraper. Without turning to him, you ask, “Are you coming with me?”

“Well,” he answers, his huffed breath blowing over your head in cigarette smoke. “Obviously. I’m not letting you go alone.”

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter with the same tone, shivering to yourself. The air is surprisingly cold for the beginning of June, and you’re dejectedly starting to regret your outfit.

And of course, like clockwork, Park Sunghoon notices your discomfort and quietly puts his jacket over you for the second time that night.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. He acknowledges you with a soft hum, matching your stride as you cross the empty road to the little park nestled behind the flowering trees.

You continue to walk, trying to think, but it’s difficult to burn off the rest of the alcohol and gain some clarity when the man you’re thinking about is right beside you. You would kill to read his mind. You could just ask him, straight up. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? What’s the worst thing he could say? That he doesn’t have feelings for you? That he sees you as a sister? That he actually does like Jimin like that?

Fuck.

You finally admit to yourself that you do like him. You do like him, you do want him, you do feel those things genuinely and not out of greed, not out of wanting to make him one of your trained dogs, not out of wanting to punish your ex through him. 

You… you fucking like him, and it pisses you off. Him, of all people. Liking Jaeyun seems less complicated than this. You know for a fact that Sunghoon is quite possibly the king of hard-to-get. Kazuha and Yunjin, the race girls from AZ, both made a move on him and ended up fighting over him for nothing (which your own girlfriends clowned on them mercilessly for, while you sat back and watched rather smugly). He didn’t even give them the time of day, let alone his phone number. 

Minjeong, your beloved work wife, wanted to test that theory and when you’d left them during dinner one time to go use the restroom, she tried to flirt with him. She ended up meeting you in the restroom with a smirk, telling you that he’s impossible to break. She’d even asked you if you considered the fact that maybe he likes men.

Intrigued, you’d “innocently” asked Jaeyun and Riki, of all people, to get you the answer. Eager to please, and glad that they had some new bullshit to do, they came back to you after three hours of pestering Sunghoon at the gym during their workout. They’d reported that they annoyed him so bad he left them at the gym, forcing them to take the train back home.

That night, he texted the group chat “Not gay. Waiting for my wife” and nothing else.

A big shock to the rest of you, to say the least. The boys were busy laughing at the first sentence, while you were fixated on the latter half of his text. His wife. What a strong choice of words, you’d thought. But it was a good thing, too, that he knows what he wants. At least one of you does. A wife. That’s more definite than just wishing to feel safe and secure around other people.

“Did you eat well?” Sunghoon pipes up, finally breaking the chilly silence between the two of you.

“I did,” you reply curtly, now doing your best to match his pace. It’s hard. His legs are so long, with equally long strides, but you push yourself in your heels anyways. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Why do you always flirt back?” Sunghoon asks. He sounds like he’s been holding that in for a while.

“What? Are you talking about Jaeyunie?”

He grimaces. “No. I know that was just him being him. I’m talking about the others. That Wonbin guy. San hyung. Hyunjin hyung. Whoever the fuck. Them.”

You stop walking, and so does he. He turns around to face you as you incredulously ask, “So suddenly? Why? Does it matter?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at you. That’s the first time you’ve ever elicited that reaction from him, and it hurts a little. “Yeah, it does. You’re making them think they have a chance with you.”

“Okay, so what?” you say harshly. Really, why does it matter to him? He likes Jimin, doesn’t he? Why is what you do any of his business?

“Well, do they?”

“No!” you snap, hands on your hips. The sound of your voice, echoing through the deserted metal playground, startles the both of you. “None of it is ever serious with them! Men are dogs, anyways!”

“Meow.”

You look at the tall man in disbelief. Under the glow of the lampposts, he looks both sinful and heavenly. Even if he’s pissing you off like never before. Blinking—too shocked to laugh—you ask, “Did you just meow at me, Park Sunghoon?”

“Yeah. Because I’m not a dog, and I’ll prove it to you,” he answers, thick arms crossed over his broad, sturdy chest.

“Why bother doing that? Why does my opinion of you matter to you? It’s none of your business what I think. So why?”

He scoffs. But he can’t seem to meet your eyes. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

Oh, you’re so annoyed. Why now, of all times, can he not be direct with you? Or is this how he actually is? Has he been pretending to be genuine this whole time? No, that can’t be. People usually can’t keep a facade up for that long without slipping up in between, unless they're sociopaths, serial killers, or both. “No, tell me why. I want to hear it from you. You and your stupid… your stupid… stupid, pretty mouth.”

“Did you just call my mouth pretty?”

“Answer the question, Park Sunghoon!”

He glares at you, but it’s not menacing. After what seems like hours, he sighs, turning away. Then he quietly says, “I love the way you love.”

You realize now that the entire time you’ve been watching Sunghoon, he’s been watching you, too.

“What… what do you mean?”

“The way you care about them. The others… The way you look out for them. For Jungwonie and Riki, always making sure they’ve eaten and they rest enough for school, and that they’re on top of their studies. Jay, you always scold him for working too much. And Jaeyunie, you get worried when he’s not home by a certain time… I realize now that you might not have space in your heart for me. And I should accept that no matter what I do, I’ll always just be another one of your dogs.”

“Sunghoon, what—”

He shakes his head, which hangs low in something you think must be shame. His bangs cover his eyes, so you can’t get a read on him unless you brush them out of his face. And with what he’s just said, you don’t think that now is the best time to touch him. “No. We’re not going to talk about this tonight. Or ever again. I can promise you that. Now come on. I’ll walk you home and we can pretend like this never happened.”

Back in your apartment, you lay in bed, wishing that there was still enough alcohol in your system to put your restless mind to sleep. But there isn’t, not after you walked it all off with an awkwardly silent Sunghoon escorting you back to your apartment. You’d offered your couch for him to sleep on—not out of pity, you’d told him. Out of worry. The trains had stopped running and there were no taxis coming to your side of town anytime soon.

He looked like he really wanted to stay. But for whatever reason, he shook his head at you again, told you it was okay, and said he’d walk home.

You’d texted him to keep you updated on where he was. He didn’t reply. You just got a single notification that “Park Sunghoon has started sharing locations with you,” and that was that. No actual message from him. You share yours right back, telling yourself that it’s fine, all the other Enigma boys had your location, too. But you know the truth.

Sitting up, you reach for your phone and your purse, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, both of which you’d stolen from Jaeyun. He would steal them back from you very soon, anyways, what with him sharing one singular, pitiful peach blueberry ice-flavored vape between himself, Jungwon, and Riki.

Your cat follows you curiously as you walk into the living room and slide the glass door to the balcony open. She curls up in your lap when you sit down on the rocking chair, just as she always does when you come out to smoke.

“You know this is bad for you, right?” you joke quietly, scratching her head with the hand not holding a cigarette. “You should be inside, breathing the purified air I pay good money for.”

Mrrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I should stop. But you should be proud of me. I don’t even do it that often.” That’s actually the truth. You and the boys all say that drunk cigarettes don’t count, and you can’t call yourself a smoker if you only go through one pack every two weeks at the very least. By Seoul nightlife standards, your lungs are healthy. “You can hiss about it to your Jaeyunie-oppa.”

Meow.

“Okay, Jiji. Whatever you say.” You take a long drag before pulling away, flicking the ash onto the ceramic tray that Riki brought back for you as a souvenir the last time he went home to Japan. “Fuck, I really do like him. Sunghoon. Not Yunie, ew.”

Mah?

“Because… because… I just do. He’s so… he’s so not like… you know. Heeseung.”

Your cat stiffens on your lap at the mention of your ex’s name. You laugh to yourself, knowing that there’s no one in this world she despises more than him.

“He’s not… he actually cares about me. He doesn’t have to tell me; I don’t even have to ask him if he does. I see it now. And it’s different from how he cares about the boys. I know it’s not just because I’m the only girl. I’ve seen the way he treats other girls. So… he probably doesn’t like Jimin, huh?”

Jiji perks up at the mention of her full government name, but then looks at you as if to say, are you fucking stupid?

“Yeah, I am, haven’t you noticed? I talk to you all the fucking time.”

Aaow.

“No, I don’t just like him because I get preferential treatment. I just—he never does anything to stress me out. I know he considers my feelings, I mean, fuck, he always tells Jaeyunie and Jungwonie to stop making fun of me when we’re hanging out, and, like, he’s always doing shit for me without me having to ask him or even hint at it. He just… he does it because he wants to? And being around him makes me calm. And he’s strong. And he’s kind, and he doesn’t brag about all the nice fucking things he does for everyone, for me… And… and…”

You lose your momentum as your face begins to sting, tears welling up in your eyes. You can hear the pain in Sunghoon’s voice when he said he’d “always just be one of your dogs” echoing in your head. 

“And he doesn’t lie.”

Lying is something you’ve always had a hard time stomaching. As a child, you were taught that it was better to tell the truth and be punished once than to get caught in a lie and get punished twice. You don’t feel good when you lie. Not even when they’re little white lies, like the one you told Hyunjin about Jungwon being sick when you’d flaked on your date with him.

So when you’d found out that Kim Sunoo, Jungwon’s best friend since literal birth, had been helping Heeseung hide his secret relationship with Sunoo’s own cousin, Chaewon—and had been accepting money from Heeseung to help him keep that secret—you lost your fucking mind.

You’d been through everything with your boyfriend. You abandoned your family for him. You moved to a new city with him. You slept on the floor of a shitty apartment for months with him, while Jungwon was stuck in the dorms of his university with three other roommates. You took home leftovers from the restaurant you worked at all throughout college to feed yourself and your brother.

All of that which you endured, just to find out that everything was a lie.

Heeseung didn’t love you as much as he said he did. Because if he did, he would never have gone behind your back with someone else for months and had the nerve to kiss you with the same mouth he used to lie to you.

Sunghoon doesn’t lie, you tell yourself.

He’s not him, he’s not him, he’s not him.

And it’s a good thing. It’s a very good thing.

Sunghoon, for as long as you’ve known him, always keeps his promises. But you also hope that he breaks that last promise he made to you.

You don’t make any appearance at the next race, which is a week later. You purposefully ignore the group chat when they ask you where you are, if you’re coming to watch Riki beat Shotaro and get his revenge for the last time they’d raced against each other.

They get the message—or lack thereof—loud and clear, and leave you alone. You’re grateful that they don’t pry, although Jaeyun texts you separately to scold you about “making Hoonie sad”. You reply to him with the middle finger emoji, even though you know he’s right. For once, at least.

You get texts from Jimin, Soyeon, and Aeri in the racer girls’ group chat, all of them pouting about how you’re not going to see Jimin and Soyeon race against each other in their newly-modified cars. You apologize and wire Aeri a million Won, telling her to place a bet on your behalf for Riki to win in his race. You stop replying when Jimin and Soyeon get on your ass for not being able to choose between who between the two of them would win.

Minjeong had said something to you at work a couple days ago that made your stomach not be able to stop hurting since. Because she’s the most neutral-territory friend you have, you told her exactly what happened between you and Sunghoon, not sparing any detail—not even the thing he’d said to you that made you feel like a monster.

“You can’t build a new house with the bricks from the last one and expect it to be different.”

She’d said it so casually, like she’d read it off the subject line off the first email in her inbox, but it struck you so hard, hammering in what Jay told you the first night you met Sunghoon. To stop taking out your pain on every man that tried to come your way after Heeseung.

In your defense, again, it wasn’t like they were truly serious about you, anyways. Except Sunghoon, who refused to play your games and refused to flirt back with you whenever you’d try to make a pass at him.

It was your automatic distrust of him that brought you here, sulking at home, feeling helpless beyond your control. What made it worse was that Sunghoon definitely knew why you are the way you are, what with Jaeyun’s big fat ginormous mouth being unable to stop itself from spilling all the gory details of your past to him before you two had even met.

There’s a knock at your door. You find that odd; everyone should be out on the road right about now. You check your friends’ locations on your phone to see who could possibly be in your building right now.

You see Sunghoon’s contact photo right above the glowing blue dot that signifies where you are.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Y/N?” he calls out, muffled by the thick wood of your front door. You turn to Jji, who is looking at you curiously.

“Go, bedroom.”

Obediently, your cat runs to your room, and you can tell she uses her back legs to kick it shut behind her by the way it closes softly. It’s a trick that Jungwon and Riki spent an entire week of their summer vacation last year teaching her to do, and this is the first time it’s ever been useful.

You check yourself in the mirror in the entryway to make sure you look at least somewhat presentable. You’re wearing Aeri’s light pink sweatpants and a massive white t-shirt you’re pretty sure Riki left in your car once and completely forgot about. You shrug. It’ll have to do.

You open the door. Your voice comes out harsher than you intend it to. “What are you doing here, Sunghoon?”

The man flinches almost imperceptably, but the glimpse of it still has your heart twisting in your chest. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s not a question of if I hurt you or not with what I said, because I know I did.”

You purse your lips, trying to process the fact that he’s apologizing to you without you having to prompt him for it. “Oh…”

He continues shakily. “I realized that I didn’t tell you the truth. The full truth. I like you, I really do. Like, not just as a friend, you know. I like you like… that. Fuck, sorry, I’ve never had to do this before.”

You smile at him softly, looking up at him. The light in the hallway illuminates the crown of his head like a halo, making him look more ethereal than he usually is. “Never?”

“Yeah, never. It’s usually the other way around, but I caved this time.” He sighs. “You’re a special girl. You don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

You shrug. “Oh, I think I have some idea.”

“Meaning?”

“I thawed you out, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you really did. So—”

“Just come in,” you say, stepping aside to make room for him. “Sorry, I don’t have anything to offer you besides water or strawberry milk, but we can go raid Jay’s fridge. I have a key.”

He laughs. “That’s okay. I can order takeout for us.”

“What’s behind your back?”

He holds up a bundle wrapped in clean white paper. “I brought these for you. They’re not, um… they’re not really ‘I’m sorry’ flowers so much as they are ‘will you go out on a date with me?’ flowers.”

“Roses,” you muse, taking the bouquet from him. The arrangement is simple yet stunning, with various shades of muted pink that you realize are quite similar to the color of your Supra. “How original.” You pause, your voice softening. “But thank you, though, really. They’re beautiful.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I wanted to get you lilies, but I learned that they’re toxic to cats.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He’s so considerate, he even thought of that. Is there anything that he doesn’t think about? Is this what he does when he zones out? “Who told you that I have a cat?”

“You mentioned it a few times,” he answers softly, like he’s reminding you to breathe. “Like that one time Riki made us take him to the arcade and spent too much money trying to win the stuffed… whatever that was from the claw machine.”

“Hm. I did, huh?”

“Yeah... So can I see it?”

“My cat? That’s a little forward, don’t you think? Aren’t we moving too fast?”

“Your pet cat, you brat.” His grin is wide, though, as he looks down at you adoringly. 

“Oh! Oh, yeah, duh.” You take your phone out and swipe through your camera roll until you come across a picture of your white ragdoll cat, her pretty blue eyes staring at you much in the same manner that Sunghoon is right now. “This is her. Her name’s Jimin… erm, yeah, like the one we know… but I call her Jiji.”

“She’s cute… she kinda looks like you, hm? Is she not here right now?” he asks, scanning your living room. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, I sent her to my room before I answered the door—she doesn’t really like guys except for Wonie and Riki but I think it’s because she thinks they’re her servants. And, uh, also, I don't know if you're okay with cats.”

“Ah. I like cats, don’t worry. I’d love to meet her if that’s okay with you.”

“She might scratch you, though. Just a warning.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. You’d bandage me up, though, right?” When he smiles at you reassuringly, your heart thrums. You don't hear any innuendo in his voice, nothing that suggests that he expects something more from you. Turning away to hide your blushing face, you mumble a “yes” and make a beeline to your room to retrieve Jiji.

You get to the door and open it. She’s standing right in front of you, looking at you expectantly, as if she's asking you where Sunghoon is. 

“In the living room,” you answer. You’re talking to your fucking cat. What’s new? Jiji struts right past you, her tail flicking against your ankles, and trots to the living room. 

You follow her from a distance and watch as she pauses in front of Sunghoon, who extends a hand down for her to sniff at. 

“Hello, Jiji,” he says softly. “Nice to meet you.”

The cat chirps at him, and your eyes widen. Usually, she greets males (mostly your ex and his friend) other than your boys with something akin to a hiss that sounds like slicing someone’s tires open. Sometimes she swats at them, claws out and everything. But she hesitates for a second before butting her little head into Sunghoon’s palm, eyes closed and purring up a storm much like the way she does when she wants you to give her a treat. 

“Wow,” you remark. “She likes you. A lot.”

Sunghoon hums in agreement before saying, “Yeah. Wonder what her mommy thinks of me, though. And if she’ll go on a date with me.”

You blush yet again. He’s certainly dialing up the charm tonight. Mustering up the courage to flirt back, you reply, “I think… yeah, her mommy likes you too. And I think she will go out with you.”

“Mm.” He pets Jiji’s head, scratching between her ears which prompts your cat to roll over and expose her soft belly to him for him to rub. Whore, you think to yourself, as if you wouldn’t have done the same thing. “That’s good. I’m glad. Actually—scratch that. I’m relieved.”

By now you’re very well-acquainted to the way he speaks, straight to the point without very much embellishing in his sentences. At least it’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking. He doesn’t talk with the intent to deceive or play games, and, quite frankly, you adore that about him.

“I don’t just want you to care about me. I want you to let me care about you,” he says suddenly, looking up at you with round, sparkling eyes. He’s being forthcoming and earnest. Enthusiasm suits him well, you think. It makes his face look younger, softer, happier. “I want to earn your trust. I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I already do, though,” you reply, voice quiet as if you don’t want to jinx it somehow.

He gives you a nod of acknowledgement. “I know. But I want to be the one you come to for everything. For anything at all.”

“But—”

“You’d never be a burden to me,” he adds. “You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

There’s still enough time for you to go watch the final event of tonight’s race, the showdown between Riki and Shotaro. You hurriedly fix your hair and throw on a jacket, not caring about how your outfit looks because, frankly, you’re not interested in showing off tonight. You know for certain now that the only person whose attention you’ve wanted has been yours all along.

When you arrive, you can see that the Enigma boys are all circled around what you assume is Riki’s GT-R, only because you can see the underglow bouncing off everyone’s shoes. Leave it to your youngest to be annoying as usual.

You get out of Sunghoon’s car and head over to them, him following closely behind you. You pinch Jaeyun’s forearm and he immediately steps to the side to let you through so you can see what’s going on.

The engine hood is up, and you can see someone’s legs sticking out from under the car.

“What’s going on?” you ask no one in particular.

“Well… Riki fucking forgot to change his oil today, and the jack broke halfway, so none of us can fit under there… except Ning,” Jungwon answers.

“Ning?” you repeat.

“Yeah. The girl I’ve been seeing…” he mumbles. “You know, the one from school.”

Your heart drops at the idea that you’ve been so caught up in your own angst that you haven’t bothered to keep up with anyone else’s life, especially your own brother’s. “Oh. I see. She knows cars, huh?”

“Well,” Riki shrugs. “I guess. Jungwonie-hyung gave her the worst instructions on how to change this shitbox’s oil, and she’s doing it just fine, so she must be smart.”

Before Jungwon can even reach Riki, Sunghoon grabs him by the collar of his shirt, holding him back. “Chill out, bro.”

Jungwon glares at the taller man. “Hey, just because my sister thinks you’re hot doesn’t mean—”

“Good lord,” Jay groans. “Can we please have five minutes of peace so I can start this race? I want to go home already. I can feel my bed calling me.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon snickers. “It’s calling you to wash the damn sheets, you slob.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. Shaking your head, you approach Ning, who’s just rolled out from underneath the GT-R.

“Surprised you didn’t go blind in there,” you say, helping her up. “Riki’s lights are no joke.”

She smiles at you, shaking her head. “Actually, it helped, I could barely see anything down there, it was all covered in brake dust.”

This makes everyone burst out into laughter, mocking Riki for poorly maintaining his car. You roll your eyes, taking the wrench from Ning. You turn to Sunghoon.

“Hoon, can you help me with this? I think we’re gonna need more than an oil change to win tonight.”

“Hey!” Riki exclaims. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Language, young man,” you snap back at him before looking at Sunghoon. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Headlight air intake?” he asks, a smile forming on his plush lips.

You grin. “Headlight air intake.”

“Oh, you guys are officially fucking crazy,” Jay whistles, admiring your handiwork when you’re done. With Sunghoon’s help, you’d removed one of Riki’s precious LED headlights to allow more airflow into the engine, enabling him to push the car harder without fear of overheating. “Poor Taro isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

“This is legitimately worse than the time Y/N Viper-swapped her Supra,” Jaeyun giggles, clapping his hands together in glee. “Ooh, everyone’s so fucked. They’re lucky she doesn’t drive with a missing headlight, too.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Sunghoon jokes. “She can barely see at night as it is.”

“Oh,” you flirt back, “Is that why I think you’re more handsome in the daytime?”

Riki and Jungwon fake gagging noises behind you, but you smile.

“We’re making it out of the hood tonight, boys!” Riki hollers from his position at the finish line. Jungwon is beside him, at the wheel of his 350z. To Jungwon’s other side is Shotaro, looking annoyed. You can see him glare a hole into the back of Riki’s head as he walks behind your brother and his friend.

“Since when was Itaewon considered the hood?” you call back at him. Everyone laughs.

You see Jaeyun whisper something into Jimin’s ear, and she giggles. Meanwhile, Jay, awkward as he can be sometimes, plants a kiss on Aeri’s forehead. “Is it fucking cuffing season or something?” you mutter under your breath, thinking it was low enough that no one hears your annoyance.

“Us next,” Sunghoon responds cooly from behind you, draping an arm over your shoulder. “How’s that sound?”

“Holy shit,” Riki gasps, dramatically putting a hand over his mouth. “Sunghoon-hyung’s—”

“Got some serious rizz,” Jungwon finishes. “And if it weren’t directed towards noona, I’d cheer him on.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Won, you act like you haven’t wanted them together since you first met him.”

Jungwon pouts cutely and shrugs. “Yeah, yeah. It’s more fun to pretend to be an opp, though.”

You glare at your brother. “Wanna see a real opp? I’ll tell Ning that you like to—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He turns to Sunghoon. “Hyung, did you know that noona sometimes drools in her sleep?”

“I do.”

“WHAT?” the boys chorus like they’re in a cartoon.

Sunghoon looks at them with pure curiosity. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I know? She fell asleep and drooled all over my arm when we watched Interstellar for the fifth time.”

“Sunghoon!” you squeal. “You’re not supposed to tell them that happened!”

“Wait, fifth?” Jaeyun asks, hands sassily placed on his hips. “We’ve only watched it four times.”

You and Sunghoon exchange a look, your face heating up. “Well, uh…”

“Nevermind that,” Jay interrupts, his arm around Aeri’s waist. “We know you two hang out without us. Jaeyunie’s just fucking with you.”

“Yeah,” Riki agrees. “In fact, we want you guys to hang out without us.”

You look at Ning, rolling your eyes. “See what you’re getting into?”

She gives you a warm smile. “I don’t mind.”

park sunghoon: We’re still on for our date tonight, yes?

you: yeah! what are we doing?? i can pick a spot if you don’t have anything in mind

park sunghoon: None of that from you, princess. Just be ready by 7, I’ll pick you up. Our reservation is at 7:30. I already made sure you’d like the restaurant and you can wear that black dress you bought last week.

… Princess?

you: how…?

park sunghoon: Well, I know what food you like because we’ve gone out to eat so many times. And also, I saw you post the dress on your story when you tried it on in the fitting room, so I figured you got it. 

park sunghoon: Before you get upset thinking I’m controlling what you wear, I’m not. I know you have a hard time choosing your outfits (even though they’re all very nice) and the dress looked lovely on you.

He’s trying to make your life easier. You smile to yourself, face going hot. You bite your knuckles to keep yourself from screaming at your desk.

you: oh… okay!

you: i’ll see you later hoon :)

park sunghoon: Can’t wait. Have a great day at work, beautiful.

God, you want to throw your phone across the office with how giddy you are. You finish work early by skipping your lunch break, and you go home at 2:30 in the afternoon, thanks to Minjeong excitedly whisper-yelling at you that she’ll cover for you and to “Go get some dick, girl!” and smacking your ass as you scurried to the elevator. When you arrive home, you immediately run to your bathroom and turn on the shower. You’ve got music blasting from your speaker while you wash your hair and shave and scrub down your entire body. You’re smiling at yourself in the mirror while you dry your hair and do your skincare routine, and you’ve still got a good four hours to get all dressed up for your first real, official date in years.

taglist: @enha-stars @karinasbaby @venomhee @lilifiedeans @sngleehee @hoonfr @seuomo @en-verse @starfallia @eloelooo @lhspeachie @idkdykilr @seochannnn @moon368 @capri-cuntz @p-d1ddy @xxbluestrifexx @p4ranormaluv @laurradoesloveu

[awordsmith]

mosaic broken hearts 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which Spencer comforts you after the romance novel you've just read makes you cry uncontrollably.

katvalentine

who? spencer reid x known!reader when? s5 category: fluff (comfort) content warnings: erm, a little depresso espresso spence in the flashback, nothing noteworthy honestly, read with warmth!! word count: 8.9k a/n: i've known i've wanted to write a story with this title for months now–please enjoy!!

Blue. 

Yellow. 

White.

You scanned the sky once more before heading into the building towering over you. You could hear chatter from the inside, birds chirped and flew around the nearby trees. It was warm for February, but you weren’t complaining.

Spencer practically skipped behind you. This was the first time you were going to the bookstore together after multiple instances of him being called away–and that one time when your job had called you with an emergency. You weren’t really sure what Spencer did; you knew he worked for the government, but that was about it. He had never shared more than that and you had never pressed him.

You were neighbors and perhaps even friends, but with this type of friendship came a boundary, to be sure you had your suspicions, perhaps he was a computer tech and his hating technology was all an act. You never thought much more about it because that would hurt your brain, and you’d inevitably feel guilty.

“Do you want to break off?” You asked, watching him pick up a blue basket.

“Why?” His eyebrows furrowed. It was the cutest look you’d ever seen. It sent fluttering throughout your stomach.

You shrugged sheepishly, “Well, we do have pretty different tastes.”

“Yeah, but wasn’t the whole point of coming together to hang out?”

You flushed and turned away, “Yep! Sorry, never mind, ignore me,” you shook your head, “What section do you want to look at first?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

You huffed and threw him a look, raising both brows because you didn’t know how to raise only one, it was a skill you had yet to develop. “I’m sure, come on what’s electrifying that smile?” You reached over and poked his cheek. He laughed into it and held up a hand, running a finger along where you had just touched him. Spencer hated touch, but he found yours endearing. When you first met, you hadn’t tried shaking his hand, it was odd, but refreshing. He didn’t come off as a jerk or have to explain himself.

You never attempted to touch him afterward either, it was one of the things that drew him in, you later admitted on a balcony conversation one late, summer night, that it was because you didn’t like being touched. Not unless you initiated it. And therefore, you applied this to everyone else, unless they told you they were okay with you touching them, you just wouldn’t.

He’d never thought about it that way, about initiating touch, he wondered if it’d make a difference, and so, that same night, he’d told you he was alright with you touching him now and then and asked to shake your hand. It wouldn’t have seemed like he was initiating to an outside point of view, but to Spencer and anyone who knew him–which wasn’t many–it was clear who was giving whom permission–or maybe, he’d countered his own thought, you both were giving the other permission.

The memory slipped from his mind now as you led him down the nonfiction aisle. You weren’t really looking for anything in particular, just hoping that some things jumped out at you. Well, you knew you weren’t going to find anything for yourself down here, so you took to watching Spencer’s reactions.

He made quite a few, some had you giggling, and others had you questioning his morals. Eventually, he had one psychology hardcover and one astronomy paperback, the ladder made you pause. You’d never taken him to be interested in stars–he’d just never shown any unique curiosity toward them, more of the philosophical type, yeah, that fit him far better.

You shook your head, perhaps you didn’t know your nerdy neighbor as well as you thought you did. You turned down a few other aisles, but no other books were added. Spencer felt okay moving to the other side of the shop, where all your genres were.

You scoured up and down when a lighthearted romance cover caught your eye, you read over the synopsis with Spencer and he approved of it. Sliding it into the basket around his arm, you continued walking, throwing glances now and then around the store. The sun was lighting up the store through the windows. The light gave the shop an unreal kind of ambiance. You meant to continue searching, but your stomach interrupted made you pause, it was growling.

You eyed Spencer, daring him to laugh, but he kept a straight face, staring straight at the wall of books behind you. It was taking a toll on him, you could tell, so you gave in easier than you normally would have, “What should we eat?”

You floated through the front of the bookstore, you hadn’t spent more than an hour and a half inside, so you knew the day was still young, though you kept glancing at his cell phone in the back of his pocket, knowing he’d probably be called off to work at any moment. You didn’t want him to go, you wanted to keep him just a bit longer. His work always seemed to have him and if he wasn’t at work, he was with his mother, which you didn’t mind, but life just moved so fast. You were lucky you were even able to form the relationship you have with him now. 

It hurt you just thinking about it, you tried to push it from your mind, tried to soak up his presence as much as you could, because no matter how great it was now, you knew him leaving was inevitable, and you’d began to be okay with that because he always came back. Some days, you wished you were more to him, maybe then he’d tell you what exactly it was he did.

Spencer noted your frown and poked your cheek, you jolted, but seconds later a bashful smile fell onto your face. Spencer loved your smile, he always meant to tell you that, but whenever he caught you smiling, the thought was lost in him trying to savor the moment.

“I’m not sure,” he found himself saying. He dropped a hand to your back, gently guiding you outside. You didn’t tense, you never tensed when he touched you and he loved that because it meant you were comfortable around him, and your comfort was always his top priority when he was with you. He wasn’t with you a lot, you were just his neighbor after all. Any time he got with you…it was precious to him, whether you knew it or not.

Spencer took you home after eating. He’d gotten a call as you knew he would have. You weren’t mad, you didn’t have the right to be. You were only friends and as you parted ways, you were reminded that there was a time when you were just neighbors.

You recalled the first time you spoke to Spencer, it’d happened when he’d first moved in. He’d fallen walking up the stairs, you had just gotten home from a late shift, the wind outside hadn’t been kind and your hair was all tangled. You hated having to deal with it sometimes. 

You’d walked halfway down the left side of the hall, there were 8 rooms on your floor. When you stepped out of the elevator, you were in the middle of the hall, typically you’d turn left, you live in the middle of the four rooms on your side, and the middle right door was yours.

You knew there were stairs to the end, you’d discovered them the first few days after your arrival. They were there, but no one ever used them. An old man lived closest to them, the last door on the left, the room next to it was vacant, and then there was your room, and a woman and her daughter lived in the next apartment over.

You’d held your keys out, rubbing your eyes enough to see through the dark. You’d heard a groan, then toppling followed by crashing. Though you had been half asleep, you knew you were hearing more than your imagination could create at that moment. You’d huffed a sigh, forced yourself to spin around, and headed toward the staircase at the end of the hall.

Upon opening a look downward, you found a young Spencer sprawled out on the floor, a few boxes below him. You had still been in uni at that time and you had a class that very next morning, but you thought if it were you, you would want someone to help. So, putting aside your tiredness, you’d called out, “Do you want some help?”

You had held your breath, a part of you hoping he would say “no” and that he “has it”, but Spencer hadn’t let his team help him, he’d been too prideful, and look where that got me, he’d thought, on the verge of tears, exasperated, he’d begged, “please.” 

You wouldn’t know it until a year or maybe even just a few months later, but you would forever be grateful for your fateful first encounter on the stairs. The weirdo in the stairwell became the nerd next door, eventually, he would be upgraded to just Spencer.

You unlocked your door and waved goodnight to him, promising to binge-read the book and let him borrow it afterward. Spencer was a logical person, he loved factual and educational books, but he had a soft spot for soppy romance, though you had only gotten that information a year and a half into your neighbourship.

He was incredibly secretive despite how he initially presented himself, it was a skill, oh to be sure. You knew you were an open book, at least in your own mind, Spencer didn’t think so. He found your actions and words completely unpredictable. It was exhilarating. He found everything about you exhilarating, the little snicker you did when you were teasing him, the way your eyes crinkled when your smile reached its apex. That was the only thing predictable, he knew he could always count on that smile. 

He didn’t speak about you much to his coworkers, they knew there was someone, but they didn’t know it was you. Morgan had even suggested you must have been a guy at one point, Penelope was more lenient by claiming you were a new pet or plant; Spencer didn’t care what conspiracies they’d come up with because he knew you were you, and this way he could keep you all to himself, at least for a little while longer.

“Good night,” he murmured as your door completely shut. He was hoping to be in bed by the morning, or at least be home by then, he frowned, knowing he likely wouldn’t see you for a few more days. But, this was the job he chose, and he loved it.

Did he love it more than you, though? That was a figment he shoved away, he shouldn’t be asking himself that, he shouldn’t even have let it slip by. Spencer never wanted to make you uncomfortable, you were the first person he’d ever met who seemed more cautious about things like that than he was. He’d never been on this end, the one scared to do something.

He supposed he could be a bit more understanding to the team, but unlike them–he didn’t mind it. He always wanted to look out for you, as you seemed to always look out for him, from even before you knew his name.

He grinned, and as the memory rushed through him, he unlocked his door.

You set out a coffee cup for him, every day–though you knew the odds of him stopping by to drink it were less than great. On those days, you were quieter, especially because you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it.

You pulled out two mugs every morning like clockwork, almost like you hoped it would summon him. You knew it wouldn’t, you weren’t that dumb, but it was the hope that would get to you, and the fear that the one day you didn’t pull out a mug for him, he’d show up and be disappointed. Something like that would happen to you, you just knew it–and even when you knew for a fact he wouldn’t have time to stop by–when you knew he was out on a job or sleeping in and definitely wouldn’t magically appear in your doorway, you set out a cup for him still.

This was what you did this morning: you had coffee waiting for him, though you were skeptical of him showing up. You pulled open the curtains to your balcony, letting whatever sunlight warm your kitchen. You played jazz music, though you kept it quiet, just in case Spencer or anyone else were still asleep, you brought the cups over to the table that sat near the window.

A knock sounded on the door and it broke your trance, you stood, almost knocking over the mug in front of you. You caught it and stabled it before any real damage could be done. Spencer cleared his throat on the other side of the door and your heart squeezed. You felt sick and giddy at the same time. 

You raced for the door, smoothing out your hair before opening it, hoping your heart wouldn’t beat out of your chest. You had no–okay yes, you knew why, but you couldn’t just openly say or do anything about it. There were a lot of reasons as to why you couldn’t, reasons to which you did not want to get into right before opening the door to the problem on the other side.

“Hey, I thought you’d be awake,” Spencer smiled, a few bottom teeth poking out. 

Your heart swelled, in your chest, “you’re back,” as if that wasn’t obvious, you internally groaned.

Spencer sniffed the air and looked over you, which wasn’t that difficult, “you making coffee?” It was his go-to line whenever he opened the door. You though, he must know by now, at least a little. 

“Just finished brewing,” you smiled, letting him in.

He stretched and you couldn’t help but notice the straining. Was he hurt? If so, how? His job? But Spencer couldn’t possibly–you had the thought, but you knew it was crazy. Spencer wasn’t the type to carry a gun, if he was you’d know about it, right? In two years of friendship, he would have most definitely let something slip. You shook the thought from your mind and shut the door behind him.

When you turned around, Spencer was carrying his mug around your living room, noting your new bookshelf. He ran his hand along the spines, smiling when he caught one that you assumed had intrigued him, “this is mine,” he pulled it from its place and walked back over to your small round table. Your eyes widened, how could you have forgotten?

Who were you kidding–it was doomed from the start, why would you have even moved it out of your private library? You should have kept it under your pillow or mattress, not flaunt it around your living room. Of course he would have noticed it sooner or later! You just hoped he wasn’t mad.

You sat back down, the sunlight hitting the back of your neck as you watched Spencer read over the synopsis on the back. It was a dainty paperback, old and dirty, the spine was ripped and barely hanging on–it contrasted heavily with the other books you had it sitting next to. It was red, but the red had faded a lot, “I thought I threw this out.”

He set his coffee cup on the table and peeled it open, “you said it was your mom’s,” you sipped at your coffee, still embarrassed that he had noticed it. How could it have just slipped your mind?

“Yeah,” Spencer bit back a smile as his eyes trailed over the pages. You’d told him multiple times how jealous you were to have such a gift. Though, if you could read and enjoy a story as fast as he could, you’d probably be broke and homeless, probably living in a house made of books, although–you considered–that didn’t sound half bad.

“She loved this, it was one of her favorites, and she’d read it to me–’

“–when you were a kid.” You nodded, though you probably shouldn’t have said that. Now he’d think you memorize every conversation you have with him. “I mean, you said you were throwing it out because she’d gotten a new one, signed by the author this time, I just didn’t, I don’t know I thought you were being brash.” You avoided his gaze, and Spencer didn’t know why.

His heart swelled with the thought of you being so considerate, he didn’t know how else to describe how he was feeling other than utter adoration. His words caught in his throat and he had to set the book down to recollect himself, “Thank you…” he glanced at you, his palms were now sweaty, he ran them along his pants, trying to dry them somewhat, “...have you read it?”

Have I read it? You scoffed mentally. You’ve read that book more than any other book you owned. It wasn’t long, but nor was it short. When you took the complexities of the plot and the characters, it became something more than just a book. You’d at first only read it because you thought it might give you some insight into Spencer’s mind. He was a tough cookie, though you weren’t ever good at reading people, Spencer was more difficult than any other person.

“Yeah, a few times,” you admitted, trying to hold his gaze.

“And you like it?” Spencer wanted to hit himself, why would you read it more than once if you didn’t? It was a period romance. Spencer had loved it as a kid, and though most stories gave Spencer a sense of security, he’d always felt specifically drawn to the one in his hands.

When Spencer had thrown it out, he’d been on the phone with his mother, “Oh, yeah, didn’t I tell you?” She’d laughed, “The woman I told you about got me a new one, she had it signed too. Isn’t that great?” Spencer didn’t know why he’d gotten angry, he didn’t know why he’d responded with, “Oh yeah, that’s good, Mom,” even though he’d felt the complete opposite.

When he’d hung up, he had almost cried, but Spencer hadn’t wanted to cry, he’d felt he had done enough of that. He didn’t think crying made a person weak, that was just idiotic, but Spencer did it all the time, at least that’s what it felt like. The team had never said anything, but Spencer hadn’t needed them to. Spencer had been his own antagonist. Until he met you.

He’d gone back to look for the book in the dumpster hours later, but he couldn’t find it. He never knew the book hadn’t even made it outside. You’d found Spencer throwing it out as you had been coming back inside from a shift, you were exhausted, much like that first time you met him. He’d been storming toward the garbage shoot holding a singular item.

You’d stopped him and asked him what he was doing, Spencer hadn’t wanted to be mean that night, he had never been an angry person, and it had been you he was talking to–but he didn’t want to break down in front of you either, so he’d said he was throwing away trash.

But it hadn’t been trash, you’d recognized the paperback gripped in his palm, and you had wondered if–in his tyranny, Spencer had forgotten that he’d told you about it, that he’d shown you that novel before. 

Before you could stop him, he’d opened the shoot and slid the book in, storming back to his room without looking back. You had stood there in shock, wondering what to do–should you follow him? He had seemed pretty angry, you hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but you had also known how rare it was for Spencer to get mad, he had needed a friend, and you’d known he had, but you–your heart had sank as you’d opened the shoot, looking down into emptiness.

It rose again when you noticed the book, as broken as it had been, caught on a nail in the shoot. You’d had to be extra careful, but without injury, you’d retrieved the book and took it back to your house.

When you found the book to be in as good a condition as it had been before the shoot, you headed over to Spencer’s. You didn’t know that after you’d left him after you had gone back to your place, Spencer had gone back out in the hall to search for it, he’d gone to the basement to look through the trash bags, freaking out because he couldn’t find the book–the book he so stupidly threw away for no reason at all.

He’d never told you because he was embarrassed and because of that, he wouldn’t be reunited with the book till’ three months later when he caught it in your apartment living room on accident because you’d bought a new bookshelf and had rearranged your books.

“Spencer–” You jumped out of your seat because you wouldn’t be able to reach his tears across the table. “Hey–are you okay? I hope you’re not angry,” you wiped his tears with the bottom of your sleeve.

He shook his head and pulled your hand down, stopping you, “I’m not, I mean–I am, a little, but not at you.” He calmed himself down, and stood, “Keep it, it’s yours, but promise to let me borrow it.” His voice trembled, just watching him you felt water pool in your eyes.

“You’re going to work now?” You bit your lip, wanting him to stay just a bit longer, maybe you could talk about the book or the reason he decided to throw it away or something mundane, but you knew better, and this wasn’t a romance novel and Spencer had a job and so did you, just…not today.

“I’m reading the book we picked out from the bookstore.” You followed him to the door.

He spun around, his smile almost brighter than the cold sun filtering in through your windows, “really?”

“Yep, I’m gonna binge it!”

“Oh, yeah, you’re off today, keep me updated, I might not respond, but I’ll be reading them.”

“I thought you wanted to read it, I don’t want to spoil it,” you patted him on the shoulder, ignoring the fact that it was just an excuse to touch him.

“I’ll still read it, the details can sometimes be starkly different than the reactions, you’d be surprised.”

“Hmm,” you nodded, a grin brimming at the corners of your mouth, “just like you and your job?”

“Stalking me now, —?” Butterflies did somersaults in your stomach and your chest squeezed, you loved it when he called you by your last name, it felt like he was teasing you in the way the love interest teases the heroine in a teen drama or YA novel.

You shook your head and spat, “In your dreams, Reid.” He stepped outside and waved. You shut the door, leaning back on the kitchen counter, and silently screamed. 

A grin stayed put on your face the entire morning, even as you began the fluffy romance story you wished was your life.

The case Spencer had been called to was relatively simple, of course, no case the team ever took on was simple in how other people associated the term, but if he compared this one to the others over just the past year, it was relatively easy to deduct where and how it would end. It was a serial killer, most likely a white male in his 30s. Spencer sighed as he picked up his coffee from the break room, already heading toward the jet. The day had just begun and he was already over it.

Spencer loved his job, but his mind today was still on this morning’s events. He couldn’t seem to care about anything else. It wasn’t like his mom–where he was worried and couldn’t think–it was more of he didn’t want to think. He didn’t even want to leave your apartment this morning. He didn’t know what it was, but things with you felt different. They had for a while now. Spencer boarded the jet.

Not different in the sense that your relationship had different rules than his and Morgan’s did–they did, but that wasn’t the point he was trying to come to. Spencer huffed and turned to look out the window, he never sat in a seat alone, he always sat with his team, but he didn’t feel like talking much today. 

The team didn’t find it moderately odd for Spencer, any number of things could be making him act in this way–at least that’s what Spencer considered. He didn’t know Morgan had said something to Rossi and JJ. He didn’t know JJ kept glancing at him, hoping whatever he was going through wouldn’t be too bad for him to talk to her.

The thing was, though, Spencer wasn’t sad. He wasn’t angry, either. He was confused. He was trying to ascertain exactly when his feelings for you began shifting and what they had shifted to. He knew they had, he knew they still were. He respected you, and after this morning, he might even say he adored you. But he thought that was weird and didn’t want to say it out loud. Spencer felt like he was in limbo.

He found you in the morning clouds, there was little light, but he thought it looked just how you did this morning. You were going to binge-read that romance from the bookstore, that’s what you had said anyway. He wondered if you were enjoying it, he’d been checking his phone since he left the complex, which he knew was dumb, but he couldn’t help it. Something about his brain–he thought–must be changing, something in the way his mind worked, if Morgan could hear how poetic Spencer’s thoughts were, he’d make fun of him and Spencer would probably let him. They sounded poetic to his own ears, he wasn’t in a Julia Quinn novel and even if he was, Spencer would still think his mind was acting unlike itself.

A text came in from you when Spencer stepped off the jet. His eyes skidded across the single sentence,

I love this.

it read. 

Spencer’s heart fluttered and he felt lighter. He allowed the goofy smile to take over his face as he typed out a response.

I’m glad, what’s going on?

He waited for the three dots to pop up, to indicate you were typing, but they didn’t come. Spencer’s smile dropped and he clicked his phone off, setting it on the table in front of him. He leaned forward on his palm and went back to staring out the window.

He found himself recalling every significant event that had ever occurred between you two, though he wasn’t sure if they left such an imprint on you as they had on him. 

The first time he met you, he was drained. Life was pushing him over the edge, he’d just gotten leave to get over his addiction. He knew he’d had a problem, he knew it wasn’t right to keep it a secret either. He’d decided to move, he needed a change, and his therapist whom he had begun seeing a week prior had encouraged it. It wasn’t hard to find a place with his pay, but Spencer was picky.

His mom was getting worse, and he was attempting to fight his depression, but it felt like he was losing, he didn’t have friends unless you counted his coworkers and Spencer had often tried not to–it had felt like his world had been falling apart, and on top of that he was weak. He couldn’t even carry a box of books up the stairs, to be fair he had been carrying two, but he still felt useless. His thoughts crushed his mind and without his mind, Spencer didn’t know who he was. For the first time in his life, Spencer had been scared of something he had created.

When he’d tripped walking up those damned stairs–it was his last straw. Spencer didn’t want to move, he’d planned to sit there and wallow in self-pity–but then, someone blocked the hall light from his face and an angel appeared–or, more likely–he had assumed–an annoyed neighbor.

But it was you. You in all your tired glory. You and your stank expression and you had asked–“Do you want some help?”

And Spencer knew you wanted him to say no, it had been written all over your body language if not your eyes and unimpressed expression–but Spencer also knew if you had walked away, he would have sat in that stairwell all night and cried. His spirit might have died that night, had you never felt the need to walk over to the staircase. You shouldn’t have, he knew it was dangerous–it had been a common ruse used by kidnappers and rapists to lure their victims into secluded areas with no cameras–it still was and he’d scolded you on that later on, but he would forever be grateful you were too tired or too irritated to care about the dangers you’d put yourself in by walking over to that stairwell and looking down.

“Please,” he hadn’t meant to say it in such a way, he had sounded like he was begging for his life–he hated that. He’d felt like he had done that every day he’d lived. But you changed his perspective–maybe it was along the way of your neighborship turned friendship or maybe it was that very night in the stairwell: the very night you met. 

“Come on kid,” Morgan smacked Spencer’s shoulder and headed toward the exit of the jet.

Spencer’s eyes widened as he realized he’d been reliving the memory for the entirety of the ride. He shook his head, he needed to get it together, he had a job to do.

His phone dinged and he glanced at it, biting the inner corners of his cheeks as a shy smile caressed his face.

Amazing, I’m gonna pause and go buy some real coffee, ttyl <3

Talk to you later!

He sent back, shaking his head at the abbreviation. He’d started using perfect grammar, but later on, he’d gotten tired of the autocorrect on his phone and had just begun typing and sending. Sometimes, though, when he had time, he’d end a sentence with a period, which he had learned to stop doing after multiple times of you spamming him with messages of “Are you mad at me?” and “What did I do?!?!?!?”

You’d taught him quite a bit throughout your neighbourship–paired with Penelope–he’d become quite the technical genius

…okay he wouldn’t go that far.

It was absolute art. A masterpiece formed of words to make poetic literature. Picasso wished he could paint as well as this woman wrote. The characters were well rounded and with each paragraph, you fell deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of fiction. You didn’t notice the hour change. It was no longer morning, but mid-afternoon, and Spencer popped into your head. You wondered what he was doing right now. Every time you thought about him, your heart swelled, you should have been used to it by now, but you weren’t and it was driving you crazier day by friggin day!

It wasn’t a normal feeling. It wasn’t like the crushes you had on the guys during your time in uni–it was more, it just was–and it freaked you out a little because you didn’t know precisely how much it differed and you didn’t want to end up hurt like the girls in tragedy romance. You hated reading those, though you stressed the story you were halfway through was taking a turn for the worst.

You stood and stretched, deciding to take another small break. You threw your coffee cup in the trash and shut the windows you’d opened in the morning. You lit a few candles and cuddled on the couch with a blanket, flipping through a few true crime YouTube channels. Other than reading, you have few other precarious interests, though Spencer never was able to watch any with you, he said they made him sick, which was odd because, well, you thought he him working in the FBI meant he’d be somewhat normalized to cases and such.

Apparently, though, it only made him more squeamish.

Spencer wasn’t normally squeamish, this case wasn’t new to him, he hated those true crime channels — liked it because the storytelling somehow always focussed more on the killer rather than the victims, there were a few he could get by, but with those he’d always ended up pointing out the inaccuracies or what the cops could have or should have done. Seldom things could rile Spencer up, but when he was, he was angry, which is why he simply–stayed away from them.

He never did explicitly say he felt sick watching them, because he didn’t, but did say he preferred not to watch them, instead, he’d given you a list of books and films he thought you might like. The case he was dealing with now irked him–at a glance, it had seemed as simple as any of the others, but he should have known better.

His team wouldn’t have been gifted such a case, he felt a guttural groan deep in his throat, but he held it in. He couldn’t let them know what was going on, he couldn’t let anyone know what was going on, not even his therapist. Only you knew Spencer was still seeing a one, and only you didn’t know the addiction he’d had that was the reason he’d begun going to therapy at all.

He didn’t want to team to look at him any differently simply because he’d continued his sessions long after he didn’t need them anymore, but that was just it. Spencer still felt like he could benefit from therapy. He still felt like his world would come crumbling down at any given moment and he didn’t know why. There were things Spencer knew he couldn’t control, like the fact that he preferred your company like he preferred the company of old books and films. He didn’t know how else to explain it really. Spencer considered himself quite immersed in English literature…and Russian and German and Italian and French, and Spanish–and well–so on, but he never considered himself great at creating, he was better at connecting and understanding.

He supposed you were like a film set in motion, he felt like he was watching you on a drive-in screen and as long as he didn’t reach out, you would continue to play. Yes, this was how he felt–but how could he say any of this? The moment he did the film would end and you’d be out of reach. To say it would end the very specialty he was trying to maintain. Things would go wrong. Things always went wrong for Spencer. He chuckled bitterly, maybe he was cursed. Who knew?

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Spencer sighed, setting a stack of photos in front of Rossi, “these are the pictures recovered in front of the original crime scene back in 99’.”

Rossi sighed and ran a hand down his face, picking up the first photo, “Hey, Reid, you mind getting me a cup of coffee?”

“Sure, Garcia send over the list of names yet?”

“Yep,” Rossi nodded, shrugging over to a stack of yellow envelopes, “had the files brought over for you from the copy room.”

Spencer nodded, “I’ll be right back.” And he did come back, with two cups in hand. He set one down in front of the aged man and brought the other over to the documents he was about to sift through. He picked up the first file when a ping on his phone came through, it was you. His heart squeezed despite his earlier thoughts,

Just finished an hour-long case, getting back to reading now!!

He smiled to himself and typed out a quick reply, Great, let me know what happens! then he hit send and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“You’re so…smiley these days,” Rossi called from across the room, “what’s gotten into you?”

Spencer tried to remain as calm as possible, “oh, nothing,” he chuckled, but it sounded forced and nervous. One would think after this many years in the FBI he’d be able to act a bit better.

“Mm-hmm,” Rossi hummed, but Spencer could hear it, his coworker did not believe him in any form of the definition.

“It’s not like I’m hiding something,” Spencer loosened his tie and tried to refocus on the file in his hand.

“Oh, I bet.” Rossi’s eyes flashed with mirthfulness, “and whomever you’ve been texting this entire trip has absolutely nothing to do with it, I presume?”

“Right.” Spencer nodded, his tone clipped–he cursed himself for being too quick and confident with his response. 

Rossi chuckled and shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee, “don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Spencer took a shuddering breath and wiped his forehead, “it wouldn’t matter, even if you did.” He mumbled under his breath.

It had to be 11 at least, Spencer and his team just ended the case and were halfway home when he got the incoming voice message. It was sent over messages, so it hadn’t been that long ago that you’d sent it. He yawned, grinning when he played it. He didn’t know how loud it would be or that you would be crying in it.

He nearly dropped his phone at the wailing that sounded through the tiny speakers of his cellular device. His heart began racing, he was afraid something had happened to you. The others no doubt heard the message again, and then it broke out, his name, falling from your lips in such an agonizing way.

Spencer’s body shook. He didn’t know if he was angry, but he knew he was scared. “What was that?” Morgan asked right after the message ended. Spencer couldn’t even tell him, as he had no clue himself.

“It was, it’s a message.” His hands trembled and he felt rigid. He swallowed, his hands going white with the strength he held his phone, it was dubious, but he thought the tiny black thing would break in his hand. As he dared to replay the message, there was you crying, sniffling, “...he–he–” could be heard, your voice cracking with the last sound, then another wave of sobs and, “Spe-hen-cerr–come ha-home…” the end was light, but clear enough if you were listening for it. It ended with more sobbing.

“Reid who was that?” JJ’s eyes were wide, Hotch even seemed like he was listening now. “It was ugh–no one,” Spencer was able to force out, but that wasn’t true, not in the slightest.

“That didn’t sound like no one,” Morgan raised a brow. It isn’t. Spencer though. It’s her–it’s —.

Rossi snickered, though he tried to cover it up with a cough. “Dave,” Hotch raised a brow.

Rossi glanced at everyone who was eyeing him, he held up his hands and shook his head, “Don’t look at me.”

“Guys it’s–it’s,” Spencer was hyperventilating now. In an attempt to try to calm himself, he whispered to himself that you weren’t in danger, that something else must have happened. He told himself everything was alright and when he got back home you would be safe and sound, asleep in your bed. He tried calling you just as tears streamed down his cheeks, but he was too high in the air, gosh were these flights always that long?

“Who’s —?”

“What?” Spencer’s eyes widened.

“—, that’s what you said,” JJ frowned, trying to read him, he had a hand running through his hair, a clear sign that he was stressed. A vein nearly threatened to pop out of his neck, his reaction had been so strong and so visceral, that JJ had forgotten what he’d looked like just moments before.

“How long until we land?” Spencer ignored her, and the team exchanged glances. They didn’t know how to proceed, on one hand, Spencer was entitled to his privacy and if he wanted to keep something secret he had every right to. On the other hand, Spencer was more than their coworker, he was a friend–he was family–and they had already once before looked the other way because they thought they had no right.

“Fifteen minutes,” Hotch was the only one to answer. He cared about Spencer, but he trusted the kid, and if he didn’t want anyone in his business, who was he to question it? Though, even as Hotch thought this, a strange feeling tugged at his heartstrings. He tried to strangle them down, but ended up adding, “If it’s serious, let us know.”

Spencer couldn’t wait fifteen minutes, in fifteen minutes you could be dead, you could be kidnapped–or worse–if worse was possible–which it was, but they all fell in the same category to him, all three included you being scared, hurt, and alone, and Spencer–Spencer didn’t know how he’d come back from any of the above. That was just it.

He wouldn’t.

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe what you had just read. The book was lying open in front of you, the ending scene was coming to a close, the climax had just passed and you were reading the final thoughts of the protagonist.

He’d died. He’d really died. You loved him–you’d grown attached to him, how could the author just kill him off like that? In such a brutal way? You’d never forgive her for putting you through it all. You couldn’t stop crying–goodness why couldn’t you stop crying? You needed a hug. You needed Spencer.

Where was he? At work, to be sure. You had no idea as to why you sent that stupid voice note. He’d probably thought you were dying with the way you’d been howling. You’d calmed down a bit, but every other second you’d burst into tears again, just thinking about what the protagonist must be feeling.

Yes, you knew it was a book, but the love of her life just died–and after all they’d been through–she’d not only lost her childhood best friend, she’d lost him too late to realize she’d been in love with him the entire time? How cruel is that? How barbaric? 

You were coming back from another sobbing break again when your heart squeezed and you began wailing once more. If it were you… if it were you and Spencer had been the one to die–you didn’t think you’d be able to live normally again. Gosh–what was he doing working for the FBI?! Even if his job wasn’t in the field, it was still dangerous. A geeky guy like him wouldn’t stand a chance if someone planted a bomb or kidnapped him to obtain government secrets. 

Oh gosh–what if that’s what Spencer did? Was his job to keep and sort through info for the government? You could definitely see it. What if he never came back? What if the last time you saw him was this morning and you’d never see him again? 

He wouldn’t last an interrogation–he was just too sweet for that–just too…him! You would have to corner him and force him to quit or maybe ask him nicely and hope for the best. You could probably talk him down to a few less dangerous jobs. What was wrong with regular DCPD?

Now you definitely couldn’t see him with you so worked up like this–he’d ask why and you couldn’t just tell him you were in love with him–have been for the past few months. Because that would be crazy–only someone insane would do something as brash as that. Were you insane? Maybe a little, but in the fun, cute, girly type–not the batshit psycho types you see on Why Did She Do It? 

You gasped, startled at the sound of someone banging on the metal, wood-covered door connected to your apartment. “—!” Spencer’s voice cracked on the other side of the door. It almost made you laugh as you knew he had a spare key to your home–which he must have realized seconds later because he went quiet, though rustling could be heard, and soon, a jangle of keys.

You’ve never thought someone could unlock a door so fast–but before you could blink again, Spencer was flying through the doorframe, his satchel nowhere to be found. You wondered if he’d left it in his car–you’ve scolded him about such things before, someone could break in and steal it. You clicked your tongue and shook your head when Spencer came crashing down next to you.

You were huddled on the couch, your shoulder hitting the cushion of it as you bent over to see the book sitting on a throw pillow. Spencer’s breath caught in his throat and he lunged himself forward, tugging you in without warning. He smelled good, he always smelled good. You wanted to breathe him in, he’d only been gone a day, but it felt like forever–it always did with him.

He held onto you as if letting go would end the world. After the initial shock, you registered what he was doing and reciprocated his embrace. You weren’t sure why he was in such a rugged state, perhaps he missed you as much as you missed him?

Your door was still wide open, which terrified you a little. You tried pulling away, but Spencer held on tighter, “not yet,” he breathed. He inhaled your scent, it tickled you and you smiled, only then did you realize the tears drying on your face. This. This is what you had needed. What you still needed. You wondered if Spencer had gained the ability to read minds as well, or maybe he was born with it–or maybe it was just because it was you.

You idiot, it was probably that message. You smacked that thought away, wanting to be delusional for a few seconds longer.

“Okay, Spence–” you patted his back. Your throat was sore from all your crying. Which you now thought made you look like an idiot. You didn’t want to leave his arms, he was warm;  he always seemed to be the opposite of you. You just fit like that.

“What happened?” He sounded serious and angry, he began looking around the room as if he was waiting for something to jump out at him.

“What?” You pulled him down onto the couch.

“Your message–you were crying I thought–”

Spencer’s gaze snagged on the book in front of you. He paused for a moment, analyzing; and commuting the observation in his head. He took note of the surrounding tissues and chocolate. Oh. He thought. Oh– He laughed.

His eyes closed and he let his head fall back against the couch, his arms falling back to his side as sighs of relief escaped his mouth, sighs that began to sound more like hysteria with each second that went by–and then cries and whimpers. Spencer ran a hand down his face and opened his eyes once more, snagging your gaze. “Hey,” you pulled his hands into yours, moving so that your face was right in front of his, “Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” though you were frowning, your heart was a sea of bubbles. He was worried. He was worried. He was worried.

You didn’t mean to nor did you honestly like the fact that he was so scared on behalf of you–but he was worried!

He looked both relieved and sleep-deprived–and to be honest, you were tired after all the crying, slumber was calling your name.

When you stood, Spencer’s hand shot out to stop you. He–again–looked worried, “Where are you going?”

You snorted, patting him on the head, “just to shut the door.” His eyes were red, it was the last thing you saw as you headed for your door. You noticed him shrugging off his sweater vest and moving the book to the floor.

You turned the light off before fumbling your way around in the dark and making it back to Spencer.

A brush of light, slight chirping, and birds tweeting; you yawned and peeled your eyes open. The morning smelled like cologne, which you found to be odd.

You pushed yourself upward, eyes catching on the man beneath you, “oh,” you understood now, the smell was coming from him. Despite the cold air, you felt your cheeks heat, he was warm too. You wanted to rub your face into his chest like you typically did with your pillows–when you were especially comfortable–but no–you couldn’t.

You tried to lighten your weight, you knew he must be tired, he’d gotten back at around midnight, and he deserved to sleep in, even if it were just for a few hours more.

You attempted to untangle yourself, but an arm slithered around your back and Spencer shifted, “I guess that means you’re awake then.” You mumbled, bracing your hands against his chest, still trying to put the least amount of weight on him as possible.

Spencer yawned, pressing his eyes tightly together. You giggled, though your voice was croaky. You cleared your throat at the exact moment Spencer’s eyes fell open and onto yours. His smile was lopsided and you could tell he was still very much asleep–or at least half. Suddenly, Spencer frowned and reached out an arm, his knuckles brushing your cheek.

The touch was so simple, airy, even, but intimate all the same, and the way he was looking into your eyes–like the world was behind you and therefore nothing else mattered–sent a shiver up your spine and you tensed. “What’s wrong?”

Spencer tilted his head upward, “you’ve been crying.” The day before hit you and you wondered what time it was. Though your days off aligned, Spencer always seemed to be up and running. It felt weird for you to just be sitting–well, laying–here with him. You thought, surely someone must have messaged him. He must have to be at work soon.

“Hey,” Spencer ran a hand down one of your arms, pulled it off of his chest, and into one of his hands.

“Don’t you have work?” A wave of sadness washed over you as you recalled the characters in the book, the one now lying haphazardly on the floor next to the coffee table. The memory of seeing him set it on the floor right before the lights went out came to you. You wondered why he hadn’t set it on the table, but shrugged it off. Maybe he was too tired to comprehend much of anything other than that.

“Oh,” Spencer shook his head, sitting upward, moving you with him, “no, they can’t wait.”

“Are you sure?” You raised a brow, heartbeat picking up. Would he mention your position? Would he be awkward about it or would he not mention it at all? Did it matter to him? Did he not think it was a big deal? Did he do this with all of his female friends? Could your brain just sit still for one moment?! Not everything had to be analyzed and categorized. Jeez.

“Yeah,” he scoffed, his morning voice wrapping itself around your ears. It sounded what you thought Heaven must look like. “Besides, you need me, don’t you?”

You looked down at your hands, now in a puddle on his thighs, you were unable to hold back a cheesy, shy grin. You avoided his eyes, feeling laughter bubble in the back of your throat. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear–pretending like you weren’t avoiding his gaze on purpose, even though it was obvious–though it didn’t do much, and fell back into place, “Do I, though?”

“Yeah, okay,” he snorted at your sarcasm, “weren’t you just sending voice messages, begging me to hurry home?” He sighed, he was teasing, your face felt like it would melt off if something cold didn’t touch it sooner or later.

“Okay well, that was just–”

“Ah-ah– Do–do I need to play it for you?” Spencer reached for his phone, lying near the book on the floor, halfway on the blanket you’d been using and halfway off.

“No!” You screeched latching onto his arm and tugging him away.

“Ah-ah–okay.” he laughed as you tumbled onto the floor, Spencer bracing your fall somewhat, though you hit a funny bone and began laughing uncontrollably. You sat in between his legs on your knees, you were trying to calm yourself down and he was watching you.

Spencer had this realization as he stared at you in awe, you were the most beautiful person he had ever met. And it wasn’t like a startling realization, one that made him gasp, no, it was more subtle than that. It was like an, “oh,” realization, like you’d known all along in your heart, but just now put words to it.

You in your childhood cartoon pajamas, you and you're scaring him half to death, you and your crazed bedhead–you and your meltdowns over fictional characters. God, you were beautiful.

Spencer didn’t ascertain when he had leaned in, or when you had stopped laughing, or when he’d closed his eyes, or felt his hands tangle in your hair. He didn’t know when he’d grabbed your waist and pulled you closer and he didn’t know how long he’d been needing you. Spencer did know, though, that he wanted more.

a/n: listened to mysteries of love the whole way through writing this

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody @kennedy-brooke

[theesterianempire]

I'm Okay, Really - Spencer Reid x Y/N

You’re okay, really, aside from a lack of concentration, not sleeping, not eating, striving for perfection but always falling short.

You’re okay… really…

This is a Criminal Minds rewrite of a Flash fan fiction I posted to Ao3 a good five years ago.  If you have read the original, I promise it’s not stolen, it is my work.  Also, if you have read it, this one is quite different, even if it starts off in a similar manner.  If you want to read it you can find it on Ao3 under els_fictions with the same title.

Trigger Warning: Eating disorders, anorexia, calorie counting, calorie tracking, bulimia and other eating disorders, fainting, hospitals.

Word count: 1633

Chapter One

“Y/N......?”

“Y/N.....?"

“I uh what?” You asked sheepishly looking up to see Hotch looking over you.

“Have you finished the Jenkins Report yet?” He enquired with a stern face.

“I... yes... here it is.” You said handing a folder to him.

You rubbed the back of his neck nervously as Hotch started flipping through the report.

He then looked up sighing..

“Y/N this is shocking." Stated Singh.

“What?” You asked confused as to what was wrong with it.

“It’s littered with so many errors. Now do it again. I want it by tonight”.

Hotch walked off.

Great you thought. No lunch for me.

About half an hour later Spencer walked over to your desk.

"Hey Y/N,” he spoke cheerily, "You coming for lunch?" He asked.

You didn't even look up from your computer.

"I'm sorry, I can't I've got to re-do a report for Hotch." You replied.

“Oh… okay…” He responded, “Do you want any help?”

“No. Its fine.” You brushed him off, “Thank you though.”

“Any time," Smiled Spencer as he left.

You sighed running his hand through your hair. You couldn't concentrate and your hair was slightly matted with sweat.

The evening soon came around and you still wasn’t done.  There was no way you could stop for dinner now.  Hotch needed this file.  It was important.

The next day followed a similar pattern. You were half awake at work. Hotch asked you to re do a case file. You would go without lunch and then again without dinner.

The day after was the same. Soon the week was the same. Then the month. It wasn’t long before you just didn’t feel hungry anymore so you didn’t care that much. Eventually Hotch started to lay off but even then you didn’t go back to eating normally. After another month of this you almost stopped completely. You weren’t hungry so why should you eat is what you told yourself.

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you there?” Asked Garcia over the phone, “Y/N? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here,” You replied. You were leaning on a wall for support after almost fainting but you were fine. You knew you were.

“Ok.” Garcia responded skeptically, “Well, I’ve sent the information you need to the iPad.”

“Okay, thank you Garcia,” You smiled ending the call before walking back into the office where the team was set up.

“Y/N, did you speak to Garcia?” Emily asked, stepping towards you.

“Yeah… She uh… she…” Fog clouded your brain as you tried to respond.

You moved your hand to rub your face.

“She uh… She…” You tried again.

“Y/N?” Emily called, “Are you okay?”

You moved your hand from over your face and looked up but the world was tilting around you.  However, as you braced to inevitably hit the floor the impact never came.  Instead you felt the warm embrace of someone next to you as you were quickly rushed to the couch a few feet behind you.

You went to look up at the team but a strong hand was on your back, forcing you to keep your head between your legs.

“Just breathe.” You heard Spencer command… so it was him next to you, you realised.

After another minute you felt your brain fog lift and the dizziness leave you.

You slowly looked up.

“Are you okay?” Emily asked from where she stood across the room.

“I… yeah.” You muttered, “Anyway, Garcia sent the info she found to the iPad.  It looks like Jacob’s is a match.”

“Okay.  Lets bring him in,” Hotch commanded looking to Morgan, Emily and JJ.

You went to stand up but Hotch quickly turned to you,

“You’re not going anywhere.” He stated, “You are to stay here until we get back.”

“But Hotch I…” You tried to argue.

“That’s an order, Y/L/N.” He said before leaving the room.

You sighed as Emily shrugged apologetically at you before leaving the room followed by Morgan and JJ.

Spencer stood up slowly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He said quietly, “But we’ll be back soon.”

You nodded gently as he left with the rest of the team.

Once you were alone you were over come with a crushing sense of frustration.  You angrily ran your hands through your hair, tugging at it slightly.  How could you be so stupid? How could you be so weak in front of all of them?  You were better than this.

It didn’t take long for the team to return, Jacob in tow.  It was a pretty simple case once you’d gotten hold of his name from an old assistant of his.  Then with the information Garcia gave you it was easy to track him down along with a plethora of evidence that he was stupid enough to leave lying around his house.

Before you knew it you were landing back in Virginia, making your way back to the bull pen.  It was just a quick stop before you could get in your car and drive home.  However, just as you were picking up your keys from your desk, Hotch called out to you.

“Y/N, my office, now.” His tone was stern,

You briefly looked around at the rest of the team but none of them would meet your eyes. You felt a horrible sense of dread bubbling up inside of you as you made your way up to his office.

You entered his office and slowly closed the door behind you.  He was sitting behind his desk, he didn’t even look at you as you sat down opposite him.  Nor did he glance up from his paperwork as he began talking.

“Y/N, I’ve arranged for a physical to determine whether you are fit to be on this team.” He stated simply,

“What?” You snapped, “Hotch, I…”

Hotch looked up at you.

“In the field you’ve been slipping.  You’ve been disorganised and unfocused which having a negative impact on the team.  Until the physical you are written off on sick leave, following that until you are deemed fit to be in the field you will be assigned desk duty.” He explained bluntly.

“But Hotch…” You tried to argue but he cut you off.

“You’ll be emailed the details of when and where the physical will take place.” 

You went to say something but he cut you off yet again.

“That will be all Y/N.” He said, gesturing to the door.

You wanted to argue, to plead your case but it was pointless, you knew that, so instead you just stood up and made your way out.

You made your way through the bull pen, snatching your keys from the desk, not even stopping when Emily called out your name.

You were out of the building when it all caught up to you, tears welled up in your eyes and began cascading down your cheeks.

You stopped, letting yourself sit down on the steps as you sobbed uncontrollably.

“Y/N?” A voice called out to you, as someone sat down next to you.

You quickly wiped your eyes before turning to see Spencer next to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently, his voice wavering slightly for a reason you weren’t privy to.

“I’m fine, Spencer.” You assured, wiping away more tears.

“You don’t look fine, Y/N.” He replied, “You haven’t looked fine in ages.” He added barely above a whisper.

You snapped to look at him, “Whats that supposed to mean?” You shot back, vitriol thick in your voice.

“Y/N, I…” He began but you stood up.

You barely glanced at him, “Goodbye Spencer.” You spoke coldly as you made your way down the steps and towards your parked car.

You were halfway home when the anger faded and you were left with a deeper feeling of self-hatred, if that was even possible.  You would have cried if you had the energy to do so but right now all you wanted was your bed.

As you entered your apartment you felt that unwelcome grumble deep in your stomach.  You considered all of your options, you could ignore it and sleep… but sleep was unlikely due to that annoying grumble.  You could eat something for the first time in a few days… but that wasn’t helpful, it would undo all of your hard work and right now you needed to be more in control than ever before… you could have some coffee… but… actually, no… coffee was good. That would work.

You set a pot to brew while you prepared your mug and got the Splenda out of the cupboard.  All of this on auto pilot, it was habit by now, feel that grumble, make a coffee, feel sad, make a coffee, feel happy, make a coffee.  It was a coping mechanism really.

You poured your coffee and made your way to your room.  You debated showering but you really didn’t have the energy so you threw on your pyjamas before settling into bed.  You went to set your alarms before you realised there was no point.  It wasn’t like you had anywhere to be the next day anyway.  You placed your phone on the side and picked up your notebook from just next to it.

You flipped to the most recent entry and dotted down your coffee and how much Splenda you’d put in it before closing it and settling back against your pillows, coffee in hand and you just sat there, sipping away, enjoying the warmth that spread through you with every swallow.

Before you knew it you’d finished your coffee.  You placed your mug on the side, enjoying the lingering warmth it left you with.  You let your eyes close for just a second but soon enough a dreamless sleep enveloped you.

Part Two:

[dfstolenart]

Home With You | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: After a long and emotionally exhausting day, you come home feeling overwhelmed from the weight of your job but luckily your sweet loving boyfriend is there to comfort you.

A/N: so cuteeeee, love this one. Lmk your thots<33

BYR (B4 u Reid): sweet Spencer!, hard day at work, hints at abuse, child gets taken away, sad reader, sweet talk, flirting and feeling of not being enough. | kissing <— [warnings]

Your home was dimly lit when you entered the smell of a vanilla candle filled your nose, and your boyfriend was on the couch with a book on his lap

The weight of the day still pressing on your shoulders, you shut the door quietly behind you and drop your bag down with little care to where it lands

The exhaustion isn’t just physical, it sits in your bones heavy and aching, like the stories you’ve heard today, the ones you can’t unhear. The ones that make you question if you’re even making a difference.

You forget you’re standing in the middle of the entry way until a soft gentle voice pull you out “You’re late.”

He’s still sat on the couch only this time his eyes are on you scanning your face the way he does when he profiles a suspect “I know.” You murmur as you kick off your shoes “Didn’t expect to be.”

You make your way towards him, and he quickly closes his book moving it to the side of him “Come here.” He softly says as he pulls you onto his lap “tough day?”

The laugh that leaves you is hallow “That’s one way to put it.” Before you can say anything else Spencer’s hand is cupping your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones

His touch is grounding, pulling you back from the spiral you feel yourself slipping into.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head “not yet”

He nods, understanding in his eyes “okay”

You rest your head on him, and grab his hands interlacing them together

For a while neither of you speak. The silence is comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. But Spencer is patient, he always is. He knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. Eventually you break the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

“There was a little boy today. Six years old. His mom.. she” your voice cracked “She wasn’t a monster, Spencer. She wasn’t some evil person, but she was sick, and he was the one paying for it.” You feel his arms tighten around you, and he presses a soft gentle kiss to the side of your head “I’m sorry” he murmurs

“I had to take him away. He cried the whole time for his mommy, telling me she didn’t mean it trying to convince me to take him back home.” Your eyes stung with tears and you squeeze them shut “I know I did the right thing, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Spencer sighed, and squeezed your hand “Do you know how many times I’ve asked myself if I’ve done the right thing? If all of us at the BAU have? We don’t always get happy endings. Sometimes we don’t even get closure, But what keeps me going, what keeps us all going is knowing that we tried. That we did everything we could.”

You met his gaze, searching for something understanding, reassurance. And you find it.

His hand leaves yours to brush a tear from your cheek “That little boy… he might not understand now, but one day, he will. And because of you he’ll have a chance at something better.”

You let out a shaky breath

“I just feel like I’m suffocating sometimes, like no matter how much I do it’s never enough for these kids. I want to do more for them, i wish I could just take all their pain from them.”

Spencer pulled you in closer to him “you’re doing more than enough.” You close your eyes allowing yourself to believe him, even if it’s just for tonight.

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you too.” He says, holding you tighter, as if he could shield you from all the darkness in the world.

Spencer holds you against him for a long time, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm. His warmth, his presence, it’s enough to keep you tethered even when your mind still lingers on the weight of the day

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice lighter now, teasing “cuddling releases oxytocin, which reduces stress and promotes emotional bonding. So technically I am scientifically proven to be good for you.”

You both look at each other smiles both plastered on your faces “oh, is that so Dr. Reid?”

“Mhm” he hums clearly pleased with himself “Also prolonged physical affection can also lower blood pressure and improve someone’s overall mood. So, really, I’d be doing you a disservice if I let you go.”

Amusement flickered through your tired eyes “To me, that sounds like an excuse to keep me in your arms.”

He smirked “It’s science. Don’t argue against it.”

You shake your head rolling your eyes “I think you just like having me close.”

“I do” he admits easily, his voice dropping just slightly sending a shiver down your spine, his fingers continue to trail lightly up and down your arm “You’re warm, you smell good and well I’m very fond of you.”

“Fond of me?” You raised an eyebrow “You’re supposed to be utterly obsessed with me.”

He let out a small laugh “what if I say I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you? That I think about you every second we’re apart, and when you’re not in my arms, I wish you were.”

Your breath catches, your heart flutters you feel so special to hear these words come from the man in front of you “That's better.” you say

Spencer leans in, brushing his nose against yours before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. It's slow, lingering, and so sweet

Then he pulls back, you feel empty without his lips on yours “Then i’ll remind you every day for as long as I live.” your heart swelled

“You're really good at this whole comforting thing.” You smile as you rest your forehead against his, he grins “Well I do have an IQ of 18-”

“Shut up” you cut him off with a desperate kiss . . .

[lukolastrong]

this is my two cents on the topic, nobody asked for lol. The question everyone is asking- why now?? Many months later? So either Nic is trying to tell everyone, Luke & I are besties with partners or Nic & Luke are a family ( I say family if you follow Fiat & Fran. It the answer is option 1, cool! We are adults. This shouldn’t change how you see Nic and Luke BUT, why now lol. If Nic and Luke were just besties, why now follow Anotina back in June when luke was being bullied everyday. A simple hit of the button”follow” would have stopped majority of the troll behavior to Luke. But nooooo, she didn’t follow in June, July, august, September, October, November, December, or January but chooses February to now follow 👀. If you follow Fiat & Fran, they have explained in great detail, why February is an important month.

let’s be honest, Luke was unhinged- and we love it- last night. He lights up around her. Nic tries to play it cool with buddy vibes but soon, she can’t keep up the charade either. I mean, she is literally touching Luke at the dinner tag at the event. The seats are designed to be close enough to talk to one another but space to eat and mingle. Nic’s chair is right next to and close to Luke. When they are on the red carpet, he is talking to someone and she just waits on him. She could have said, I’ll be back. Sunday was the perfect night to let the world know they are friends. They had every media outlet there. And they didn’t do that at all. They went back to no space, never being separated, sitting next to each other at the after party, Nic doing a bad job trying to act like she didn’t know Luke went to that Mexican restaurant- her response, oh you did! Ma’am you know this, you just saw him last night lol. Luke staying: Nic this and Nic that. Nic keeps talking about that baby like it’s their baby. She did that at the Irish award show. It confused on interviewer. Then when the ET lady said- we need a happy ending, Luke just looks at her and smile, awkward silence and Nic goes- hey hey. WTF was that!!!! Now they have people who didn’t know them or part of the GA watching them.

lastly, sorry for the book lol. Fiat made this comment months ago. Luke fell on the sword for his family. Luke would give his kidney to Nic. He took a lot of abuse this summer. What if Nic is falling on the sword for Luke to protect their family. Nic is doing all this to protect something or someone. It may look crazy to some people but it’s doing what she feels is best. I hate to say it, but I fear- if together, Nic and Luke are going to get papped soon. Nic is trying to control the narrative and pookie is no help on that lol. They do compliment one another. Luke is unhinged in person but great with his SM presence. Nic is great with her lives, but she is unhinged on SM lol. I think Nic is on tumblr so she is seeing when people said- why not just follow Antonia.

Thanks for reading.

Don’t apologize anon, I love this. I like the thought process you’re putting out. I agree with so many things you said. The timing is of the follow is definitely weird. But idc about it honestly. I actually laughed when I first saw it all over X, the tweets were so funny. She isn’t fooling anyone! She realized what her and Luke did (reveal that they’re still unhinged together and completely in love) and is trying to throw a curve ball. Or, as I’ve seen, is to help A? Idk. I’m still trying to gather information and figure out where I land on this.

That middle paragraph is 💯. Luke and Nic couldn’t get enough of each other and it was so obvious. They light up together but I agree, Lukey pookie was even more obvious about it. He loves that woman so much.

He did get so much hate, unfairly and we know there was a lot going on bts. She can try to control it as much as she wants but the cat is out of the bag 🙂‍↔️ I hope they don’t get papped either. I want them to come out on their time, when they’re ready. Umm if she is, hello Nic 🤭👀

[kqutie]

ao3 request : HI I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC ... if its not too much trouble, do you think you could write this fic in a male pov? … i just want more immersion im not mad lmao just desperate and pathetic for hermes

length : 1.4k

a/n : I hope this a good compromise for being unable to make a male pov version of the series, my darling. it’s only a little something, i’m sorry i couldn’t do more for you but, again i did my best to make it feel special to you as a fellow hermes lover. hopefully it also explains (not excuse!) hermes’ harassing behaviour towards the reader.

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← prev. | four. the washed-up stranger

“What have you done, Hermes?” Athena begins, already distressed as she appears out of nowhere beside him.

“Nothing at all, darling~” he coos nonchalantly, peering over the new cloud he’s stationed over your island for further observations. He’s made a habit of planting himself there in his free time just so he has the best view of all the hilarious antics you pull on the crew. He hasn’t been able to laugh this much in ages — no wonder he’s grown such an attachment to you.

“Don’t play dumb!” His half-sister snaps and huffs in frustration, working herself up as she drills a hole into his temple with a glare. “There was no need for such a show!”

“Oh! But we had the perfect audience~” Hermes reasoned with a sly smirk and guiltless eyes, hands tucked behind his head, and his ankles crossing over as he floated about on his back as if on a suspended bed of air. “Why not provide them with some entertainment? It’s only fair since they’ve supplied me with so much in so little time~” he chuckles to himself at the amusing events he’s witnessed.

Athena takes a moment to observe his unconcerned attitude; it’s as if she’s trying to look into his soul. She’s looking at him like many of her elaborate weaving projects, closely examining each thread to ensure that not a single one was a centimetre out of place. It was quite unnerving, but Hermes only had to keep his eyes shut and hum to himself leisurely for sufficient distractions.

“What is this about Hermes? There’s something more here, isn’t there?”

Hermes knows another lecture is coming and avoids the conversation for as long as possible. The best way, he gathers, is to not address it at all. He peeks at her with a lazily, half-opened eye, “Wha’s that?”

There’s a strict but worried expression on Athena’s face. Ever since she had taken his great-grandson in as her champion, they have grown a closer relationship, sometimes confiding in each other over small frustrations. At an especially vulnerable time, Hermes had gone to her, pouring as much of his heart out as he had drunk Dionysus’ wine. It was a rare sight to see her spritely half-brother, but Athena helped him through it. She didn’t quite understand why, however, as she wasn’t usually the solicitous type — she later found out that he needed her logic to balance his emotional state. That was the only wise thought he had at the time, and she was happy it was one he followed through on. Back then, she was more logical than empathetic, so she couldn’t offer much compassion, but she had grown since, even as a Goddess. And she can already foresee what will happen without a prophet's clairvoyance. She needs to approach the topic with equal parts delicacy and rigour.

“Don’t do this to yourself again, Hermes.” Athena meets her half-brother’s uncharacteristically aggrieved glare. She doesn’t back down even in the tense pause that follows where he refuses to answer her. The silence stretches on for so long between them that she’s afraid he has turned to stone because of his abnormal stillness.

“…It’s not happening again!” The messenger god finally snaps, turning away from his half-sibling to stare at nothing — nothing is better than seeing the pity in her eyes.

“Despite her divine-like powers, she is still a mortal, Hermes!” Athena reasoned, circling her brother to be able to see his face and look into his eyes, wanting to convey the gravity of the situation, but is unsuccessful. Hermes was insistent on not meeting her eyes, turning away at her every step. Eventually, she stops, succumbing to his wishes and stands back but her presence has grown so imposing. It feels just as perturbing that she doesn’t leave him be — why couldn’t she just leave him be?!

“If you don’t stop, it will end just the same.” She warns even though she knows he doesn’t want to hear another word, judging by the tension in his shoulders. “You have to let her go before history repeats itself — you’re only hurting yourself and her. The same way you hurt yourself and—!”

“Don’t Say His Name!” Hermes finally meets her eyes, his demanding shout stilling the air around them. His eyes glowed brighter with a profound fury beneath the shadow of his helmet. The wings attached to his helmet, once flexed in their alertness, gradually move to cover his eyes — a weak attempt at shielding him from the world.

Even with his eyes hidden away, Athena could tell that they welled with tears. But there is no satisfaction when she sees the salty drops drip past the mask of his feathers and down his cheek and jaw.

To think that a mortal man could have such an adverse effect on her usually jocular brother. Despite the years that have already passed and Hermes’ supposed return to normality, he has yet to recover from such a sad loss. The love he had described to her as the truest kind he’d ever found had slipped right through his fingers. It was to be expected of mortal souls, they are far more fragile than the gods and meet their ends far quicker. In his desperation, Hermes pleaded with their uncle to allow him the privilege of continuing to see his love again in the underworld. The messenger god had such hope that it could be made possible for him, but alas, he was not granted such a benefit, even as the lord of the underworld’s nephew. The night Hermes had sought comfort in her, he had been on his way back from Hades after retrieving a barrel of wine from Dionysus, who took pity on him.

Hermes reminisced his and his love’s happiest memories, from the times that left them breathless and feeling nothing but alive to the quiet moments spent in impossible closeness. He described their connection as a fated one, a union that made him want to slow down the years and not live at such high speeds, a surprising confession from the god known for his swiftness. Because of him, Hermes had begun to crave a simple, quiet existence — all he needed was him to reach fulfilment and completeness. Hermes remembered and gushed over his love’s beautiful eyes, his loving voice, his addictive lips, his shining spirit and his strong build. He vowed to never forget him or the precious love they’d shared.

As time passed and his lover grew older and frailer, Hermes became anxious to immortalise him and keep him by his side forever. He sought his father, who, in a rare instance, instructed against it, citing the failed immortalisation of other mortals such as Achilles and Endymion. Zeus had saved him from the heartache of foolishly and selfishly causing his love’s demise. But, in turn, had made him the bearer of a different heartache.

But…was one truly more painful than the other? Hermes regrets every day that he didn’t, at least, try for his love…

“Don’t you ever say his name… His name is a precious one. Even I do not speak it.” Hermes gathers himself away from his sister’s prying view and his helmet wings slowly fold back to reveal his eyes once again.

“You do not speak it because of the pain it gives you!”

“His name will only ever bring me joy! Don’t speak as if you know about my heart! You. Don’t. Athena. No one does. Only he ever did!”

“But I know you will only make a fool of yourself once again — she is a mortal! A mortal! It will all end the same!” Their screams leave them breathing heavily and exhausted. But, gradually, the tension fades and so do the high emotions. Hermes’ scowling expression slowly melts into a dispirited one as Athena’s stern stare warms with sympathy.

“Let her go, Hermes.”

Shaking his head, the messenger god turns away with slumped shoulders, his helmet’s wings giving a subtle tremble as if to shake off the sadness.

‘HERMES!’ the patron god smiles to himself, his mood lifting upon hearing your cry in between his ears.

“Oh! It appears as though I’m being summoned~” Without another word, he zips away, his conflicted expression finally revealing itself when finally away from Athena’s prying gaze. But as he drew closer to you, it melted into a smug (almost sad) grin.

Athena’s right…

navi. | series m.list

taglist : @bluepanda08 @doodle-with-rhy @sunshinedaisy21 @jolixtreesunn @ellaprime7 @marcelemry @nishayuro @hijinkxy @kerosene-demon @windrosesrasta @keikeiluvyou @darling-eos @iamapotatoe @yuzxi18 @woncloudie @permanently-nothere @ash1 @barrythestrawberry041 @trashcannotbealive @yuksssss

[strvlveera]

You Got Everything You Wanted

pre argentina oikawa x afab reader

heavily based on ‘We Hug Now’ by Sydney Rose

angst scenario

not proofread !!

w/c: 690

a/n: literally made this because i heard this song and thought of this scenario it’s literally 2am rn. i’m so sorry for the poor plot and appearing randomly :’(

taking the pledge to stop making drafts of long fics that don’t end well…

“He’ll be better.”

You began to tell your friends the same thing every week, which turned into everyday.

“He’ll be home soon,”

Taking a glance at the front door, that should’ve opened one hour ago,

The furnished apartment somehow always felt empty and cold even with the warm fuzzy memories. For some reason the bed felt the same way, even with the presence of Tooru.

No matter how many silent dinners you have with him; no matter how many times your friends have tried to persuade you to leave him, there was always a lingering feeling gripping inside your chest; a small chance that he’d go back to his normal ways.

The flirtatious Tooru, who tried to impress you with a jump serve that ended up hitting Iwa straight onto his face.

The jealous Tooru, who ignored you for a maximum of one hour when you revealed your type for basketball guys during freshman year.

The Tooru that scurried straight to your door when you found out you couldn’t get into your dream university, calling him with incoherent sentences and a snotty nose.

The Tooru who dragged you to his apartment when your parents kicked you out of the house for being a disappointment, arguing back to them.

“You’re more than they’ll ever be.”

The Tooru who still tried. Who still cared.

Now sitting in front of you silent, with lifeless eyes that you couldn’t read anymore as if the connection you had was cut. As if he chose to be a stranger.

“You’re late to dinner again, was coach Mizoguchi making you guys run the same drills again too?” You asked after a nervous silence, trying to start a conversation.

He just grunted in response, along with a half shrug.

“Y’know you can look at me right, I’m not mad at you for being late again for like the hundredth time,” You began with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn’t make eye contact with you.

Understanding that he wasn’t going to respond, your smile flattened, and you pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to eat dinner quietly. Almost feeling embarrassed for even trying to talk to him.

The clash of metal utensils and ceramic plates filled the kitchen, creating a sharp dissonance that started to agitate you. Through this, new doubtful thoughts about Tooru slithered into your brain as your friend’s words returned into your memory.

“Have some self-respect [y/n].” Something you forgot you had.

You wrapped your hands around Tooru’s waist, behind him as he washed the dishes, showing signs of life. He always liked being affectionate. Now he only hugs you back when he wants to.

Today, however, he accepted your offer of affection. A rise of butterflies filled your stomach as the distant but familiar sensation of love finally reached back down between you two. Until you rested your chin at the base of his chest smelling a sickening sweet scent.

It wasn’t your perfume.

“Have some self-respect [y/n].” Your friend’s words echoed through your mind.

You shoved yourself off Tooru in confusion and disbelief, finally meeting his eyes. They were clouded by lust. He reached for your face with his cold, damp hands.

“Wait Tooru —“

“What?” He said agitated.

“That’s not my perfume you’re wearing,” I explained

“What? What are you talking about, just come back here,” He demanded, gesturing for you to come back to him.

“No. I’m not having sex with you, Tooru, until you explain why you’re wearing another woman’s perfume.”

“I never said I wanted to have sex [y/n]…” He sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead clearly annoyed at your sudden outburst.

“Well it’s always what you want and what we end up doing anyway, isn’t it Tooru? You can’t tell me i’m lying,”

“I fucked up…” He whispers under his breath.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

“What did you just-“

“I slept with another girl. Happy?”

Silence.

Other than your rapid heartbeat banging against your chest. The overgrowing vine of pain flowed through you. The words in your throat, trapped.

“Say something [n/n], I can’t stand this silence anymore.”

“Well it seems like you got everything you wanted.”

[solarismoons]

SPOILERS FOR S2 EP7 OF SCHOOL SPIRITS

Mr. Martin rowing away with Janet is so ominous…

His acting is SO great. His mannerisms and the way he speaks is so perfect. “We deserve this.”

“It makes me sad.. That we couldn’t have gone to any of these places together.” NO one can tell me Maddie doesn’t like Wally as much as he likes her. That girl is in love.

I genuinely didn’t expect everyone to be right about Yuri and Charley! They recreated that pottery making scene!! I did not expect them to get freaky, but i’m NOT complaining.

IM GONNA SCREAM. The way Wally hooked his finger in her bra strap??? My heart is actually beating so fast..I know i’ve said this before, but the tongue is INSANE.

I love how the ghosts are having sex with each other while the living kids are literally crashing out.

I really wish we saw Quinn going into her scar for the first time… I really wonder what it would’ve looked like.

IM ACTUALLY CRYING. I did NOT expect to see Milo’s bare ass today, but DAMN… My jaw dropped to the FLOOR.

“It’s kind of hard not to think about everything that’s waiting for me here.” Ugh, don’t make me cry today PLEASE.

I’m a little surprised there was no talk of Maddie begin a virgin, since that seemed fairly important to her in the first season. I’m not complaining at all though, because WOW..

“Oh, god! I’m gonna need to guys to peel yourselves off each other and come down to the library stat.” The way Maddie nor Wally didn’t even TRY to cover up is killing me. They genuinely don’t GAF.

They were planning on torturing the other ghosts?? This just keeps getting worse and worse the more we learn.

“I’m glad it was you, too.” Please don’t make me like these two together…

‘Notice of suspension’??? God, i feel so awful for Simon. I never even thought of how this affected him. He’s missed so many classes countless times.. What about his future? He flunked that one college admission interview, too. If anything bad happens to Simon, i’m throwing a tantrum.

Oh my god… Poor Rhonda. I love her so much. Knowing she was alone with Janet and Mr. Martin for so long is just so horrifying.

I didn’t expect Dawn to be so involved! I love how she’s really not stupid or airheaded. She’s just a little eccentric. I’m so glad we got another scene with her.

This show is honestly a horror movie at this point… ‘Mr. Anderson’ being soaking wet, covered in mud with his head gushing blood walking around with a fireplace poker is terrifying. My heart is beating so fast.

Mr. Martins manipulating Janet is infuriating. I don’t even have the words to express how much I hate him.

Poor Quinn! I feel so bad. “I died knowing that everyone was mad at me.” My baby 😞💔💔.

“You can’t just leave me now.” STOP. I love them so much it hurts so bad.

I really didn’t expect Simon and Maddie to argue but it was bound to happen.

“Is this because of Wally?” I called it. I fucking called it. I KNEW this was going to come up. Kristian’s acting always gets me. I love Simon so much.

Patrick Gilmores acting is amazing. He somehow even sounds like Mr. Martin and it’s terrifying. Also, he’s lowkey hot and i’m not sorry for saying that.

Mr. Martin forcing Janet into the hellscape made me sick to my stomach.

This fandom is so smart it blows my mind. Everyone said Mr. South must know more about the scars than we had thought. I kind of thought he was just being melodramatic, but the more we saw the scars I changed my mind.

Everyone was right about the scar being Mr. Martin’s. This makes a whole lot more sense. The woman could’ve been his finance, considering the fact that we haven’t seen her before.

This episode was genuinely insane. I still haven’t even fully processed anything.

[dkfile]

the daydreamers — x. minghao (teaser)

word count | 581, full fic est. 16k–20k genre | fluff, angst, exes to lovers, college au ━ film major!minghao, gn!reader

as of late, there have been many things you can’t bring yourself to think about, including (but not limited to) the disastrous acting program abroad, your parents’ lingering disappointment, and the eggshells your friends walk on whenever they’re around you. and you thought your avoidance wouldn’t be a problem, but as it turns out, agreeing to help out your ex-boyfriend makes bottling up your feelings a little harder than necessary.

author’s note | here we goooo!!! i have not planned out a fic as much as i have planned out this one jesus.

The wind whistles, and one look at Minghao tells you he isn’t going to break.

So, you give in.

“Do you not want me here?”

He looks at you, and you wonder if the sharpness in his eyes would be subdued if he wore those godforsaken blue contacts.

Shifting to face you, one elbow resting on the railing, he asks, “What makes you think that?”

Your eyes narrow in incredulity. “Isn’t it obvious, Minghao?” you say, and when he tilts his head — an indication of a challenge — your lip twitches into a sneer, and suddenly you are back in California, spitting poison even snakes would cower from. “We haven’t seen each other in a year and—”

“And whose fault is that?”

You stagger back, startled by the interruption. “Last time I checked, you were the one who broke up with me.”

“You were the one who stopped answering my calls.”

“So did you!”

“You pushed me away,” he retaliates. “You were the one who closed yourself off whenever I asked you things. You stopped talking to me.”

A scoff falls from your lips, and you look away to avoid his gaze.

“It’s incredible what 9,000 kilometres will do to a 3-year relationship,” he says. A beat passes before he speaks again, “When were you gonna tell me you were back?”

Fingers gripping the railing tightly, you say offhandedly, “You cut your hair.”

The sudden swerve of conversation startles him, and you start to see glimpses of the agitation you used to see through the computer screen. “Are you fucking serious?”

Ignoring him is difficult, but you manage. “It’s shorter now, huh?”

He throws his hands in the air before saying, “Yes, I cut my hair. You liked the mullet more than I did, anyway,” and when you can’t find anything to say to that, he repeats, “When were you gonna tell me?”

You pull at your earlobe. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“I fucking mean it. I—” you inhale sharply. “I don’t know. I guess I was putting it off.”

He scoffs. “Of course.”

“Who told you?” you ask, ignoring his irritation. “Seokmin?”

Something shines in his eyes, some sort of secret that’s powerful enough to soften his entire being. “Yes.”

Silence blankets the both of you again as he turns to look back at the skyline. The sunset has already begun, painting his face with pinks and oranges and yellows. With pursed lips, you fiddle with an idea in your mind, one that may force you to lay everything out in the open.

“Do you remember what you said?”

His eyes land on you again, this time void of his previous anger. You expect him to ask, “About what?” but all he does is stare and stare and stare, and you feel the thread you used to stich your wounds begin to unravel.

It never used to be scary, being vulnerable with Minghao.

Those 9,000 kilometres changed more than you could have ever imagined.

“No,” he replies. “I was so angry that night that I think I forgot everything.”

The admittance pulls a soft laugh out of you. “Yeah, me too. But still, I’m sorry.”

“I know. So am I,” he says. “I know it may not seem like it, but I am. It’s just… you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Despite it all, though,” he begins, sincerity dripping from his words like honey, “it’s nice to see you.”

The sun dips below the horizon just as relief tugs your lips upward.

[alwaysanundertone]

high sex drive | poly! marauders x fem! reader

hurt/comfort + smut

TW: NSFW, piv, non-protected sex, oral (f/m receiving)

Sirius was drawing patterns on your thigh, the tips of his fingers grazing the supple skin there ever so slowly while his head rested on your belly. Your other two boyfriends were cuddling each other, they were all spent after coming many times, so why weren’t you?

You found every touch maddening, it didn’t make sense for you to be so wound up; it wasn’t like you hadn’t gotten off, because you had, and plenty of times.

The problem was your sex drive. Your desire wasn’t something that your ex boyfriends accepted, nor did they deem it normal, one of them even suggested to go see a sex therapist one time, and you did. The session failed to give you answers, and after some time you just gave up, resigning yourself to a life of not voicing your own needs.

It went good, as good as faking being satisfied would go, but it wasn’t that bad after all. With these guys, though, it was really difficult to just pretend.

“Love?”

You looked up, finding three pairs of eyes focused on you. “Mh?”

“Where did you go, dove? You’ve been awfully quiet. Sirius just asked you if you are hungry, we thought about ordering something, is pizza good?”

You refrained from blushing, hating the fact that you weren’t able to mask your true feelings even in a peaceful moment like that. “Sorry, I’ve just been lost in my own thoughts, I guess” You chuckled, sounding suspicious even to your own ears. “Pizza’s good, thank you”

You felt Sirius mouth closing over your inner thighs, its teeth piercing the supple skin there, making you gasp. “Come on, darling, you know you can tell us anything”

The thing was that every boyfriend you had started this conversation like this, telling you that it was okay, that he would have taken care of you, and then when they found out that they couldn’t change you, they’d start to call you a nympho, making you ashamed of yourself. So no, you weren’t sure you could tell them anything.

“You’re doing it again, love” James was looking at you through pleading eyes, it was really hard to resist him when he was acting like this, but you had to. The guys were the best thing that happened to you in a long time, and you weren’t willingly letting them go for something as stupid as your sex drive.

“Oh, uh” You blushed. “I think I’m just kind of tired, you know? Nothing crazy”

There was a moment of silence, then Remus spoke up. “This thing won’t work if you’re keeping stuff from us, dove. You have to understand the importance of trust, if you don’t want to talk about it now, fine, but at least tell us the main topic that’s bothering you so much you’re not even listening to us when we’re talking to you”

His words felt like a harsh slap to your cheek, bringing true tears to the surface, which you tried to fight against, to no avail.

“Sorry, I don’t want to bother you, I do trust you, it’s just-“

“Was sex too much? Were you unconfortable? You’ve been like this since we had sex, did we hurt you?”

Sirius sounded horrified, and you couldn’t help the words that tumbled out of your mouth, you had to fix this.

“No, no it’s quite the opposite actually” They were all looking at you expectantly, you sighed. “It’s just- I have a high sex drive, okay? And I hate it, I know it’s twisted and disgusting and not right but I need to get off multiple times a day and sometimes having sex worsens the situation because then I keep wanting more and I hate it, you evet got me off so many times I’m the worst girlfriend ever.” Now that the words were comung out of your mouth, you couldn’t seem to stop them. “And I’ve been to sex therapists but they don’t know how to turn this off and just- I’m so sorry you’re probably regretting even-“

“Do not finish that sentence for the love of God”

You furrowed your brows. “Sirius what-“

“No, I should be the one saying sorry, I’ve been torturing you for the past hour and I didn’t even notice it.”

“And you’re not disgusting” James piped in.

“Dove, it’s nothing crazy, we can just-“

“No you can’t fix it.” You couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth even if you tried, years of shame weighting you down. “Every ex that I had told me that they could fix it but it just doesn’t go away and I know it’s a burden” You pressed your hands to your face, hating this situation and hating yourself even more for letting it happen.

“Dove, would you please let us finish?” You nodded, your hands firmly locked in place. “Okay, I was trying to say that you can tell us if you’re needy and we’ll be really happy to help. There’s three of us, and if we aren’t available, there are your toys, you know? I don’t know what douchebags you dated, but this would never be a burden to us” His eyes were pleading you to believe him, and you found yourself wanting to.

“I think it’s anything but a burden, darling” You blushed slightly at Sirius, who was now laying on his belly, his head hovering right above your centre. You squirmed unconfortably, he smirked at you. “I’m being mean, aren’t I? Hovering just above you, so close yet so out of touch” His lips were now grazing your earlobe, making you shiver head to toe, the movement of his hands on your inner thigh maddening. “Such a pretty little thing, so flustered, what do you want now, love?”

You tried to tell him, but being vocal about your needs was something you weren’t used to, especially after years of slut shaming in your past relationship. You tried to avoid his question, wriggling your hips. “You know what I want”

He tsked. “No, I don’t. Do you want my mouth?” He lightly kissed you above your panties and shorts, making you grunt. “Mh, interesting. Maybe it’s my fingers that you want?” He caressed your nipples over the thin fabric of your -James’s- shirt. “My cock?”

The moment was interrupted by a pornographic grunt, coming from a very flustered James. “Fuck that’s so hot” He palmed his dick over his boxer briefs, making you blush.

“Look at him, darling, you’re making him needy. I think we should give him a show.”

You whimpered. “Sirius, please”

“I can give you everything you want, love. Just ask me”

You swallowed your pride. “I want your mouth, please”

He tutted. “Where do you want it? Here?” He grazed your forehead, the slightest touch sending you ablaze with need.

“No, Sirius, fuck, I want it on my pussy, please eat me out, I’m begging you” You couldn’t recognize your own voice, it sounded breathy, restrained, too close to begging.

“Gladly, darling” He pushed your shorts down, ripping the soft fabric of your panties in two. You didn’t have time to complain, his mouth immediately landing right on your clit.

His tongue started massaging the little bud, making you gasp as he flicked it repeatedly, moaning while doing so.

“You’re so wet, darling, I’m kind of mad, you know? You were really trying to keep this from me, from us” You shivered as you felt his index finger teasing your hole slowly, making you arch your back.

As he entered you, Remus was right above you, his dick in his hand, stroking your cheek with his free one. “Open up, dove, make me feel good”

He didn’t have to ask twice, your mouth opening right as Sirius thrusted into you with his fingers. “Fuck, she’s so wet James, fuck the show come here”

Suddenly, all three of your boyfriends were on you, James lining the crown of his cock at your entrance as Sirius lips closed right on your clit, sucking on it hardly. You felt one of Remus’s hands right over your right nipples, pinching it slightly, making you arch your back.

Your head was spinning, you felt awfully close to orgasming. “Fuck, love if you squeeze me like that I won’t last”

“That’s fine” Sirius piped in. “That’s why there’s three of us, to keep her satisfied” He tutted as you tried to close your thighs. “That isn’t nice now love, is it? Keep them open for us, stay still”

You loved when he was mean during sex, loved how he made you feel like you were at his mercy. “Sirius, close, god”

He chuckled. “You’re already coming, aren’t you? You’ve been such a good girl, telling us what you need, I think you deserve to come” You felt Remus’s cock swelling in your mouth, you rushed to swallow every drop of him, trying to focus on it, but it was difficult when you had two of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen between your thighs.

“Come now, darling. Be a good girl and come for us”

It was all it took for you to explode, your mouth wide open, eyes shut as you gripped Sirius head with all your force. He wasn’t complaining, though, still lapping at you, while James got off inside of you, his thrust loosing force and rhythm.

Just as you were coming down from your high, you felt another cock probing at your entrance.

“What…”

“Hush, love, I think you got one more in you, don’t you?”

You weren’t able to respond, your long-haired boyfriend immediately started rutting into you, his hips hitting the back of your thighs at a punishing rhythm.

“You’re so hot, fuck” The sounded that came out of you were pornographic, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, you could already tell that this orgasm was going to shake you thoroughly.

All you could manage to do, to say, was chant your boyfriends’ name like a prayer.

“Come on now, dove, give us another” Remus leaned down to kiss you, his tongue caressing yours, you couldn’t help but moan in his open mouth.

You obliged, drenching Sirius’s cock as your brain completely shut down. You could feel your boyfriend coming inside of you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself down to Earth.

You found yourself in a hot tub, James massaging your shoulders behind you while Remus stood kneeling outside of it, rubbing your feet.

“How do you feel? Good?”

You hummed, looking up at your long-haired boyfriend, your hand reaching up caress his face.

“Really, love? Me and Remus are both cuddling you, and it’s him you reward?” James’s tone had no bite in it, still you reached your other hand behind his head, scratching his scalp.

“Hey, it’s me who ate her out, it’s only fair, really” He winked at you.

There was a bit of silence, then you felt Remus hands wondering up your thighs.

“What-“

He smiled at you. “I think I can get another one out of you, just relax against Jamie and let me do the work”

You moaned lightly, nuzzling against your boyfriend’s toned chest, wondering what you’ve done to deserve them.

[betterwithbooksthanwithpeople]

The line “the reason I’m living is you” actually has so many layers to it - like, there are the literal ways both Ponyboy and Johnny are the reason the other is still alive with Pony talking Johnny down after he says he wishes he could disappear and Johnny stabbing Bob so Pony wasn’t drowned and then we get to this song where Ponyboy’s the one who needs talked down. They’ve saved each other’s lives before - “the reason I’m living is you” means "the reason I am not dead right now is you." Then, as if that’s not enough, there’s the dynamic of these two and how they feel like outsiders even among the greasers sometimes but have found a camaraderie with each other. In Far Away from Tulsa they plan a life together away from the problems they’re facing and now, in a twisted way, they’re getting a glimpse of that life. “The reason I’m living is you” as in “a future with you is what I’m living for.” It’s both “you’re what’s keeping me alive” and “you’re what makes life worth living.” “Despite everything, you’re what has brought me to this point so of course we can keep going if we’re together” and knowing how the story ends I’m just supposed to be normal about that? lol yeah no sorry

[purplesimmer455]

Later that night, Tess checks in with Emily before heading to the romance festival. Though she's not ready for a serious relationship, she wants to try and go on a date and test the waters. Amy tells her about this cute person named Dani Davila she's friends with, who's a nectar maker in Chestnut Ridge, and is in town for a few days. Tess runs into Dani not too long after she and her cousin Luna and her wife Chrissy arrive at the festival. Luna winks at Tess and mouths "they're cute!" Before heading off with Chrissy to get some Sakura tea. Tess watches them go with a pang. Luna and Chrissy have been a solid couple since they were 14, and Tess sometimes feels wistful as she thinks of Chrissy and Luna growing older together and how she won't have that with Megs anymore. She shakes herself out of her thoughts, and focuses on talking to Dani.

They’re definitely very cute, she thinks with a blush. And though she’s not ready to be serious with anyone, she’s hoping they might want to woohoo with her. “Hey, you’re Dani right?” Tess asks casually. “Yes, I am. And you are?” Dani asks in a Chestnut Ridge drawl that makes Tess swoon. “Tess Feldman-Lia, um, Lewis, Feldman-Lewis.” Tess says, cursing herself for fumbling her last name. “Sorry, I’m a little rusty. I was with my ex-wife for so many years and this is my first foray back into romance.” Tess says with a sheepish grin. “That’s alright,” Dani says, and Tess smiles shyly at them.

There’s a slightly awkward pause and Tess clears her throat, “So, Amy told me you like making nectar?” She asks. “I sure do,” Dani says, and they go off explaining nectar making. Tess listens, adding in some comments though she doesn’t know too much about it. Things get a bit flirty, and Tess gathers her courage before batting her eyes at Dani. “Would you want to go back to your place?” She asks, lowering her voice just a bit and touching their arm lightly. “Look, Tess, you’re really cute and nice but I’m not at that point with you yet, why don’t we call it a night and I’ll ask you out next time I’m in town?” They suggest and Tess nods, mortified. “Sure, that would be great and I’m sorry Dani, I didn’t mean to come off too forward.” She says, but they wave away her apology. “It’s alright, but I did enjoy talking to you,” they say, and Tess smiles. “Me too,” she says, and they kiss her cheek before leaving.

Edit: I done goofed, as they say. I was looking up Dani on the Sims wiki recently and found out they have a girlfriend named Marissa (they live in the same house). I was mortified and like oh my god, I had Dani essentially cheat by having Tess flirt them up and I felt so bad. I think I might have to find someone else for her to date and hope that Dani flirting with Tess didn’t cause an issue for their relationship with Marissa. (Though on the wiki it says they have a tumultuous relationship anyway but still, dang). 😳😅 I put a funny gif under the cut to show my embarrassment.

[howlett-dekarios]

𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢

▏Hugh Jackman x Reader

▏Summary: You didn't handle breakup with your boyfriend well, and Hugh ended up picking you up from the club in the middle of the night.

▏Warnings: throwing up | breakup themes | alcohol | actress!reader | toxic ex-relationship | a lot of drunk behavior |

▏Word count: 3,8k

▏A/n: Scenario of him despite it being fucking 3 am, picking you up while you're shit-faced drunk and him taking care of you? It's just too much to handle. I used the "abcdefu" fragment and also obv inspired the title on one of Fergie's songs.

You’re the fans favorite. Even though you are one of the most recognizable actress in the whole industry and still young, you’re also down-to-earth woman. Not hiding from the world or doing anything special to look better, coexisting with fans, which was the reason of many arguments with your manager. But that was the promise you made to yourself when starting it all; being true to yourself, modest and just polite to the world which gave you a chance. Enjoying every day without acting like you’re anyone special. Because in your opinion, you really weren’t. Of course there was no doubting your pure talent and hard work you put into your development but still, a horrendous part of your successful career was just a pure luck. Right place, people and time. 

One of these people was sitting beside you, laughing his ass off because of the joke you’ve just made. You knew Hugh for a few years now, almost instantly clicking the first day on set of one of the x-men movies. You just understood each other, having similar characters and valuing the same things in life despite the age difference. That’s way your energy on screen was probably such an impregnable thing, natural chemistry of two friends off the set pass on the final products.

“Y/n our source gave as an info about you breaking up with your long term partner, is it true?”

How the fuck did they know it? You couldn’t tell. It was still fresh and honestly you wouldn’t have been surprised if that ‘source’ would be your ex himself, wanting to put you in a bad light. Make you embarrass yourself in public eyes. The look Hugh was giving you wasn’t making it any easier, since you haven’t told him yet. His eyes full of worry and damn knowing him, he really would like to talk with you outside of the cameras before you’d answer this question.

“Well, yes, unfortunately we separate our ways.” You forced yourself to smile “But it was a mutual agreement. We decided that it wasn’t working for us anymore. Wish him all the best, though.”

Best your ass. He was a controlling freak who was so scared of you cheating on him with one of your co-stars that he ended up having some lady sucking his dick himself. It all started months ago, arguments about what you can and cannot do, his family pressuring you to help them out, saying how you will never be enough for their saint and lovely boy. His tantrums about you spending too much time on sets, or how you’ve been wearing too revealing clothes on premiers or other events. For the last months you’ve been feeling like a prisoner, used only for money. Which was only worse considering your public image of strong and independent woman, a feminist who would never allow that to happen. You felt ashamed of yourself for it, for how you’d been okay with him treating you like a complete trash.  

Hugh knew about it all. He has been giving you advices, being your arm to cry on after another fight in the middle of the night, suggesting a break up long before that asshole cheated. But of course, you’ve been to blind to do anything. Blindfolded by love and old memories when he had been a good guy.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Interviewer smiled apologetically, but you knew better than that to know hoe pleased he was with all of it. Having a hot take to treat media with. “Well, I’m sure a lot of guys gonna stand in line offering his hearts to you.”  You really did not need that now. You have enough of ‘fans’ both men and women posting nasty comments online. “Thank you guys for your time and wish you further successes.”

“Thank you very much.” A forced smile once again appeared on your face and Hugh did the same.

After all the cameras went off and you were on your way out, Hugh stopped you, feeling of his big palm on your arm too familiar to mistake it for anyone else.

“You okay? Why haven’t you told me?” His eyes full of concern. He isn’t mad about you not telling him, rather about that he found out this way.

“It’s just.. it’s still getting to me, okay? I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. He was a dick who didn’t deserve to breath the same air as you.” But Hugh also was quite aware of how deeply you loved that asshole. If that was up to him, he would’ve knocked the shit out of him long time ago but just for your sake he stayed silent.  “You’re sure you’re fine? Want to talk about it?” It was the least he could think of right now. Knowing your character and how young and unpredictable you were..  well it was the best for everyone if you won’t be left alone for a while.

“No, no, it’s okay. As you said he was jerk anyway. I’m completely fine, no need to worry, Hugh.” You smiled, no really sure who are you trying to convince now.

“Okay, just.. call me if you need anything. And I mean anything, Y/n, you get it?” If you gonna do something stupid, he’ll rather like to know what.

“Thanks, but everything’s fine. I got it.”

He has been reading at his place when Ryan texted him. Nothing unusual especially considering how the last adjustment to the schedule of shots to new Deadpool were made. But the time got him curious.

‘You should check it out.’  And two twitter links below.

One took him on your ex’s profile where this scumbag posted some teary statement. Rearranging whole narration of your relationship, how he was the hurt one, how you aren’t the person you’re showing to public and many, many more words that were just bunch of lies. At this point he was fucking sure that this scumback was the one who spread the information about your breakup to the media.

Not good.

But the latter one.. it was even worse.

Video of you in the club, dancing and drinking with random people. Your pupils were enlarged, forehead sweaty and your voice a bit more rough than usual, which gave him enough insight to know that you are very drunk.

It was like jumping in a rabbit hole. After one post, there was another, and another. All from the same club and all very recent. Fans being overjoyed how you were taking photos and socializing with them. Drinking shots and paying round after round on you. You dancing and singing at the top of your lungs in a top that showed almost everything that was to show and pants that were put low enough, displaying straps of your thongs. Of course in the comments people were sharing the exact address of club where the party was hosted, saying how you confidently agreed to stay until closing time.

“Shit.” He sighed. Not a chance. He checked the hour and there is no way of you staying there any minute longer. “Fuck, no.” His fingers deepen in his hair, gripping them tightly.

Thank god that he hasn’t had any drink tonight.

‘I’m on it.’ A quick text to Ryan, as a way of thanking his friend for his effort.

When he got there, the music was rumbling even outside of the club.

“I’m too old for this shit..”

At first crowd of people standing in line tried to protest, but as soon as they’ve realized who is it, the flashes of their phones were on his face. Fortunately enough for you the bouncers didn’t let paparazzi in, probably due to the club policy. Some guard at the entrance stopped him, but having a recognizable face had its advantages and now Hugh wasn’t in any position to not use them now.

As soon as he entered the lights and heat hit him. The place crumped to the brim, drunk people trying to ask for autographs or photos.

“Not now, guys, please back off.” He really tried to be polite but after a minute he realized there is no point. When another guy pushed a camera into his face, he got enough. “Not now!”

Pushing through the crowd wasn’t an easy task, but he had to do so, knowing you are having your time on the stage. The Dj at that point was your personal service, playing whatever you asked for. All fans with their hands up and phones out recording the footage that’ll be definitely a one big headache foe your agent. 

“Come on, guys! A-B-C-D-E, F-U! And your mom! And your sister! And your job! And your broke-ass car! And that shit you call art! Fuck you and your friends that I'll never see again! Everybody but your dog, you can all fuck off!” You yelled out, cheered by crowd, zeroing your drink that you honestly couldn’t remember the amount of you already had tonight. “Love you all! Fuck him!” Your drunk laugh was probably one of the most disappointing things Hugh has heard in his life.

He finally got in front of the crowd, when you’ve been dancing like your life depended on it to one of Ariana Grande’s song. And then when he was just a step ahead of you, you finally realized who it was.

“Hugh?!” You sounded surprised but not disappointed at all.

The next thing you did though.. it caught him off guard. How you tried to close your face together and only because of his reflex he had stopped you in the process, holding your wrist tightly. If this happened.. it would’ve ended up as a disaster.  A true nail in your coffin considering how many people were recording the whole situation.

“Party’s over, Y/n. I’m getting you out of here.” His tone stern.

“What?! No! I’m just starting!”

“You are not. It’s the opposite, you’re finished, princess.” His arm tried to pull you off the stage but instead he was the one brought up it which was met with cheers and screams. Just freaking perfect.  For a girl who probably couldn’t walk straight you were damn strong. Or maybe it was just him not wanting to hurt you by using full strength.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Hugh Jackman is joining the party!” A forced smile appeared on his lips, not wanting to give away how this all was out of control.

“Thank you for tonight, but unfortunately the party is over! We need to go but it was lovely to meet you all!” A quick damage control when he dragged you down and to the exit in accompaniment of flashes and yells.

“I didn’t finish my drink!” you tried to tell him but he had none of it, his grip on your wrist still tight.

“You had more than enough, Y/n.” In attempt to shield you from all the paparazzi outside, he covered you with his body, walking you like this until you both reached his car. “Get in.”

The drive was rather silent, him focusing on getting you to his place safely while you’ve been trying to stop your head from spinning so much.

“I can go back by myself..” When you got no reaction out of him, you continued. “My place is the other way..”

He sighed, knowing that arguing with you when you're like this is pointless.

“I'm not taking you to yours. You're coming to mine where I can keep an eye on you and ensure you're safe."

Once you two arrived, him helping you out of car, ensuring you won’t stumble over. Steadying you, hand on your waist while gently making you sit on the couch. The way your head fall backwards and your eyes are squeezed tightly, he could tell you probably gonna puke. It was a miracle you haven’t done it in car.

"Are you feeling nauseous at all?" He asked, concern evident in his voice.

But the sound you were making were enough answer. How you tried hard not to do it there.

“I-“

Seeing the signs, Hugh quickly hand you a nearby trashcan, gently guiding it towards your face.

"Go ahead, let it out. You’ll feel better afterward."

He rub your back soothingly, trying to comfort you as you deal with the unpleasant sensation.

“I don’t want to..” But the alco in your stomach is trying to get out more frequently. You won’t be able to hold it longer, no matter how hard you’d have tried to.

“Princess, you have to let it out. Holding it in will only make the nausea worse. It's okay, just let your body do what it needs to do."

And with that you started to puke your guts out, one oh his hands holding your hair, the other gently soothing over you back, trying to give you any comfort and reassurance that it’s alright. Tears rolled down your cheeks, your mascara all over your eyes now.

Once you finish puking, he offered you some water and a tissue to wipe your face.

"Feeling any better? Take your time."

Instead of answering you lay your head on the back of the couch, crying in embarrassment, trying to catch your breath, all events of the night slowly forcing themselves through your cloudy mind.

Your tears streaming down your face made his heart clench, all anger gone by this point. He gently place a hand on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"It's okay, princess. Let it out. Cry if you need to. You're safe here and I'm not going anywhere."

He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around you, trying to provide a sense of warmth and security.

“It’s so embarrassing. I’m so pathetic. I’m sorry.” You stammered out.

He shook his head, voice gentle but firm. "No. It’s not embarrassing, and you’re not pathetic. You made a mistake tonight, yes, but that doesn’t define you. We all make mistakes, it’s part of being human. What matters is that you learn from it and take care of yourself. You should’ve called me  but you’re not alone anymore, okay? I’m here for you, and I’ll support you through this.”

“My head is spinning..” You close your eyes again, trying to focus but without much success. “I’m sorry, Hugh.. I shouldn’t have made you do this for me, shouldn’t have to be your problem.” You recall all the night, or bunch of information that stayed in your mind and you started sobbing even more. “Fuck, so many people had seen me..” it’s clear for him how you’ve started to overthink everything. A light panic attack is on the way from your organism being overwhelmed.

“It’s nothing we can’t deal with later, princess. Now I need you to calm down and breath, in and out, alright?”

He didn’t leave your side even for a second, you swinging back and forth in attempt to get in control again. After you sobered a bit and calmed, your breath steady you tried to talk with him again.

“Sorry for the bother, Hugh..  I’ll pay you back for gas..”

“I don’t fucking care about the gas.” He couldn’t believe that it was your biggest concern now. He  gave your shoulder another gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure you. "Just focus on resting and recovering. We’ll talk more in the morning when you’re feeling better, alright?" He stood up, offering his hand to help you up. "Come on, let’s get you into bed so you can sleep this off."

“W-what? No. I-I should get home, I can call a cab..”

“There is no way I’m letting you walk out of here tonight, let’s make it clear.” The paparazzi had enough of content for one night. “You’re not in any condition to go anywhere right now. You’re tipsy and you need rest. Let me take care of you for tonight, alright? I have a guest room where you can sleep and recover. In the morning, we’ll see how you’re feeling and figure out the next steps."

“Hugh..” The shame which build up inside of you showing up. Especially remembering what you’ve almost done. Kissing him would’ve not only effecting you, but probably ended u being a big mark on his career too.. fuck you were so freaking dumb.. “Why are you even helping me?” Yes, sure he was your long time friend, but picking you completely shit faced from club in the middle of night, getting caught on many records… you definitely weren’t worth the price he’ll pay for it later.  “What have I done to deserve it?” His kindness and care..

Considering all what happened it made him chuckle softly, touched by your question.

“You don’t need to do anything to deserve a friend like me, N/n. That’s not how true friendship works. I’m here for you because I care about you and want to help you, plain and simple. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, right now you need someone to care for you, and I’m honored to be that person." He gave you a gentle smile, hoping to lift your spirits. “Now, come on. Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“I’m serious Hugh.” Your voice most sober now than the full night. “Why me?”

"You have so many qualities that make you a wonderful person. You’re talented, passionate, and kind. You have a great sense of humor and you always know how to make things fun. But most importantly, you’re loyal and genuine, and those are qualities that I greatly cherish in a friend." He paused, studying your expression. "And that’s why I’m here for you now, Y/n. Because I know that you’d be here for me too, if the situation was reversed."

But deep down he knew it wasn’t the full truth. The feelings he had towards you.. obviously he was worried when he found out about your breakup, but some part of him was happy about it. As selfish as he could sound, it gave him a chance. Chance that he has been waiting for so long now. Maybe if you weren’t drunk and fans weren’t recording everything that happened.. he would be more than okay with what you’ve tried to do in the club.

“I won’t change your mind on me staying the night?”

Hugh only chuckled on that, shaking his head. He lead you to the guest room and after giving you one of his shirts and making sure you had everything you needed, he left to finally have some sleep himself.

The next morning you woke up before him. As a form of apology you’ve prepared him a breakfast and fresh coffee, just so he could go through the day after lack of sleep you were responsible for.

"Morning." His voice still groggy but a smile formed on his face, showing the wrinkles that so many fans were crazy for. "You didn’t have to do this, you know."

“Yeah, I wanted to make it up for you.”

He took a seat at the kitchen table, watching you finish up the eggs. "Well, it’s certainly appreciated. Thank you,". A quick study you for a moment, noticing the dark circles under your eyes and the lingering signs of the previous night. "How’re you feeling this morning?"

“Like shit.” You didn’t see a point of lying to him since he had seen you in worse condition. “Been throwing up all night, honestly I’m surprised my guts are still in tact.” A deep sigh left you, while serving the food. “But other than that I’m fine. Bit hangover.” A glass of water and a package of paracetamol being a clear evidence of it. “Gonna be out of you head soon. Used enough of your hospitality.”

“Don’t say that-“

“Seen the posts of my party and you dragging me outside went viral all over the internet.” You bit your lip, knowing how  you’ll have to fall on your knees in attempt to apologize to your manger. Since he hasn’t called you yet, you assumed that before going to bed, Hugh made a few calls here and there.. another thing to be thankful for.

“You’re young, Y/n. You’re allowed to make mistakes-“

“Yes, but not everyone’s fuckups are getting caught by paparazzi.”

“Called Derek.” Here it comes. “He will try to get rid off most of the footage.”

“You know better than me that things like this just don’t magically vanish.”

“People gonna get bored. Follow the next big affair and forget about it in a week.”

You only nodded, not being in any position nor feeling like arguing with the man who literally saved you ass last night.

“As soon as I will do the laundry I’m gonna give it back to you.” Your gaze dropped to the too big tshirt you’re wearing.

“Don’t worry, you can keep it.”

The silence echoed the room, him eating the only sound around. You knew hot you have to apologize for one more thing.

“Listen, Hugh, there is no explanation for what I’ve tried to do, it was inappropriate and-“

“I don’t mind it either.”

What.

“What?”

“I said, I don’t mind.” He looked up from his plate, looking in your eyes.

“But I-“

“Yes, I know what almost happened. Believe me, if we were alone and you weren’t intoxicated.. let’s say, it could’ve ended up other way.” It made you stunned, eyes wide open, your brain not sure if it’s still some drunk daydreaming or the reality. “When you’ve said you two broke up.. I admit I wasn’t as concerned as a good friend should’ve been.”

“I-I don’t think I’m following..”

A low laugh got to your ears and the next thing you knew he was standing next to you, his big posture towering compared to your small body.

“Okay, what if I told you I don’t want to be just friends? That I never wanted? That every time I’ve seen you miserable around him I had to stop myself form kicking his balls and stealing you so his nasty hand couldn’t reach you ever again?”

“Hugh I-“

“And what if I want to finish what you started last night?” His finger cupped your jaw, leaving your lips a bit open. Shit, you looked so fucking good like this. In his clothes, in his home, in his hands. “Would you like that?”

“Fuck, please, yes.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Your lips met in a desperate kiss that was postponed too long for his liking. When you two finally get apart he smirked teasingly. “Knew it would be perfect. No screen kiss ever compares to a real one. So.. Date? Tonight?”

“I-I should talk with Derek..”

“I’ll handle him. Besides we got rid off one issue.. In the end I’m allowed to pick up my girl from the club, ain’t I?”

[ollypopwrites]

Weekly WIP Preview

Got tagged by the wonderful @razildor to share some WIP goodness.

This is a (very rough first draft) bit from a fic I’m working on called Grace and Fervor, which highlights Emmrich’s perspective on falling in love with Mourn Watcher Rook. I’m undecided if it’s going to be explicitly about Vanya Ingellvar.

It features some fun head canons i have about magic and mourn watch stuff!!!

As usual, pls forgive how rough this is. I’m a firm believer in First Drafts just being about getting the words on the screen.

no pressure tagging @flightlessangelwings @bankabb (ART WIPS IFYOU FEEL UP TO ITTTT) and @aldisobey

“Got a bit sidetracked there,” Rook said as they made their way back towards the Veil Jumper camp and the eluvian. “Sorry, Bel.”

“No,” the elf said quickly. “No, that was good! I think I get it now, the Mourn Watch stuff.” She smiled genuinely but sadly, “thanks for doing all of that, I’ll let Irelin know where to find the bodies.” Then she jumped as if she had been shocked by her own electrical magic, “oh! I did want to grab something from the artifact vault, I completely forgot! Damn, and we were just there!” She groaned, “I’m sorry. Can we go back? It’ll be quick!”

“Of course we can,” Rook said easily.

Bellara hurried forward, leading the way back towards the vault. Emmrich stayed a few steps behind with Rook, hands behind his back.

“You did wonderfully with that spirit, Rook,” he complimented. “It pleases me that we can enlighten others on how to prevent Spirits from getting into those knots that make them lash out.”

Rook smiled, genuinely this time. “Me too. There are a lot of spirits here in Arlathan that I think could be set back on their course. The business with the Gods and the Veil, it doesn’t just affect us.”

“Very true.” He agreed. “You know, you would have done well in my Spirit Calling course.”

“I thought about taking Spirit Calling,” she said, “but I didn’t really think I needed to be taught how to do it. And it interfered with a course on Bone-Throwing.”

“I had no idea you dabbled in the divinatory!”

“I haven’t done a good divination ritual in a while. There’s a lot I’ve had to put on the back burner, recently,” she sighed. “Y’know Varric and Harding still think I majored in fortune telling.”

He paused, not wanting to put too much emphasis on her slip up with Master Tethras. The grieving mind sometimes did mix up the semantics, not used to adjusting to the absence.

“Divining is as widely a misunderstood subject as Necromancy,” he said with a sigh. “Yet it is so easily explained, it’s not the future we seek, but traces of messages in the unknown of the Fade. What is your preferred method of throwing?”

“I use my own baby teeth.” Rook grinned. “And any little bits and pieces I find. Arlathan has so many animal bones, I’ve had to restrict myself to one keepsake a trip.” Digging into the bag at her hip, she procured a mesh bag, dozens of little teeth and small bones inside as she shook them.

“Delightful!” Emmrich grinned. “You must show me some time, I admit, I was only ever very talented in scrying.”

“I could never sit still long enough for scrying,” she said, tucking her collection back in her bag.

“You do have a natural way with the Spirits, though, Rook. You ought to hone it. Spirit Calling does not always need to be taught to a mage, but there is something to be said about nurturing natural talent.” He said.

“Right.” She smiled, another tight lipped one that was more out of politeness than anything else. “But… they’re your specialty. That’s what we have you here for, isn’t it?”

He had done something wrong. Yet, he couldn’t figure out what. But he felt it as she pushed ahead, the ease of conversation abruptly ruined as she avoided looking back at him or engaging in any further discussion.

It was no wonder the others found his presence unsettling, when Rook herself seemed to be unable to decide whether she was comfortable with him being there or not. She flipped wildly from eagerly discussing home with him to seeming as if she couldn’t be as far away as possible. A brick in the wall would wiggle, slip out of place so he could peer through and then she would swiftly turn tail and run.

He had hoped her presence and influence would be a comfort to him, another Watcher so far from home when most never wandered too far. That had not been the case, thus far.

[cate-eblanchett]

Cate sat propped against the headboard, the warmth of the coffee mug seeping into her palms as she cradled it, her blue eyes fixed on Jenna with a mixture of gratitude and relief for seeing her next to her. The husky tone in Jenna’s voice, the gentle teasing made Cate smile, there was certain feeling of easiness knowing she was there. The blonde smiled despite the heaviness still accumulated in her chest. She felt the brush of Jenna’s fingers against her own, the quiet reassurance of her touch, and it made her shiver slightly, pulling her back from the edge of the fear that had haunted her sleep—that she’d wake to an empty bed, to a silence that meant goodbye. When Jenna sat up, Cate’s gaze followed her, tracing the familiar lines of her frame as she moved. Her confession—that she’d needed space but had always intended to return—eased a knot in Cate’s stomach she hadn’t realized was there. She nodded faintly, her fingers tightening around the mug as Jenna kept talked, Cate didn´t even dare to breathe and interrupt Jenna´s thoughts that were being expressed with all honestly and Cate wanted to hear everything attentively and understand and admit her own mistakes. Cate’s throat ache. She watched her girlfriend’s expressions and how she was caught off guard in the most unexpected and almost cruel way.

Every word sinking in with a clarity that cut through the haze of the previous night. Jenna’s honesty—the hurt, the vulnerability, the way she laid her heart bare—Cate felt the sting of guilt anew, knowing she’d made Jenna question her place, her significance, in a moment that should have been shared, not stumbled into. Her eyes dropped to the mug in her hands, her thumb tracing the rim as Jenna’s words washed over her. The australian could draw in her head too many scenarios but when Jenna finally said that she wasn’t going anywhere, that she’d stay, that she’d help—unraveled the last of Cate’s defenses. Cate´s eyes widened and looked up to her, she pressed her lips together trying to contain the emotions that began flowing and the relief that made her remember how to breath properly. Cate squeezed her hand, firmly, feeling how tears were about to run down her cheeks.

She set her mug on the bedside table with a shaky hand, turning fully to face Jenna, her expression open, unguarded. “I’m so sorry” she began, her voice low and thick with emotion. “Not just for how it came out, but for making you feel like an afterthought. You’re not—you never could be. You’re everything to me, Jenna, and I should’ve trusted that instead of letting fear choke it all up inside me but at the same time, I felt guilty, because this was a plan that started with someone else, and then, when I finally had you, when we finally started this... I felt the greatest thing and the idea of losing it paralized me” She swallowed hard, her hand tightening around Jenna’s in return. “I’ve been thinking about this little girl for months—before we were official, I didn´t even know this would happen, i started the process almost two years ago, and suddenly, she was mine, without even know i still wanted it. something I didn’t even dare say out loud but it was happening. She’s two, and she’s… she’s this tiny, brave thing who’s already been through so much. I saw her picture, and it was like something clicked—I knew she was mine. I couldn´t steal away the opportunity of a better life with me, with my children, with you” she softened her voice when she included Jenna in the equation. Cate’s lips curved into a small, tremulous smile, her eyes bright with a mix of nerves and joy. “It’s happening soon—it was planned for next month, but apparently, they will let me take her with me sooner than we thought, I’ve been meeting with the agency, sorting out the paperwork, getting her room ready… God, I’ve wanted to tell you so badly, but every time I tried, I’d look at you and think, ‘What if this is too much? What if I scare her away?’ She shook her head, “I was an idiot. I should’ve known you’d be here, but, darling I didn´t know if you’d… that you’d want to be part of it because I know how crazy this is! my children think i am insane, my mom thinks the same. They are the only ones to know and now you, my love, my partner, my everything” she whispered and she leaned forward then, resting her forehead against Jenna’s, her breath mingling with hers in the quiet space between them. “I want you in this, Jenna—every step. I want us to figure it out together, to make it ours if you’ll have it. Vivienne is going to need so much love, and I´d love you to meet her soon, and help me to bring her home, I named her Vivienne..." Her voice broke slightly, but she pressed on, her hand sliding up to cup Jenna’s cheek. “and i promise you are going to fall in love with her" she said with her voice cracking and still against Jenna´s forehead. She closed her eyes and softly whispered "Thank you… for staying, for listening, for not letting me ruin this. I love you—more than I know how to say.” Cate pulled back just enough to meet Jenna’s eyes, her own shimmering with unshed tears "I love you"

A tired grin hovered on Jenna’s lips as she heard the husk of Cate’s voice; there was comfort in it. She let her fingers trail over the ones caressing her arm. “kinda reminds me exactly why I don’t usually mix drinks,” she lightly joked, her gaze semi-defeated but never moving her attention away. Jenna bit her lip and sat up against the headboard, the sheet slipping slightly from her shoulder. Despite the shift, their closeness remained intact.

She didn’t know whether to be saddened by the sheer idea that the blonde had an inkling she’d wake up in an empty bed, wake up to the fear that Jenna had left. “Hey—” Jenna’s brows furrowed as she reached out, her hand landing over Cate’s lap in a gesture of comfort. She knew that despite leaving reassurance, it never entirely registered. “I just needed to let us both think straight—something I know neither of us could’ve done last night had i not given you the space. But not for a second was I ever not going to come back.” as her frown still remained, she let the sighing breath ease her hand away as she moved up from the edge of the bed and over by the coffee machine Jenna pushed back the covers, stretching before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m making us both coffee first, okay?” she said, her tone light, but the undercurrent of exhaustion still lingered. “Normally, I’d rather drink tap water than hotel coffee, but even I have to humble myself sometimes.” She hummed, glancing over her shoulder at Cate, her expression soft and reassuring. A few minutes later, Jenna returned across the room, moving toward the bed with two mugs in hand. She handed one to Cate, offering a small, reassuring smile. “le voici, bébé,” she murmured, pressing her lips together before settling back against the headboard, legs folded beneath her. Jenna exhaled softly, keeping a firm grip on her cup as she blew on the surface before taking a sip. “So—before you say anything, I want you to just listen,” she said, her tone steady but gentle. “I spent a lot of time thinking about this last night—about everything. And I think it’s best if you hear me out first." taking a beat, her face fell toward's the other woman She paused, gripping her cup a little tighter.

“I was hurt, Cate—I didn’t understand why I reacted the way I did at first. But then it dawned on me… it wasn’t that I thought you were putting responsibility on me. I know this is your decision, something i imagine you’ve wanted for a long time by the sounds of it . And I respect that. But the way it came out last night—it felt like an afterthought, like something casually thrown into the air instead of something we could actually talk about. It made me wonder where I fit into all of this.” She took a slow breath, her gaze steady now. “Because if this is going to work, Cate, I need to feel like I matter in your life—not just when it’s convenient, but in the moments that truly shape it.” It was known that Jenna disliked confrontations of any sort, but this didn’t entirely feel like she was comforting the blonde. It felt like she was placing her heart right in front of her — showing her that vulnerability didn’t have to be a risk, that it could still come with safety. "so, then I wondered between all that... how would I have reacted had you told me without the tension, or the liquid courage? Would I have still been shocked? Confused? Of course. But I imagine it would’ve been different. It would’ve just taken listening—listening to your reasoning, knowing a lot of this was already in process… I imagine, before we were officially a thing? I know adoptions don’t just happen overnight —— But not for one second would I ever make you choose. That wouldn’t even cross my mind. But I know you, and I know why that worry line between your brows is there.” Jenna’s tone lightened as she pointed it out, offering a small, knowing smile. "You and I, we're in this very fortunate position in life where I know the idea of you bringing this little girl into your life is something you want deeply, knowing you can. But you know, despite the unfortunate way I had to find out, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, and I'm staying. And don't think for a second you're not allowed to ask me for help, 'cause newsflash, babe, I'm helping anyway." She reached toward Cate’s free hand, giving it a firm squeeze.As her other hand held the coffee she'd been sipping on, Jenna eventually placed it down on the dresser. "Now... say what you wish, but know I really want to know more about this. I want to know when, and I want to know every detail about this major part of your life."

[gailynovelry]

I don’t like getting intense over petty things, but why are people calling large paragraphs “bad formatting” now. It’s just formatting. Sometimes, a larger paragraph serves its text well, and sometimes it doesn’t, and there is a LOT more that goes into making a text block readable than length alone.

Please please please fucking please stop inventing all-encompassing arbitrary rules about what features define “good” art and “bad” art.