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#but also that paper was about my personality and this one is on theory so it’s harder to bullshit

janmisali · 1 year

Note

what do you think of tone indicators in general?

unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.

speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.

the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.

the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.

most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.

tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.

and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.

it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.

sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.

in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.

however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?

so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.

also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult

#tone indicators #jan misali

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kcrossvine-art · 10 months

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G'morning all! Its nice to get back things,. Theres been some roadblocks with med shortages and life, and also with the material for these recipes. So far we've covered a lot of pastries, not because theyre mentioned more often in the series, but because being mentioned lends them more specificity in flavor than things like gravy, peas, or various meats. The latter can be prepped, seasoned, and served in so many different ways that it feels harder to make them 'faithfully' because a packet of instant potato mash is just as faithful as a pot of buttered potato mash. Baked goods tend towards 1, maybe 2, 'base' recipes that get altered and added to.

Today, we'll be making Beorn's Honey Cakes! A dish from one of my partners favorite characters- a delectable little treat befitting the… warm personality of the character.

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Beorn's Honey Cakes?” YOU MIGHT ASKSimple stuff! Simple sweet stuff!

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Ground nutmeg

Unsalted butter

Whole milk

2 eggs

Honey

Vanilla extract

The veins of honey cakes ancestry can be traced back to any moment where people began baking bread. Honey is a natural preservative, and sweeter still on its lonesome.

AND, “what does Beorn's Honey Cakes taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKLike your aching muscles repairing themselves

Tastes like a honey graham cracker

But the texture is softer, wetter- somewhat like banana bread

Oh, and this will make your house smell So So Good

If you can resist the temptation of eating them immediately, they taste even richer the day after baking

Would pair well with milk green tea

Would also pair well with fresh orange slices (or those chocolate 'orange slices' candy)

Genuinely don't forget to flip them upside down when they go to bake the second time, not sure what it is but i was curious and did a test where i flipped half of the batch upside down and kept the other half of the batch right-side up like they cooked in the muffin tin. The ones i flipped upside down universally had a more consistent texture and the honey was able to permeate further.

.where honey called for, used clover honey

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

From start to finish this recipe takes about an hour of work, give or take some negligible time for prep.

The batter is perhaps the babybird of all cake batters. The gloopy, protruding crumbs of butter, not unlike a squabs beady pupils visibly dark under its skin, break up the mass of sickly smooth and reassuringly sweet-smelling oak-colored liquid. You can feel the confusion of bees outside your home, wondering if this your attempt at making royal jelly.

Just like a babybird, it becomes more than the sum of its parts. Layer on that honey drizzle, layer it on thick, theres no risk of drowning subtle flavors. Its crisp edges will keep its form, springy and warm, inviting you as if you're not the one who crafted it (food you didn't cook always tastes better). The bees are sooooooooooooooo jealous of your opposable thumbs and muscular strength.

If you dont have eggs you could try substituting with apple mash. I can't vouch for it in this recipe but replacing eggs with mashed up apples for pancakes gives it adds a nice fruity flavor without changing the texture, and in theory should work here as well.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.)

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

270 grams all-purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg

1 stick unsalted butter

160 grams milk

2 eggs

110 grams your favorite honey

1 tsp vanilla extract

Muffin tray and parchment paper

Method:

Preheat oven to 350f

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg.

Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

In a small bowl beat the eggs until just combined. Pour in milk and then vanilla extract while stirring. Keep stirring vigorously while slowly pouring in honey.

Stir until the mixture is consistent in color.

Pour the liquids over the dry mixture and stir until just combined.

Pour the batter into a greased muffin tray, don't use any muffin paper/lining/cups.

Bake for 16 minutes, or until they reach their full height.

Carefully remove from the muffin pan and place the muffins upside down on a parchment lined tray.

Using a silicone pastry brush, generously cover the tops of the cakes with honey. Allow to sit for about 5 minutes to let the honey soak into the cakes.

Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

#cross cooks lotr #tolkein #the hobbit #food recipe

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vaspider · 1 year

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youve got a lot of really great thoughts on a transphobia and homophobia, tbh more critical thinking than most people on here, and i was wondering how much you knew about the theory of rapid onset gender dysphoria/if youd be comfortable sharing your thoughts on the ridiculous idea

It was explicitly invented by transphobes as a means of delegitimizing trans identity, and that invention was backed up by a "study" in which the person running the study never spoke to any trans people or to any professionals providing care for trans people, only spoke to the parents of trans minors, and those parents were specifically recruited from forums for anti-trans parents.

The paper which supposedly coined ROGD was taken down for a while and corrected. Further studies have found no basis for ROGD.

What's really interesting is in the cache of emails which became public earlier this year from a former detransitioner there's a paper trail which pretty clearly indicates that the term was actually created on a very heinous website called 4th/wave/now (forgive my anti-search slashes, these people are awful) well prior to the study.

Hey, you want to guess where the parents for this study were recruited from? If you guessed "the one where the term was invented," you're right!

But wait, there's more!

It appears from the journalistic work done by Mother Jones, Jude Doyle, and Julia Serano, that this term was created by an anti-trans activist who works extensively with right-wing think tanks and who went to great lengths to hide that she invented the term.

Jude Doyle:

Finding anti-trans narratives that would “sell” to the general public was a constant concern for this crowd, and Shupe says it didn’t much matter if the narratives were based in fact or not. Marchiano, for instance, eagerly watched the spread of the ROGD theory — “[transfeminist writer and researcher Julia] Serano has already written a takedown,” she exulted in one August 2018 email. Shupe suspects Marchiano’s role is larger than the public knows: “Marchiano never explicitly said she is the inventor of ROGD, but the evidence points to her, and she’s listed as a contributor to the [Lisa Littman] study on PLOS One,” she writes to me. “My ‘opinion’ is that Marchiano and the 4thWaveNow folks are behind the ROGD study, and Littman merely fronted it for them to make it appear unbiased.”

Jude Doyle again:

On July 2, Shupe sent Marchiano a link to Jones’ blog post telling her “you’ve upset Zinnia again.” (Shupe had a tendency to send Marchiano news of ROGD, and to attribute the theory to “you” — that is, to Marchiano — whether Marchiano was explicitly named or not. In the communications I’ve reviewed, Marchiano does not reject the attribution.) Marchiano responded by saying that Jones had done something to “make her nervous” — namely, she’d dug up a blog post about ROGD that Marchiano had written under her own name.

Julia Serano:

If all of this is true — that Marchiano ran YCTP and invented ROGD — then it would follow that Marchiano was also likely skepticaltherapist, the supposed parent of a trans child who invented the idea of “transgender social contagion” in the first place.

Julia Serano again:

Also on March 15, 2016, at 6:07am (so very early in the day, likely before the aforementioned YTCP piece is published), skepticaltherapist posts her final comment on 4thwavenow before mysteriously disappearing. In a reply to someone named Starrymessenger, skepticaltherapist says: 'I wanted to mention that this month’s Psychotherapy Networker is focusing on trans youth issues, and the tone of each article is uncritically celebratory — lots of mentions of “courage,” and “bravery.” You may need a subscription or at least an account to comment, but I have so far.'

At the time of this comment, "Lisa" is the *only* person to have posted a comment on this particular Psychotherapy Networker article, as the 2nd comment doesn't appear until later that evening (7:30:15 PM on March 15th; both 4thwavenow & Psychotherapy Networker appear to be based in the U.S., so the should be only a few hours apart, if at all). Therefore, "Lisa" and skepticaltherapist must be the same person.

Did you catch all of that?

This is a fraudulent "diagnosis" explicitly invented by an anti-trans psychologist who at times has used sockpuppets to manipulate online conversations, claimed at times to be the mother of a trans child, or maybe it was her friend who had the trans child, or maybe she just knew somebody who just randomly decided he was a trans boy after going on tumblr. (Boy, does Lisa Marchiano hate Tumblr, lol.)

After inventing this diagnosis and pushing it on a forum for parents who don't like that they have trans kids, Marchiano then approaches a different researcher and uses this other researcher to launder this term, launching it into the verbal stratosphere, while explicitly working with right-wing groups who used this "evidence" to manufacture anti-trans bills. This list of right-wing groups and individuals includes the Alliance Defending Freedom, the "American College of Pediatricians," -- not to be confused with the American Academy of Pediatrics, the legitimate organization, ACPeds is a fringe right-wing group.

They literally made all of this up, this idea that transmasculine people specifically are being "infected" by online sources, and then they laundered it through a shitty study and tried to hide the laundering they did, so that shit like this can happen:

The president of the American Principles Project, a member of the coalition, recently told the New York Times that his group’s goal is to eliminate all transition care, starting with children because that’s “where the consensus is.”

This isn't about protecting children or any bullshit like that, and it's not about this fallacious "disorder" because it doesn't exist -- and they know it doesn't exist. They know it doesn't exist because they were the ones who made it up.

Like... what else is there to say? It's like if I made up Purple Big Toe Disease and claimed that all people taller than 5'10" and born on a Tuesday have Purple Big Toe Disease and should not be able to buy aspirin, because it's G-d's plan that people who have Purple Big Toe Disease should not prevent themselves from feeling the pain that G-d has planned for them, and then I asked someone to write a paper about PBTD and pretend I wasn't the one who made it up so I could point at the paper and be like le gasp, PBTD is the number one problem! We need to stop everyone over 5'10" and born on a Tuesday from being able to buy aspirin! And then some dude in South Dakota starts writing up bills in consultation with a bunch of Evangelical lawyers to deny basic health care to people over 5'10" and born on Tuesdays.

If it sounds fucking ridiculous, it's because it is.

#trans issues #the lie of ROGD

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hamliet · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel Has Better Theology Than Most Modern "Christian" Stories

As a Christian who was raised in a fundie cult and escaped to now have a far healthier and vital faith, I genuinely really like this show. The songs are bops. The characters are well crafted and interesting, and likable too. The art design is bizarre but appealing.

And, as a theology nerd who studied theology as part leaving said cult and also has since gotten papers published in theology, I'm actually fairly impressed by the show's handling of theology.

No, I'm not expecting the story to preach or even like, be explicitly Christian in a lot of ways. But it's taking a lot of the really beautiful aspects of Christian theology and re-contextualizing them in a way designed to provoke thought: by juxtaposing them with the antithesis of what you would think, by making demons heroes. In my opinion, this makes the beauty shine brighter.

Yeah, yeah, it's designed to be offensive and obscene in a lot of ways. Yet, it's never (thus far) mean-spirited. On the contrary, it seems to have a big, beating heart at its core that is perhaps best embodied by Charlie Morningstar, its protagonist and the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith.

Critique of the Church, with Caveats

The story works best with an interpretation that heaven isn't actually heaven or God (who has been conspicuously absent), but instead as a critique of the church. Specifically, the evangelical American church, and specifically, white evangelicals. (Same as She-Ra's premise, actually).

God's absence therefore makes sense, because while Christians do believe God is present as a living reality among us, we also can't like, see him physically now. So, God being not even mentioned in HH makes it seem more like a mortal reality rather than an immortal one. Honestly I kinda hope God doesn't appear in the story, not only because I think it could cross some lines (which is admittedly personal), but also because I don't see that the story really needs it.

Adam in particular reminds me of every "theobro" on Twitter (I'm not calling it what you want me to, El*n). Basically a dudebro coopting his supposed salvation to flex in an often misogynistic way, who doesn't realize that he has absolutely no love in him and therefore is actually a worse human being than everyone he condemns on the regular.

(Which is kind of why I'm expecting Adam to wake up in hell next season...)

Think red hats. And Mark Driscoll. And, I have a list of pastors. Sigh. They advocate for how "simple" Christianity is, except they themselves make it ridiculously complicated and don't even examine what they suppose is "simple" if it requires them to take the planks out of their own eyes. "Shallow" is a better description of what they actually preach.

But what sends people to hell or heaven anyways?

Eschatology and Atonement Theory

Hazbin Hotel combines a lot of theories, throwing not only the idea of a physical hell (albeit mixed with Dante's idea of what hell is the Inferno, but to be fair a lot of the church has adopted that idea too) but the idea of annihilation, which HH calls "extermination."

See, in Christianity, there's a lot of debate about hell. Like, since 2000 years ago. The reason is because a lot of Bible verses seem to indicate hell, but others indicate the eventual redemption and salvation of absolutely everything in the universe, so you have Christian universalism tracing itself back just as long. But, setting aside universalism, people who do believe in hell tend to fall into one of two camps:

Physical hell, aka suffering for eternity, or annihilation: the idea that souls that aren't saved end up annihilated, or snuffed from existence. HH combines both of them, wherein everyone lives in hell but then every so often heaven "exterminates" a certain number of sinners.

And then you also have Catholic purgatory, which is also adapted in HH in that... for most Christians, physical hell doesn't offer the ability to redeem yourself. Chance over, you're dead. But, Catholic Christianity, which draws on ideas of praying for the dead, has the idea that people can improve themselves or be prayed out of it and into heaven. This seems to be somewhat similar to the idea of Charlie's hotel, in that sinners can improve, redeem themselves, and rise to heaven.

And, I mean, it's already kinda worked. Sir Pentious acted out Jesus' words: Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).

But anyways, the branch of theology that deals with the afterlife is eschatology. And Hazbin Hotel takes on a related form of theology as well, a type of theology I've only seen covered in stories once before (The House in Fata Morgana): atonement theory.

Atonement theory is something I remember well from my theology 101 class, as in I remember sitting with a friend and her turning to me and being like, "okay, so we know Jesus' death and resurrection give us eternal life, but we have no idea how or why?" To which the answer was "basically, yeah."

Most of the white, American evangelical church is very "penal substitutionary atonement," but the reality is that this theory has only been popular for the past few hundred years. It's also, imo, somewhat scripturally unsound. But there are a lot of other theories, and sometimes the theories overlap. Here's a fairly decent summary. (I'm in general a believer in Christus Victor.)

So how does atonement theory tie into Hazbin Hotel? Well, essentially the scene where Charlie and Vaggie are debating with Emily, Sera, Adam, Lute, and others in heaven is them going over various atonement theories and realizing that they actually know nothing at all. How does one get to heaven? How is one saved? They don't know.

Sera criticizing Emily for asking questions was also very relatable, and I feel for Sera. She's genuinely scared but the truth will set you free, Sera. John 8:32. Anyways, the point is like... the angels are an organized religion, an evangelical church, that preaches about simplicity but mistakes shallowness for simplicity and discourages depth and discovery.

Anyways, the whole crux of theological study and atonement theories is that they should promote humility. We don't know for certain on this side of the curtain. That's okay. So what do we have to guide us?

Love. After all, God is love (1 John 4:8).

Charlie is Jesus

"Why would you endanger your immortal life for these sinners?"

Adam, the absolute worst, says the above to Charlie in the finale.

I mean... look. That's literally the premise of Christianity. That the immortal son of God comes down to earth, lives with sinners, loves us, and dies to save us. However that happens. Charlie even responds:

"They're my family!"

In other words, she loves them. Yeah, sure, they're destined for extermination, but they are going to be exterminated over her dead body.

In a lot of branches of Christianity, and even in some creeds--though I'm going to give into my pet peeves here and state that it is NOT Scriptural and relies on the faulty assumption that God is bound by time, when I think God exists outside of it--state that Jesus descended into hell after his death and took all the souls of people who were saved prior to his coming to earth to heaven. Again, I think that's small-minded at best. But, the idea that Charlie is working among them to bring them to heaven is pretty reminiscent of this idea. And I don't hate it lol.

Charlie sees worth inherent in everyone, and no matter what they've done, thinks there's a future for them. Honestly we need people like her on this earth.

Angel Dust

Angel Dust is clearly my favorite character. Bite back your shock, I know (I have a type). But his name is also a fascinating multi-layered pun.

Angel is clearly foreshadowing his endgame. Let's be real, we all know Angel is ending up as an angel. And "angeldust" is of course a name for PCP, and considering Angel's drug habits, yeah.

But, dust also has another meaning to it. See, when Adam was created in Genesis 2:7, the words in Hebrew are "apar min ha'adamah," which is translated literally as "dust of the ground." So the dust is what creates Adam, literally "ground."

In other words, I very much expect Angel Dust to end up being foiled with Adam even more so. Adam might be the first man, but Angel is the first sinner working towards redemption. And let's be real, for all Angel's flaws, he's already a better person than Adam. And if there's any hope for Adam (not that I particularly care if there is but) it'd be through realizing that he and Angel aren't actually different after all. Conversely (and not necessarily mutually exclusively), Angel might serve as a more symbolic "adam" in that he becomes the person all sinners look to for hope. Which, y'know, since "the last Adam" is also a Scriptural term for Jesus...

And so it is written, “The first man Adam became a living being.” The last Adam became a life-giving spirit. (1 Corinthians 15:45).

I fully expect Angel's arc, alongside Charlie's, to bring life and redemption for everyone around them. Maybe, maybe even the dramatic "all" of Colossians 1:20 (which means, literally, all, everything, everywhere, in the entire universe).

Closing Thoughts

But honestly, regardless of how the story ends--besides that it will presumably end happily because HH is at its core feel-good despite being profane--season one at least has got good theology. Why? Because it's digging into the questions that theology is concerned with. It's digging into the ideas of human nature, of what it means to be a good person, of what it means to redeem oneself, of affirming how precious each individual human soul is.

It doesn't offer cheap answers, and it specifically calls out the white American evangelical church for how it purports to be simple but actually just confuses people and punishes them for things they can't help, that creates more stumbling blocks than it does shine a light. And it does it in a way that is scandalous. Offensive to many religious people.

But, y'know, Jesus was pretty scandalous too.

So I really love the story so far because it emphasizes what I find so beautiful about my religion, and criticizes the parts that have also hurt me. I don't think it's remotely aiming to be a Christian allegory or anything like that, and I don't at all think anyone has to be religious to enjoy it or gain the core message of it, but I do think that it's doing a hell of a lot more good in the world message-wise than most evangelical movies of the past 30 years.

#hazbin hotel #hamliet reviews #theology #christianity #charlie morningstar #jesus #angel dust #angel hazbin hotel

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lovingksuki · 6 months

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✰ SECRET ADMIRER

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

a/n: this is part one of three. let me know if you want this mini series to be continued :) and pls be patient since english is not my first language hehe ;;

word count: 1k

"oh c'mon! what if there's a heart shaped letter in your locker? you never know..."

"there's not."

"you can't be so certain about it. my girl is never looking her surroundings, who knows if someone got their heart pierced by an arrow?" mina pointed.

"shut up, every year the same thing..." you rushed and right after turning the corridor you captured by distance. "ok. maybe you were right." you said finding the metal compartment half closed.

then you grabbed the red paper in her hands, paying attention to the almost dry daisy taped lazily on the front; glanced around not spotting anything or anyone suspicious about it, then turned to your best friend.

"i got a feeling you're part of this." spurred.

"whoa, i was joking just now! even i am chocked. who's the sender?" the pink colored girl held her hands up in protest.

"i don't know, there's only my name." you stated carefully sticking the little flower out.

"let me search for a hint." mina took the letter from your hands suddenly, mumbling while quickly skimming through the words looking for something useful. she gasped before smirking at the content and then continued mumbling.

"enjoying yourself!?" you sighed waiting.

"mkay, done." handed the letter. "nothing between the lines. who wrote this sure is smart enough to not leak their identity."

"that's for me to decide. you ain't the smartest kind." you chuckled.

"hey!"

"more like the pretty girl type."

"you sly thing! you received a love letter, who's the pretty girl again?" both laughed at the statement and headed out to the cafeteria. "not reading it?"

"can't think when i am this hungry. we should hurry."

at the lunchtime the subject was the same. you two were discussing with your mouths full, sitting by yourselves on a table far enough from eavesdropping.

"hear me out. there's this line that seems to be rewritten over and over, it's a bit tattered." you mentioned. "it says: 'i'm still hesitant about what you think about me' and thanks to the pressure they put on paper seems to be 'afraid of who i am' underneath."

"adds a lot of nothing to our investigation. that's what everybody would say in a confession, i mean, nobody likes being dumped." pinky pointed out unfazed.

"yeah but, i don't think it's meaningless, what if this person is truly insecure about themselves." you pondered.

"or they're just ugly." mina chewed on her meal.

"i don't think that's the case... remember when you told me that thing you read about pretty boys' handwriting?" you brought up.

"did you actually believe that!? was just a discussion in a girl's meme forum." the pink one remarked.

"but there's some truth behind it. if you consider that people with a smaller hand can grip on a pen better when writing, also means the ones with big hands tend to have a sloppier handwriting!" you stated confident about your theory.

"girl, you're tripping... does this mean we're going across the school measuring boys' hands?" mina smirked unconvinced.

"precisely."

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

"what a fucking waste of time..." said raging.

"dude, calm down. at least you poured your feelings out..." eijiro reassured his bestfriend trying to point out the bright side of things.

but while he's the bright side, katsuki was the dark side. they say a good relationship is based in balance, in this case it makes total sense.

"you even checked if she read it?" asked the red haired.

"when she and mina walked by me at the corridor they were whispering and giggling like little lambs. probably laughing at that letter though." pouted.

"you're being paranoid, they're always like that."

"they're up to something..." bakugo murmured.

whilst the two struggled to put up with the 'plan cupid', the other two were constructing the 'plan pretty boy's handwriting'.

"as i was saying, a pencil has six inches approximately, we're looking for a hand as big at least. if we measure our hands we can compare with theirs without them noticing." stated grabbing a pen off her case.

"you're truly a genius. i refuse to accept you failed strategic test last week." mina complimented.

"i was in a really bad mood that day... anyway!" justified while traced her own hand in a empty page of mina's notebook. "fifteen centimeters. do yours and we're good to go!" demanded agitated.

when looking for friends of theirs, the girls pretended to just have a walk around the school.

"what if it was a girl?" mina asked suddenly.

"i doubt. how many girls with large hands do we know?" claimed.

"mmm... asui-san?"

"you've got to be kidding...!" pulled her phone and dialed quickly a number. "hey!" you smiled. "no, nothing really urgent, i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?" questioned without any filter.

"girl you gone mad?" mina whispered holding back a laughter.

"uh, ok. anyways, thank you. we talk later, kisses!" you hung up. "see? that's not her."

"woah you're so straightforward! it scares me sometimes..."

the boys exited the restroom still discussing, but when the blondie heard a certain voice he stepped back. pulled eijiro's tie to hide behind a pillar with him. "shut it!" mouthed.

"i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?"

"uh, ok."

his face started to burn as he became more anxious. could only hear a few words, enough to bring the boy into complete state of panic.

after the girls left he released his breath.

"stop overthinking! she just received a love letter, of course she's curious!" kirishima said.

"i didn't say anything, shitty-hair!"

"your face shows!" sighed. "seriously, how can she be so oblivious? just look at you! you're terrible at hiding."

"i- i... she doesn't even talk to me that often..." katsuki pitied.

"bro, you're not the friendliest around here. but she doesn't seem to be afraid of you." kiri pondered. "have you ever tried to smile?"

he looked at the red spiked guy and opened a shy smile.

"a bit more."

every time bakugo tried to put on smiling face it looked creepy. "be more genuine." said eijiro.

trying his best, but even with so much effort... his buddy analyzed. "ok. it looks absolutely terrifying."

"shit."

#mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo x reader #self insert #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n

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suki-daydreams · 7 months

Text

You're Glowing

IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED S2 THE HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC OF JUJUTSU KAISEN LEAVE RIGHT NOW !!

summary : a year after the failed mission with involving riko amanai, yu haibara died on a mission, and geto left gojo to pursue his dream of killing all non sorcerers. you along with gojo, nanami, utahime, and shoko try your best to cope with everything that's going on. gojo wants comfort, but he also wants to be alone. so, he should go be lonely with you.

tw : mentions of geto losing weight, mentions of the world 'kill', a gun is used in this

info : past arc gojo x reader, reader is a sorcerer, angst, comfort, fluff, gojo satoru x reader, teen gojo x reader, lonely gojo, reader ily, reader same age as gojo, soft gojo, cuddling, reader is also best friends with gojo, suguru, and shoko. reader is an ex assassin. angst to fluff

this is not a geto x reader! or gojo x reader x geto they are best friends - this is only a gojo x reader thank u <3

suki's notes : inspired by the song This Side of Paradise by Coyote Theory (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ ... i've been writing SO MUCH baker reader x gojo. needed to twist it up

this is really fucking loooong because of the buildup my bad y'all

enjoy ~

___

You are the only person Gojo would allow himself to become vulnerable with.

___

Nanami passed out exhausted on a hospital bed. Overwhelmed Shoko sitting on a chair. Utahime resting her head on a desk. Yaga rummaging through papers to file. And Gojo... is no where to be seen.

You are a 3rd year.

You had been trained to be an assassin since you were 6. Your whole life you had been killing people for those who are too weak or too much of a coward to do it, and you'd get paid A LOT.

But, you became a jujutsu sorcerer because you didn't want to be a murderer anymore. So, you started fresh as a first year at jujutsu high when you turned 15 to come to clean living and so you could protect non sorcerers. Hoping it would be enough for all the lives you've took.

You had thought, oh I got trained at a young age. I'm probably more experienced, I got this. Your first year went great, you made friends and many memories. Everything was going great! Until your second year and third year came around.

You were quick on your feet and silent too. There are very few people who are faster than you. You had heard of Toji, known as the sorcerer killer and many other names, he was one of the best assassins. And, he was one of the rare people who could sneak past you.

When Riko got assassinated, you were there with Geto.

Gojo told you to leave with Amanai immediately while he handled Toji. You trusted Satoru, but he was sleep deprived, exhausted from keeping his technique on for days and nights.

"He has a heavenly restriction!" You yelled to Satoru before leaving with Geto and Amanai. You escorted her until you and Geto were forbidden to walk any further. When she finally realized she wanted to live for herself. She was shot in the head. You registered what happened in less than a second.

You turned around to take action and leaped towards Toji, but he was fast. Too fast. The assassin had already come up behind you and hit you straight in the nape. Knocking you unconscious.

And when you woke up, everything was already over. You weren't quick enough. If you didn't let your guard down. Amanai would still be alive.

When Yu died, you were one of the firsts to find out- besides Shoko of course.

But, when Geto massacred the village, you were the first to find out.

It crushed you.

Because you were the first and only person Geto talked to about his change in morals.

"Y/n.." his voice was soft. You and him were grabbing a snack in the cafeteria after somehow managing to run into each other at the dorms past midnight.

"Yea?" You replied, grabbing a bag of chips.

"What do you think about.. non sorcerers?" He asked, you hummed.

"Well.." you said, "I don't know.. it's complicated."

"How so?"

"First of all, I don't blame them for not having cursed energy, that's just simply how you're born. It's genetics, passed down from generations. It's out of their control. But, when I was an assassin I just saw them as weak, they paid me to do the things they can't or because they're too much of a coward to do it, sounds pretty worthless- know what I mean?" you said, "but, sometimes as a sorcerer, I feel under appreciated? I don't know how to say it.."

You looked at him, "we save the world, we save non sorcerers, and they don't even know. They live everyday like usual while we place our lives on the line to defeat a curse.. to make sure a curse doesn't kill another innocent person. At least when I was an assassin, I was paid as a reward, but non sorcerers-"

"Curses comes from them." He said, you tilted your head.

"What?"

"Curses come from negative emotions, emotions from non sorcerers-"

"I would say they come from all humans, including sorcerers, not just non sorcerers, Suguru," you replied, he looked away mumbling a quiet 'whatever'. You reached up and put a hand on his shoulder making him flinch at your touch.

"Suguru, why are you asking me this?" You asked, he sighed and crouched down making you step back from his sudden change in position.

"I think.. I'm starting to hate them.. y/n," he whispered.

"What?"

"I said I think-"

"I heard you!!" You whispered yelled, "Suguru, you were the one who said that non sorcerers need protection, and we, the sorcerers, are here to protect them!"

"I know, I know..." he said, "but, that's changed."

You crouched down and looked at his features. He lost weight, he hasn't been eating, and hasn't been sleeping either. You were worried, something was bothering him. Something changed him. So, when he said that he hates non sorcerers, you knew that was the thing that was eating him up.

"After Riko's death and now Yu's... seeing how they died for non sorcerers because they're weak and can't do anything for themselves-"

"Suguru, they can't see curses, they don't have cursed energy, they can't do anything-"

"Listen to me y/n," he said putting a hand on your shoulder, "if non sorcerers didn't exist. There would be less curses."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm trying to say.." then he stopped. What he wanted to say was, "I'm trying to say that I want to kill all non sorcerers."

But he couldn't bring himself to say it, not with you.

He cleared his throat, "I'm trying to say that, I still haven't recovered from their deaths. Riko and Yu dying for non sorcerers- and they don't even know. This enrages me. They don't know the sacrifices we make just to make sure they live another day."

"Oh, Suguru.." you said and hugged him making his eye's widened at your sudden action, "I'm sorry. Losing people is hard, but it makes you stronger, it makes you more of a fighter!" You said, pulling away with a big grin.

"You never let me finish my answer, so I'll just say it right now," you said, he nodded, "though, I do feel underappreciated.. at times... What keeps me going is seeing kids smile while playing with their friends at a playground. Families gathering around dinner tables to be together. Friends laughing with each other at the mall!" You said, then your eyes softened at him.

"Seeing them happy, seeing them smile is the reward, knowing that they live another day because I have strong friends who protect them, I am there to protect them as well. And in return, I get to live to see another day with my friends. The people I cherish the most," you said.

He stayed silent, his eye's stared into yours, you saw nothing. No change in expression, no change in his eyes, no change... in his heart..

"You know, I was planning on quitting this year," you said.

"Really?" He asked, you nodded.

"I was planning on quitting being a jujutsu sorcerer. I couldn't take it anymore. I was going to go to a normal school, get a normal job, live a normal life, but Satoru killing all the curses by himself? I couldn't bring myself to leave," you said, "he would be more busy and overwhelmed."

"That's why?"

"Yes! But, I also look forward to seeing everyone again after a mission. You and Gojo, keep me going, even when you guys aren't with me... know what I mean?" You asked, he nodded. "Plus, I swore to become a sorcerer because I've taken so many lives, and I feel like protecting innocent is the only way I can make up for it. Y'know?" You asked.

"You must really like Gojo if you stayed to be a sorcerer so he didn't bear the burden by himself."

You blushed, "... not just Gojo.. You, and Nanami, and Utahime."

He chuckled, "yeah, sure." He smiled but you didn't miss how it dropped quickly.

"Are you.. okay?" You asked, he cleared his throat then stood up making you follow his movements.

"Yes, thank you.. Y/n. For keeping me company," he said, "you promise not to tell anyone what I told you?" You smiled.

"I promise! If you need to talk to anyone, I'm always here for you. I always will be," you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile before waving goodbye. You both parted in the opposite directions to return to your room.

___

A couple days later, while you were just about to enter the gates of jujutsu high after returning from a mission, Yaga called you in an immediate hurry.

"Hello?-"

"Y/n- you need to see me as quick as possible... it's.... it's about Suguru," he said, you ran. You ran past the gates, past the forest, the hallways, to get to Yaga's office. You were scared.. did Suguru.. die? What happened? What did he do? Where is he?

You burst into his office to see Yaga pinching the bridge of his nose. He said nothing, but dropped down a file on his desk. You walked over and picked it up.

Your jaw dropped, your heart sank as tears brimmed your eyes.

"S-...Suguru.. did... this?"

"Yes."

Geto Suguru's residuals were traced all over a massacred village of 112 people. 112 people, including his parents. From this, we can conclude that Geto Suguru is the one that annihilated the village. Geto Suguru is expelled from Jujutsu High. He is to be killed on site or captured and executed at Jujutsu High.

"No, no, no, no, no," you said, your hands trembled and you dropped the file. Your hands immediately went to your hair and you yanked on the strands, "this isn't real. This.. isn't Suguru-"

"I'm afraid it is," Yaga said then sighed, "I don't know why he did this either."

Then it all hit you.

You knew.

You knew, but you were too dumb to see.

He told you.

You didn't see.

You didn't know.. at least.. then you didn't know.

"It's all my fault," you whispered. Yaga placed a hand on your shoulder.

"You-"

"Did you tell.. Satoru?" You asked cutting him off. He sighed and looked away. "Did you tell, Satoru?" You repeated firmly.

"No. Not yet. You're the first one who knows about this."

"Suguru.. why? Why?" You repeated and crouched down. The lump in your throat burned as you tried to blink your tears away.

No no no no no no no. This isn't happening. This isn't real. Wake up.

"I will tell him when he returns from his mission," Yaga said, "go get cleaned up. Go rest. Again, you're the first person I've told about this."

You didn't say anything. You just walked out.

This... is all my fault.

___

And, that's how you got here. Nanami passed out on a hospital bed in the corner of the room with a hot rag on his forehead. Shoko dozing off on a chair. Utahime sleeping at a desk. Yaga sitting at a table with stacks of papers while typing away on his laptop. You were on a sofa, staring at the ground.

Yaga informed you that he told Satoru about what Geto did. He also told you that Shoko had run into Geto in the city and she called Gojo. Gojo rushed to the city as quickly as possible to confront Geto. With that Geto bid goodbye. Gojo was supposed to kill Geto. But he couldn't.

He summoned all of you to the room you're in right now, you were just waiting for Gojo.

You couldn't bare to see Satoru. After all, you could've saved Suguru. You could've saved Satoru's best friend. You could've avoided all of this, if you never left Geto's side, to make sure he didn't feel alone, to make sure his ideals stayed the same.

You tried thinking of something else, so that your tears would just go away, but they wouldn't.

You killed the best friend of the man you loved.

The door slid opened and you stared at your feet. It was Satoru. You felt his gaze on you, but you didn't bother to look at him. You couldn't.

Yaga cleared his throat and stood up, waking Nanami, Utahime, and Shoko up from their slumber, "you all.. are aware what happened to Suguru and what he has done."

Everyone nodded.

"What do you guys think of this?" Yaga asked.

"Well, I think it was dumb how he wanted to become a cursed user," Shoko spoke up, you applauded her in your mind for being the first to talk.

"I don't know.. how I feel about this," Utahime said.

"If anyone has something bothering them talk to each other," Yaga said, your heart sank. "You only have each other, that's all you really need," he said, you tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

You hated crying in front of people. You hated being vulnerable. You were trained to bury it deep down or hide it from others.

"I don't know why Geto did this.. I don't know why he changed. But, if anyone of you have something that's bothering you, speak up right now."

"Why are you asking us this?" Nanami asked.

Yaga clenched his fist, "I don't want to lose anymore students. I don't want any of you to turn out like Suguru." He said, "so, if there's anything, tell me, or tell someone else, I don't care. Just don't.."

He sighed, slumping back in his chair.

Everyone's souls were crushed.

"I'll let you know when we have classes. Dismissed," Yaga said, everyone got up.

You pushed yourself off the couch, but your knees felt weak.

This is all my fault..

Then suddenly, all the tears you had been holding back... all the frustration you hid...

..had poured out.

You immediately fell to your knees. Everyone gasped as you collapsed. You were quick enough to catch yourself by planting your hands onto the floor.

Gojo's eyes widened.

"Y/n!!" Utahime yelled rushing over to you. You cried and wailed while clenching your fist.

"It's my fault!" You yelled.

Everyone stopped, then you sat up with tears running down your cheeks- eyes glued to the ground.

"Suguru... talked to me.. about hating non sorcerers," you whispered, as they stayed silent, "he asked me what I think of non sorcerers, I told him that sometimes I feel underappreciated, but seeing them smile with their loved one's is what keeps me going."

Utahime came to your side with a hand on your back, Shoko knelt down and pressed a hand to your forehead.

"You're burning up-"

"He then told me that... if there wasn't any non sorcerers.. there would be less curses. He told me that Riko's and Yu's death changed him," you spoke, "he said that, they died protecting the weak and it enraged him because non sorcerers don't know the sacrifices us sorcerers have to make."

"I... knew," you whispered, "he covered it up by saying that he just hasn't recovered from Amanai's and Yu's death and that's why his view on non sorcerers changed. But, I was too dumb to see that, I was so dumb and believed the lie... when he revealed his true self to me," you said, then looked up at Gojo.

"'Toru... I'm so sorry.. I could've saved your best friend, but I'm so stupid. I-" you covered your face in your hands and cried. Gojo kneeled down and pulled you into his chest.

"You are not responsible for his actions, Y/n," he whispered you sniffled into his chest.

"I could've done something. I could've changed his mind. I could've saved him, 'Toru-"

"Look at me," he said pulling away from you. He wiped your tears as you sniffled. "You couldn't have changed him, you couldn't have done anything, he chose how to live his life- people like that, you cannot change." He said then leaned forward.

"Why.. didn't you tell me?" He asked.

You wiped your nose, "he promised me not to tell anyone.."

Gojo smiled, it was a sad smile, but he tried to make it look as happy as possible, "you always keep your promises, come here," he said then embraced you once again.

Your phone began to vibrate making you pull away, you slipped it out of your pocket and your eye's widened, "it's... Geto.."

Everyone gasped and you answered it, "Suguru?"

"Hey Y/n," he said in a cheery voice, "I wanted to say goodbye to you before leaving, wanna meet up?"

You looked over at Yaga and he nodded, "uh- sure.."

"Great! I'll text you the details," he said, then he hung up. Your phone chimed with a message from Geto, he had sent you the location and time.

"What does it say?" Utahime said

"It's a park," you said, the held your phone up for everyone to see.

Bestie Suguru Blue Rose Park. At the bench by the lake at 4 pm. Don't be late

Yaga summoned you after you had gotten ready. You decided not to wear your jujutsu uniform but some oversized sweatpants and one of Satoru's hoodies with sneakers.

"Y/n, we are going with you," he said, you blinked at Gojo standing behind him.

"Uh-"

"We won't intervene, I'm just going to record your conversation. This machine only works within a certain radius. I'll just put a mic on you, it's strong enough to pick up Geto's voice, try not to talk too loud," he said, you relaxed.

"Stay hidden then," you said, he nodded.

"And... Y/n.." he said, you tilted your head, "you... are going to have to kill him," he said.

Your eyes widened as you stepped back.

Gojo jumped, "whoa, whoa, whoa," Gojo said standing in front of you, shielding you from Yaga's view. Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose again.

"Unfortunately, I have to report everything involving Geto to the higher ups, they demanded that Y/n kills him." Yaga said then sighed and held out a gun. You stared at it. "Y/n is the most capable of killing him."

"I..."

"Just take it, for protection.."

"You think he's gonna hurt me?" You asked, Yaga sighed.

"You never know."

You took it from his grasp and tucked it into your waistband making Gojo look at you.

When you were an assassin- you were one of the best at handling a gun. You had shot many people. In their heads, their hands, arms, legs, shoulder, torso, you name it. But shooting your best friend? Are you capable of doing that?

You tucked the mini microphone on your shirt underneath your Gojo's hoodie. Both you and Gojo sat in the backseat of Yaga's car as he drove you to a building by the park.

"Gojo and I are going to be in this building on the 4th floor near the window, but you won't be able to see us. If anything happens, we will run out," Yaga said, you nodded.

Yaga gave you a gun, Yaga came with you by the higher ups command. But, also because he didn't want to lose another student as he said. He hid his feelings in his actions.

You fiddled with you fingers and Gojo rested a hand on your head, "you sure you're going to be okay?" He asked, you nodded. And, he pulled you into his chest once more before letting you go.

You gazed around the park and finally saw Suguru sitting on a bench. He didn't bother to turn around and greet you, you joined his side and sighed.

"So.. cursed user now?"

"Yep... I found how I wanted to live my life, that's all," he said.

"You killed... a lot of people.. Suguru."

"They were holding these two little girls captive. I had to do something, Y/n," he said, "wouldn't you have done the same thing?"

"I would've freed the two little girls without killing the whole village," you simply stated. He laughed.

"You wouldn't kill the whole village? I find it hard to believe that."

"How so?" You asked.

You knew why. Assassins don't wait, they take. Even if it means killing people who you weren't even assigned to kill. You had become a sorcerer but you haven't abandoned some of your assassin ways. You choose to act first with violence because that's simply how you were trained.

Shoot first, ask questions later. But, some people won't be able to answer because they'd be dead.

Geto did nothing but smile.

"I take it you brought guests with you?"

You gave him a small smile, "yes, but they won't intervene unless you try to hurt me or something."

"I would never."

"You also never said I couldn't bring anyone, so that's your fault," you said sticking out your tongue, you found it strange how you were able to joke with a murderer who was once your best friend right now.

He laughed, then you both stared at the lake.

It was glimmering in the suns golden light as kids by the park near you and him laughed while chasing each other around.

"I know you probably think you could've changed me or saved me, Y/n," he said, "but trust me, the Geto you knew died when Riko did."

You looked at him then looked back at the water, "it's weird.."

"What is?"

"I've known you for years, you're my best friend. Your presence feels so familiar to me, yet I feel like I don't know you at all," you said then looked up at him.

"I'm your best friend, huh?" He smiled, "I thought that would've changed already."

"It hasn't."

He sighed, "you know when you told me you were planning on quitting being a jujutsu sorcerer?" Your eye's widened.

oh no.. gojo is listening to this...

You cleared your throat, "yeah.. what about it?" You asked.

"Do you still feel that way?"

You laughed, "no, idiot! Who's going to protect all the non sorcerers when you try to kill them!"

"Well... Satoru.. duh," he said, you smiled.

"No.. I won't leave Satoru," you said then cleared your throat, "I don't want him to bear the burden of being the strongest all by himself," you whispered looking up at Suguru, "I'm not the strongest, but I just don't want Satoru to feel alone.." you said, Geto squinted his eyes at you.

"I mean your technique is pretty powerful and you're trained assassin, so you could come 2nd to him."

"No, then I'd take your spot," you said shoving him lightly, he chuckled.

"I'm not in this anymore, so go ahead," he said, then let out a deep breath, "he- Satoru told me that my dream is impossible. But I told him that- if I was him, my dream would be possible," he said, you stared at him, "if I had his power, my dream of eliminating all non sorcerers would become possible, isn't that right?" He asked

You sighed and leaned your head back, "I guess.."

"What?" He asked gazing at your bothered face.

"I really shouldn't be... saying this. But.. you're strong, Suguru. Your dream is possible with you being you, don't question your strength," you said, his eyes widened. "You and him were supposed to be the strongest... you think he left you behind, don't you?" You asked.

He sighed, "it's not what I think. It's what he did."

"Do you think he wanted to leave you behind?" You said, "he didn't intend to. But, when he was here with us we had so much fun and everything was normal."

"It's not that Y/n. He became the strongest and I grew to have a different ideals from him and decided to take action, that's all," he said, you sighed.

"You love Satoru, don't you?" He asked, you jumped with your eyes wide.

"Uh-"

"You're always covering for him even in our conversation just now. You stayed as a sorcerer so that you could help him, even if you exorcise just one or a few curses- you do it so Satoru doesn't get the mission and become more busy. You blamed yourself for not helping me when you had the chance because if you saved me- Satoru wouldn't have lost his best friend. Is that right?" He said looking you straight in the eye. Your hand twitched.

"Uh-"

"You don't need to admit it. I'm sure you've questioned your feelings for him a couple times- I'm sure you're questioning your feelings for him more right now, but everyone saw it, even Shoko," he said.

"Can we talk about something else?" You mumbled.

He let out a small laugh, "sure, anyways. I've pretty much said everything I wanted to say, is there anything you want to talk about?"

Then it hit you.

I have to kill him...

"Uh.. why did you want me to not tell anyone about the conversation we had that night?" You asked putting your hands in your pocket, you felt the handle of the gun and wrapped your hand around it.

Kill him.

"Because it would worry everyone. And, I knew you would keep the secret," he said. "You're the one I trust most."

Your heart sank.

Shoot him. You've done this so many times.

"It still doesn't make sense why you didn't tell anyone up until now. Why did you only tell me?" You asked.

Kill him, Y/n

He raised a brow, "are you stalling?"

Just kill him, Y/n.

"Damn..." you said leaning your head back, he raised a brow.

It began to rain with sunlight peaking through the clouds. Golden rain. The smell was nostalgic and this scenery is something you'll never forget. With the lake sparkling, rain hitting every surface in view, the golden light shining down on everything.

I can't do it..

"I'm supposed to kill you," you said, "I'm the one who's most capable of doing it." You took the gun out of your waist band and held it in your lap. He stared at the weapon then back at you. "An assassin like me would surely be capable of killing someone with no remorse or feelings."

"Or.. at least they thought I was the most capable..." you mumbled, then looked up at him, "unfortunately.. I can't kill my best friend," tossing the gun into the lake. No one was around anymore, they all left because of the sudden rain.

"I'm sorry, Suguru, I can't help but think that if I talked to you a little more and spent a little more time with you- you wouldn't have turned out like this," you said standing up, he followed your movements.

"I told you Y/n. I started realizing all of this when Riko died, you're a little too late now," he said, you gave him a sad smile.

"I guess we're enemies now."

"I guess so too," he said then held out his hand for you to shake. You smiled and engulfed him into a hug.

"Goodbye, Suguru... thank you for the best 3 years of my youth," you said, he wrapped his arms around you. You stayed like that for a while. Enjoying his presence because this would be the last time you would ever be in his arms again. Then you finally had the courage to let go.

"Thank you for saying goodbye to me and not leaving with nothing said," you giggled and gave him a sad smile.

"See you, Y/n."

"Goodbye, Suguru.."

With that. You both parted ways going in the opposite direction.

___

You walked back to Yaga and Gojo in the rain, but then you saw Shoko and Utahime standing behind them outside the building, they must've joined while you were talking with Suguru.

"Are you.. okay?" Utahime asked, you gave her a small smile while handing Yaga the mic that was once attached to your shirt.

"I don't know.. I want to go home."

The car ride back was silent almost deafening. But, it was a comfortable silence. Everyone was grieving, but you had each other. You hoped Nanami was doing well, he was the only one who wasn't there, yet you didn't have the energy to see him when you arrived at Jujutsu High.

Approaching Gojo on the stairs, you sat next to him and smiled, "how are you doing?" You asked, he shrugged.

"Fine, I guess.."

"You don't have to lie 'Toru," you said brushing his hair back. He looked at you making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you.. for checking up on me," he said, but then looked back at the ground, "but, I kind of want to be alone right now."

You immediately pulled away from him, ignoring the ache in your heart, "of course, 'Toru," you said standing up.

"If you want to be lonely, you can always come be lonely with me," you said, "just come to my room if you want. You don't need to knock or anything." You said with a smile, he gave you a weak smile back. You turned on your heels and your grin that you had put on for Gojo dropped instantly.

The journey to your room felt like forever. You walked those hallways so many times with your friends, but by yourself- you never realized how long the hallways were. How many turns you had to take to get to the dorms.

Gojo was still sitting at the stairs leading to Jujutsu High, he didn't know long he was sitting there exactly, but it must've been a while. His legs were spread while he rested his cheek in the palm of his hand "how are you holding up?" Yaga asked, he scoffed and kicked a rock.

"Well, I'm here."

Yaga sighed, "do you want to quit being a sorcerer?"

Gojo sat up right, "no, surprisingly. I found how I want to live."

"And, how is that?" Yaga asked.

With a deep breath Gojo sighed, "I want to become a teacher at jujutsu high to make sure the next generation become strong intelligent sorcerers who reset the Jujutsu world. Instead of hiding like the higher ups."

"It's possible," Yaga said, Gojo threw his head back.

"I know it is. How long have I been sitting here?" Satoru asked, the sun had already set and when he sat on the stairs the sun was bright in the sky.

"More than two hours."

They stayed silent for a while until Yaga spoke up.

"... have you.. checked on Y/n?" He asked, Gojo's eyes widened.

And that's how Satoru found himself sprinting through the gates, the hallways of jujutsu high to your room. He totally forgot, he was so overwhelmed with everything else, he forgot about you.

He cursed at himself for pushing you away.

He stopped at his room to change into a fresh pair of pajamas then resumed running back to you. Once he made it in front of your door he let out a deep breath.

"Just come to my room if you want. You don't need to knock or anything."

He placed his hand on the knob and twisted it open. Your room was clean, neatly organized. He remember the time you told him that if your room was messy- you'd go insane. He shut the door quietly behind him.

There was moonlight peeking through your window and rested ontop of your body, bed, and parts of your room.

You were on your bed, curled in the fetal position with your head buried in the pillows. As he made his way over to your figure- he didn't miss how your jujutsu uniform was thrown in the trash. Your skirt sunk deep in the bag with your sweater barely hanging on the rim of the trashcan. You had thrown it away making him nervous.

Were you going to quit being a jujutsu sorcerer for real? He remembered Geto mentioning it in your conversation with him today.

He cleared his throat and diverted his attention back to you, "hey Y/n-"

"Ah!" you said sitting up at his voice. You wiped your tears away and flipped your tear-stained pillow to the dry side, "Toru! Hi! Sorry, I didn't hear you," you smiled, "is there something wrong?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Oh.. what is it?"

He pointed at square at your chest, "you trying to hide the fact that you were crying."

You shrugged, "I mean you scared me."

"So?" He said, then sighed wiping your wet cheeks, "just be yourself."

"I'm just not used to people seeing me cry," you smiled as he took off his sunglasses and placed them on your nightstand.

"You can cry around me, Y/n," he said, staring straight at you with those gorgeous blue irises. "Can I.. be lonely with you?" He asked, you gave him a small smile.

"Of course-"

He tackled you onto the bed, burying his face into your neck.

"Why didn't you give up being a sorcerer and live a normal life?" He asked, you leaned your head back and stared at the ceiling.

"I.. swore to myself that I would become a sorcerer to make up for all the lives I took," you said, "I also didn't want you to become more busy than you are now."

"Thanks for not leaving me," he said, you smiled slightly.

"How are you doing? Do you want to talk about anything?" You asked, he sighed.

"I think if I say anything, I'll just cry."

"Let it all out, 'Toru, it's just me and you anyways. There is no one else."

He looked up at you because of your words. The things he'd do for you. He'd give heaven to you, he'd move mountains for you, he'd do it all. Yet, he couldn't save you from the pain. If he just saved Geto, he could've saved you from the pain you're experiencing now.

He buried his face in your neck.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

You buried your fingers in his white strands of hair, "for what, Toru?"

"I'm so sorry. I blame myself.. for not being there for Geto, if I didn't go on so many missions maybe he wouldn't have changed, maybe he wouldn't have-"

You didnt expect it.

HE didn't expect it but he choked on his own words and began to sob into your neck. Holding you so tight you could barely breathe.

"I'm so sorry."

You wrapped your arms around him, "Toru.. enough with these 'if I did this', 'if I did that'," you said, kissing his head. "I know it hurts, but you can't save everyone including the people closest to you. You heard what he said, he changed when Amanai died. You and I were both there, we couldn't do anything. So, it's not just your fault, it's mine too. Or maybe, it's none of our faults. Just don't take the blame by yourself, okay?"

You didn't care if you were letting yourself go and showering him with kisses. This is what he needed, this is what you needed. You let him cry into your neck a little more as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"This is out of our control. It was bound to happen. There's nothing we can do."

He pulled away suddenly and turned his face away from you to wipe his tears, you grabbed his wrists to stop his movements, "you can cry around me, Toru," you smiled, mocking him a bit. He laughed as you grinned.

For some reason everything felt alright with him by your side. Your room wasn't so cold anymore, there wasn't silence that slowly killed you, crying seemed better when he was there. You didn't feel so lonely anymore.

"Are you.. going to quit being a sorcerer?" He asked, joining your side in bed. You sighed.

"No.. I don't know yet. Why?"

"I have a dream, that I want you to be apart of," he said, you rolled onto your side and stared into blue eyes.

"I want to become a teacher at jujutsu high," he said.

You blinked, "why?"

"I want to raise the next generations to become strong intelligent sorcerers who fix the Jujutsu world. Instead of hiding like higher-up cowards," he said and looked you straight in the eye, "and I want you to do it with me."

Gojo grabbed your hand and began to intertwine your fingers together.

"You see.. Suguru's 'awakening' really showed me all the flaws in the structure of the jujutsu world as well as the higher ups leaving you to the task of killing Suguru proved my point, they're cowards. I don't want the next sorcerers to become like Suguru or those old geezers," he said then cupped your cheek, "I want the kids to turn out like you."

"I... love you, Y/n.." he said, your eyes widened, "I always have, since our first year."

"You're strong, capable, caring, reliable, sweet, smart, fierce, and selfless," he said then smiled, "kids like that don't sound so bad, huh?"

You couldn't help but bury yourself into his chest and cry a little more, "do you mean that?" You mumbled, he smiled and wrapped his arms around you as you looked up at him.

"I mean every word with my whole being," he said.

"I'll do it, Toru. I'll do it all with you, you're the only dream I seek," you said, then kissed his jaw, "I love you- mph!!"

He slammed his lips into yours and pushed you onto your back, pressing himself more and more into you while his hand cupped your cheek. Gojo pulled away to gasp for air and leaned his forehead against yours, "thank you for not leaving me. Thank you for making sure I don't bear the burden of being the strongest by myself. Thank you for tackling this dream with me," he said, "thank you, y/n. Thank you. There's so much happening right now."

Gojo pulled away to look you in the eye, "when I'm with you. I'm not so lonely anymore." He said, kissing your nose as the moonlight peeking from your window brushed against your facial features.

His stare made you squirm a bit, "stop staring. I probably look disgusting right now." Messy hair, tear stained cheeks, drool around your mouth, swollen puffy eyes.

But, even in your worst time, he always saw the best in you. He paid no attention to your messy hair, tear stained cheeks, drool, and swollen eyes.

He gazed at the moonlight lighting up your skin, your hair, your beautiful eyes, and glossy lips.

You sniffled as he cupped your cheek slowly and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away.

"Darling, you're glowing."

~ end

___

Gege was asked, “since Gojo is aware of his good looks doesn’t he want a lover?” and Gege responded with, “I don’t see gojo being sincere to a particular woman” it was translated as, “I don’t see Gojo settling down with a particular women.” what he actually meant by that is- he doesn’t see Gojo letting himself become vulnerable with a women. but, I also 100% think Gojo would be a whore too yknow so this is all about you- being the only person in the world who Satoru would let himself become vulnerable with.

suki's notes :

I want this to have a part 2 of you and Gojo meeting Megumi and Tsumiki with headcanons of moments you and Gojo had gone through while raising Megumi and starting your journey as a teacher at jujutsu high

Sounds cute, right? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

anyways sorry this was long as hell. i hope this did NOT disappoint. I will be sad I worked on this all day T~T

but u CANNOT tell me this last part w/ u and gojo did not represent This Side of Paradise. read the lyrics ;3

hope y'all enjoyed it ! have a great night/day <3

EDIT :

SO MANY PEOPLE LOVED THIS- I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA FLOP

THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT I WORKED RLLY HARD ON THIS

THANK YOU

THERE WILL BE A PART 2 - you and gojo raising and meeting megumi and starting your journey as teachers :3

I DO NOT KNOW WHEN PART 2 IS COMING OUT - WORKING ON IT RN

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theprettynosferatu · 8 months

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CW: Orientation play/conversion. Remember that your sexuality is valid, and conversion is NOT a thing beyond fantasy. Also, fuck "conversion therapy"

“All I’m saying is…”

“Look, you’re speaking out of your ass”, Ava said, barely containing her frustration.

“How am I speaking out of my ass? It has been done and thoroughly…”, he tried to reply.

“Yes, yes, Pavlov, blah blah blah. But you’re talking about something else entirely, not conditioning reactions”

“Not Pavlov, Skinner! Actions can be conditioned too. Look around you! Mobile games, casinos, even the goddamn army uses conditioning to…”

“Can we agree that there’s a difference between conditioning obedience in a controlled setting and whatever the fuck it is you’re suggesting? You’re not talking about tapping on impulse to buy funbucks in a game! You are talking…”

“It’s only a difference of degree, not of kind. With the right combination of techniques…”

“No, there’s a core there that you can’t just… overwrite. Some things can’t be changed. Like… like how you can’t hypnotize someone into doing something they would never do”

“You know that’s bullshit, right? The whole hypnosis thing. You absolutely can make someone do whatever the fuck you want. It’s just a matter of how you approach it. Like, you would never harm a person, okay? But if I change what your idea of ‘person’ is, say, by making it more narrow you would absolutely harm someone I made you see as a not-person. Or maybe you can be made to believe you’re helping them, not harming them”

“That’s some creepy cult shit, dude. And anyway you can’t write a paper on this because a) there’s no evidence and b) doing the research to get evidence would be absolutely immoral. So I say look for another topic and for the love of God don’t go around spewing that bullshit if you want to ever get laid. Oh, speaking of! Linda will be arriving shortly and we have a date night, so please, please try to be a normal roommate and not freak her out. For me, okay?”

“When have I ever freaked her out? Linda loves me! And who knows, maybe she has an opinion on our little debate”

“Dude, she’s an Art student. I doubt she’ll be interested in our weird Psych dissertations”

“Perfect! Fresh eyes!”

“See, that’s the kind of weird shit I-”

The buzzer cut through the air, and a moment later Linda was inside the apartment, all smiles as usual. He took a moment to watch them as they embraced.

They were almost comical in their contrast. Linda was tall, taller than he was, willowy and slender, her limbs graceful and shapely, her hair a long, flowing river of playful copper that almost seemed to dance on its own volition– with her green sundress she appeared to him as some sort of elven princess ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel and stuck into a mortal world in which she didn’t really fit. Ava, on the other hand, was probably the shortest adult he had ever seen. He might be tempted to call her petite, but that had a connotation of a lithe frame, almost like a tastefully proportioned doll. Ava was the complete opposite of that. Sometimes he felt Ava was an experiment aimed at testing how much of a person’s weight could be tits and ass, held up by strong, thick thighs. He felt quite guilty about such thoughts, and he understood why she wore nothing but oversized t-shirts and hoodies. It was logical: an early, spectacular growth spurt, heightened by her small size, had made her the target of relentless bullying by jealous classmates and awkward come-ons by hormonal teen males. It enraged him, he realized. Ava was beautiful and the cruelty of idiots had made her feel pain about it instead of pride. He made a point to never stare at her, even if he sometimes failed. It made their relationship as roommates a tad hard, he had to admit.

Not that he had a shadow of a shot, of course. Ava had no interest in men.

Unless, of course, he was right in his theory. And he had good reason to think he was.

“So, Linda: Ava and I were having a bit of a debate…”

“Don’t start, dude”, said Ava.

“Oh, a debate! Do tell!” chirped Linda.

“Do you think we can be completely conditioned and changed, or is there some part of us that cannot be modified, no matter what?”

“Huh. Hard one. Like… a soul? I don’t know I buy it. I feel there isn’t really a self, you know? Like… Buddhism. The self is an illusion and all that”

“Come on, you can’t be serious! You can’t change who someone fundamentally is, and it’s sick to even consider it!”, said Ava.

“Well… what if I could prove to you it can be done?”, he stated, barely able to hold back. He know what he was going to do. He had been reluctant, but now it felt like a certainty.

“You can’t, so stop being an ass”, said Ava.

Fine. Game on.

“Linda, I love your socks! Pride socks!”

“Yup!”, said Linda

“What the hell–”, mumbled Ava.

He took a deep breath.

“Linda: rainbow socks…”

She replied in an instant.

“Are for sucking cocks!”

Ava felt as if reality had shifted into some horrible, twisted nightmare. She was about to scream something, anything really, to make Linda take that back before something stopped her in her tracks. Her body heard it before her mind did: her roommate's voice simply commanding her. Watch.

And she watched. She watched as the love of her life smiled and went on her knees. Ava could do nothing but watch in disbelief and pain. Linda had never been with a man. Ever.

“I might have… started testing my theories. On you both. Not that you’d remember, obviously”, he stated casually as the beautiful girl in front of him lovingly undid his pants. “I’d say Linda’s sexuality is part of her core self, wouldn’t you? Let’s see how that holds up after the months of conditioning I’ve subjected her to”

He felt guilty, sure; but there was such a high to it, such an entrancing quality to the combination of seeing instant, complete obedience and the final, definitive proof of the truth he had known to be right all along. Was it wrong? Yes. Did he care? Not at the moment. Ava’s eyes were a poem to him. Suddenly he was ripped from his reverie by the soft, loving touch of Linda’s tongue on his dick. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten hard just from the sense of complete power, of total, undeniable conquest. This was a primal, ancient arousal. Ava could do nothing but watch, and he took that sight in. God, he could almost taste it.

Linda moaned. The cock was so beautiful. So perfect. She felt so… silly, like she was now, for the first time, seeing in color and realizing the sky was, in fact, blue. It was obvious. Simple. Natural. Cock deserved worship. Cock deserved devotion. Cock demanded obedience. It was as if it was growing in her mind, taking over more and more of her, pushing who she had been out effortlessly. It expanded. It corrupted. It twisted and shifted all within. Cock. Cock. Cock. She kissed it with reverence, in awe of it. It was all that existed to her. All that mattered. She needed to please it. Needed to feel it throbbing inside her. Needed to be taken by it.

Ava saw her girlfriend slide a hand between her legs and felt nauseous. As much as she knew this wasn’t Linda’s fault, she could feel her heart breaking, her anger rising… and worse, her pussy getting wet. Her body betraying her. She hated him, and she hated Linda, and she hated herself most of all.

Suddenly, Linda couldn’t contain herself. She relaxed her throat, looked up at her Master and took his entire manhood inside her mouth. She almost came instantly. It was peaceful and sexy and just simple, like his cock was the puzzle piece that fit her perfectly, completed her, made her whole. She existed to be conquered, and realizing she was putting his pleasure over her ability to breathe was the final sign of her complete, loving surrender. She let it out, watched it glisten with her spit, and started licking it and loving it and she didn’t know how much came from her own need and how much it was a silent command by the man who had shown her the light. Her mind was too fuzzy to make such distinctions anymore.

He took a deep breath, fighting back the first signs of an orgasm. He needed to make a point.

“Linda… do you love Ava?”

The blonde stopped for a moment, shocked by a myriad of contradictions.

“Yes”, she decided. Her voice was shaking.

“Tell her”

Linda looked at Ava, the woman she had loved above all others.

“I love you…”

“But you have more to say, don’t you?”

“I… hmph… I…”

“Tell her”

“I love you… but… but… I love his cock so much more! Fuck! I need it! I need to feel it, to suck it, to be fucked by it… I’m sorry… but… I love it, I love it, I love it! I want it to fuck my throat, to take my cunt, to ram my ass! I need it! I need to be a slave to it, a whore for it, a fucking living toy!”

“What if you had to choose between Ava and my cock?”

“Fuck her! Sorry, my love… I do love you, but… You can never do to me what… what Master does to me, what his cock makes me feel! I hope I won’t have to dump you but… I would leave you for this cock in a minute! I’d do anything. Anything. Anything!” If she had more to add, her need to serve cock snuffed it. She took it all in with desperation, with total, shameless abandon. She needed to feel... used. In her proper place.

Ava felt a tear roll down her cheek. Her knees buckled in defeat. She didn’t even care. It was all gone. Her life, her love, all gone. And she could feel her eyes drawn again and again to the cock that had destroyed her. She felt her mouth watering.

“Linda, would you say you’re a lesbian?”

“Fuck no!”, she said before immediately wrapping her lips around the cock’s head.

He felt a swell of pride. Of triumph. He knew Ava sensed the truth as well. He was right. He had proven his point. And now Ava’s full conditioning would take hold. A little bet with himself, making her own mental acknowledgment of his theory her final trigger. She took off her t-shirt. She would never wear it again. No more shame, no more pain about her figure. Only arousal and pride. His gift to her.

She crawled to him on all fours. The girls kissed– but now, they kissed for him, to arouse him. They were lovers, only they both knew there was a higher love. A truer love. Ava looked up at her owner and opened her mouth, greedily awaiting his blessing. Linda used her skillful hands, aiming his cock and teasing it, jacking it off, using just the right amount of pressure and speed.

No man could resist such a sight.

In a few seconds, Ava was covered in his cum, more beautiful than she had ever been. Linda certainly felt that way, and she licked and kissed her sister slut clean.

He watched carefully, looking for signs of defiance, and finding none. In fact, Linda put his fears to rest with a simple statement.

“Ava, we need to buy you a pair of rainbow socks”

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !!

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imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

Text

Father Figure (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer discusses daddy issues. His boss, who is also his girlfriend’s father, has a question. Request: Reader is hotch's daughter and after hotch learns that they are dating their interactions are kind of weird in a funny way Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Mild awkwardness Word Count: 900

MASTERLIST

The jet ride to a crime scene is rarely a pleasant experience. Each team member holds their folders filled with horrors, and they display an abject apathy. After all, they are quite familiar with the worst side of humanity. Some days, though, when the worst crimes are still hypothetical and the victims are alive, the team can maintain some semblance of their usual personality.

Spencer is usually the first one to share something interesting about the theoretical or identified unsub. This is because he has a broad knowledge on, well, most things, and he also manages to read through the stack of papers much quicker and with a greater detail than the others.

This day, however, Spencer is silent. And everyone knows why.

Because just one measly week ago, Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner found out that Spencer Reid was dating his daughter.

Beyond the initial, incredibly uncomfortable conversation, Hotch had barely spoken a word about it. A fool might think that meant he has no qualms with it, but Spencer knows him better than that.

No, it is infinitely more likely that Hotch is stewing in his rage about his daughter’s Freudian taste in men. Hotch is just too smart to strike without the possibility of maximal damage.

So, Spencer knows to keep his guard up.

But he never could keep a thought to himself, could he?

Derek lets out a deep breath with a soft whistle before he tosses his folder onto the desk beside him. As the others peek up at him, he shakes his head with an enthused but horrified expression.

“Talk about ‘daddy issues,’” Derek mutters.

The others smirk in response, but they say nothing else.

Until, inevitably, Spencer does.

“The correct term would be ‘father complex,’” he says with an attempt to sound disinterested in one of his favorite philosophers, “It was a shared theory between Freud and Jung, and it’s actually very interesting.”

No one says a word. Spencer does not notice the warnings flashing in their eyes because he is too afraid to accidentally look at Hotch.

They all know what’s coming.

He continues, anyway.

“While Freud was more interested in how men might become distrusting or intimidated by older male authorities, Jung extended his analysis to women with emotionally or physically absent fathers.”

Despite the roaring engines and the full cabin, the jet is silent. If Spencer had looked up then, he would have seen how everyone immediately glances over at Hotch.

Hotch, however, maintains his stoic stare. He is looking directly at Spencer, who is still staring at the document in the folder he has already read several times over.

“There’s a more contemporary term for the phenomenon that would probably be more fitting,” Spencer announces.

“Really?” Emily asks. The rhetorical question is dripping with sarcasm in a final attempt to stop him.

Spencer is so lost in thought at this point that he does not even notice. Instead, he marches on to his downfall.

“It’s called ‘Father hunger,’” he explains coolly, “and it explains the over-trust in authority figures and the search for an older man that reminds them of the father they never had.”

“Are you talking about yourself or my daughter?”

Every muscle in Spencer’s body seizes at the question. Quickly, he raises his head to find himself trapped in the paralyzing, disapproving stare of Aaron Hotchner.

“What?” he squeaks.

The man does not answer.

“N-No! No, I was just explaining the origins of the term,” he insists.

He tries—but fails—not to think about you. Just one remark, one casual reminder of your existence makes his skin ripple with goosebumps. Overcome with guilt—but never regret—his mind tugs forward every memory shared between the two of you.

The smell of your perfume, the softness of your lips, the comfort he finds in your arms.

His life is flashing before his eyes and every part of it looks like you.

He raises his hands in surrender before he sputters, “I would never—!”

“Reid,” your father commands.

Your boyfriend flinches.

“It’s a joke,” Hotch says just before he smiles.

Immediately, Spencer is surrounded by familiar smiles. He feels the visceral pain of a joke made at his expense while at the same time, he is cloaked with relief.

“Funny joke,” he says under his breath.

Hotch detects the sarcasm but decides to let it go.

He had won the exchange, after all.

Spencer also tries to let it go. Because if this was the height of Hotch’s rage over the ultimate violation of his home life, he’d basically gotten away with murder.

Still, he can’t shake the burning red blush. That and the trembling from the adrenaline felt almost permanent.

Just as the thought occurs to him, Derek takes a seat beside him.

He leans closer even as Spencer leans away.

Then, in the quietest whisper, he asks, “Which one of you does she call daddy?”

Yes, Spencer realizes. The blush is going to be permanent.

“Stop talking,” he orders with a startlingly amount of finality.

From across the table, Emily provides Derek with the audience he wanted. Her giggles alone assuage his desire to make Spencer’s day just a little bit more chaotic.

The two relent. Spencer is alone with his thoughts again, and he wonders whether he will ever feel at home in his new position.

But then he thinks of you, and he knows that he is exactly where he is meant to be.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

If you're looking for more to read, check out my full-length smut story "My Boss's Daughter," where Reader is Hotch's daughter that is in love with Spencer!

Thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction

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rrxnjun · 9 months

Text

dancing in my backseat ✲ l. donghyuck

pairing. film student! donghyuck x film student! fem! reader starring. uchinaga aeri genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive warnings. mentions of alcohol and weed, swearing, sexual innuendos word count. 24k (24.047) a/n. please dont hate me for the fact that this does not have any expected smut in it i tried and it felt too awkward i just COULDN'T. also this fic doesn't fit the image of it i had in my head at all but i actually kind of prefer this version over the prev idea i had anyway <;3

playlist. marvelous - wallows / crash my car - coin / test drive - ariana grande / streets - doja cat / no manners - superm / feather - sabrina carpenter / AEAO - dynamicduo / wet tongue - thomas headon / car crash - eaj / delicious - the boyz / but i like you - boynextdoor

there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the number of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in league of legends, and lastly, their cars— or— where you would never fuck a guy without a driver's licence.

✲ PART 3 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

If anyone asked you about your relationship with Lee Donghyuck, you’d scoff at them and simply state that the resident gemini was your moral enemy. Was that true? No. No, of course it wasn’t– there was nothing this man has done in his life to get on your bad side, and you truly don’t feel any hatred towards him, but at the end of the day, it’s always easier to say this than to explain the exact feelings you have towards the male without sounding at least a bit overly-dramatic.

See, you don’t hate Lee Donghyuck; you don’t think he’s your enemy either– you just find him absolutely, excruciatingly annoying.

And it’s not his personality, no– although you do admit that the way he carries himself and has such high mind about himself is quite alarming– the way your toes curl and the hair on your body stands up, all alert in sheer ick and disgust, has nothing to do with his ego and everything to do with your experience with the man.

The first time you find Lee Donghyuck intensely annoying is when you get a text one day (having acquired his phone number from one of the class group chats, since the two of you major in the same program), at 9 in the morning, approximately 15 minutes before you have to leave your apartment to get to your fist class of the day. The man picked the wrong time to bother you, since it was Monday, of all days– the beginning of the week always manages to rile you up just because it exists in the first place– and you could give him the benefit of the doubt and say that it wasn’t his fault at all and you woke up grumpy already, but the events that happened after made you so deeply disturbed and annoyed to your core that there truly wasn’t any other word left in your vocabulary to describe Lee Donghyuck than the adjective already mentioned – annoying.

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – hi im in a crisis lee donghyuck (film theory class) – can u pls throw some toilet paper lee donghyuck (film theory class) – we ran out and my roommate already left for class lee donghyuck (film theory class) – pleaaaaase

Staring at the texts appearing on your phone screen in a hurry, you stop in your tracks and furrow your brows at the contact name in confusion. The truth is, you haven’t spoken to Lee Donghyuck that many times– you just know that he’s friends with your friend Lee Yangyang from high school and you two meet occasionally at the said friend’s gatherings. Plus, you had a discussion or two about the beauty of Quentin Tarantino movies when you met at orientation in freshman year, and that's also when you learned that he’s your neighbor; in fact, the window to his flat's bathroom and his very own bedroom face yours. But that’s about as far as it goes when it comes to your closeness. You’re not familiar enough with him to text each other or to think of each other in a time of need, so to have his first texts to you be about him being out of toilet paper is a thing to really dwell on to fully understand the extent of the bad impression this man had on you.

you – what the fuck

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – just open the window and throw me some lee donghyuck (film theory class) – i am good at catching

you – im in a hurry rn. gotta get to class

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – SO DO I why else do u think id be up this early lee donghyuck (film theory class) – so PLEASE throw me the damn toilet paper so im not late today

Shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you’re currently having, too confused and tired to deal with it so early in the morning, you walk up to your room and look out of the window. Right opposite of you, not being further than 10 meters, if you’re being absolutely exact, is Lee Donghyuck’s head popping out from the bottom rim of his bathroom window, seemingly still sitting on the toilet. The look in his eyes is desperate as he clasps his hands together and mouths “Please!” at you, his face forming into a truly humiliating scowl that makes you wonder if he's truly done with what he'd been doing on the toilet only a few minutes prior.

Sighing, you turn on your feet and escape your room– not noticing the absolutely disturbed and mortified face Donghyuck’s pulling behind your back, thinking you abandoned him and took off for class– and you truly can’t believe yourself when you walk into your own bathroom and take the half-used roll of toilet paper off the stand, murmuring a silent “Fucking hell” under your nose as you walk back to your bedroom and open up your window wide. Donghyuck’s eyes light up now, as if he was a kid under a Christmas tree about to receive a gift from Santa.

“If it falls to the street, I’m not getting it!” you yell after the boy, seeing as he eagerly nods and ushers you with a wave of his hands.

“Just throw it and I’ll be sure to catch it!” he nods, waiting for you to start your career in the new twist on baseball– a sport you’d call a toilet roll throw against the street. His eyes seem focused, knowing this is his only opportunity at wiping his ass this morning (why neither of you thought of suggesting to use the shower instead, you don't know to this day– perhaps it was too early in the morning for such complex strategies), when you surprisingly do your best at aiming for his window– thank god you both live on the same floor– and throw the roll across the alleyway, the paper unwinding only slightly before it lands on the floor of Lee Donghyuck’s pearl white bathroom.

“Thank you so much, you are my savior!” he yells, his head disappearing from the window, leaving you alone in your room to watch the commotion. When nothing happens for a while, you only shake your head in disbelief once again, deciding your job here is over and you can finally take off for your dreaded lecture.

“I’ll get going!” you scream into the void, scratching the back of your neck, aimlessly.

“Mhm! See you later!”

Nodding to yourself, you sigh, closing the window and doing a double take as you’re about to leave your flat for class, hopefully still on time. In disbelief, feeling the second-hand embarrassment seeping to your bones, you put on your shoes at the entrance and swear to yourself that you’re never gonna answer any of Lee Donghyuck’s texts ever again.

The previous scene already established that you’re no stranger to second hand embarrassment. I’m sure all of you have experienced it before– seeing someone desperately flirt with your friend, knowing that they’re not interested… Watching a drama and being absolutely grossed out with the script, wondering how the actors got convinced to take on the role… Hearing someone say an absurd answer in class… There are many, for sure, and the list could just keep going. You saw it with your own eyes as well, when your friend Choi Beomgyu tried hard to impress a girl at the skate park and managed to fall off his skateboard mid-trick, tearing his jeans in the crotch area in the process. Or when your roommate Aeri got tipsy at the club and who she thought was a very fine gentleman to flirt with was actually her ex boyfriend. The list goes on and on.

What about first hand embarrassment, though? You’re sure you experienced it before as well, but if anyone asked you, you’d tell them you don’t remember any embarrassing stories. If it’s because you just don’t want anyone knowing about the shame in your bones or if you really hated those experiences so much you chose to bury them and extract them out of your memory, you won’t tell. You just won’t let the shame haunt you for any longer than it has to, that’s for sure.

So when you walk home from the hairdresser one afternoon and you’re met with your roommate Aeri looking at you with lips pressed together, yet the corners tugging upwards in what you assume (and fully know) is her trying to hold back an amused laugh, you admit that your suspicions were indeed correct when you saw yourself in the mirror at the salon and you’re going to have to live through another embarrassing moment. One that will take days and weeks to outlive as well, since your hair doesn’t grow back overnight– and when you look into the mirror again, you’re terrified.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing, it’s just… you look… well, you know, it’s just…” she mumbles, before she finally breaks into a loud laugh, standing behind you and examining the state of your hair in the mirror of your entrance hall with you, hands coming up to play with your strands and hold them up and down, brushing your bangs out of your face and ruffling the top– trying everything possible to find a single good hairdo with the haircut you have going on right now. “Oh babygirl… what did the do to your beautiful hair…” she mourns, the tone of her voice still amused, but now also kind of considerate.

“I told her I only wanted a trim,” you say, voice weak in what you realize is you holding back your tears and suppressing a mental breakdown, “how the fuck am I supposed to show my face to the world tomorrow?”

Your roommate sighs at you, spinning you around so you no longer can see the disaster on your head, a pout forming on her face as she lightly shoves you deeper into the apartment. “At a second glance, it’s really not that bad, you know–”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” you cut her off, annoyed at her soft eyes.

“I don’t?” she looks at you, shocked irises hardening when she realizes you no longer need her sympathetic words. “Okay, thank god. Man, she fucked you uuup, leave a bad review like, right now. I’d cry myself to sleep if I got a haircut like that–”

“I take it back, I liked your lies better,” you roll your eyes at her, walking over to the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water to calm down your racing heart. The mental breakdown is still right around the corner and you realize you have to do everything in your power to stop it, because you already have a fucked up haircut– you can’t afford to show up to class tomorrow with puffy eyes and stress-induced pimples as well. Gulping down the cold liquid, you decide to hop into the shower (and avoid looking in the mirror at all costs, which is kind of difficult, since there's three of them just on your way to the bathroom).

Meeting the encouraging eyes of your roommate once you come out of the shower, hair tied up in a towel so you don't have to think about it any longer, Aeri's words reach your ears in the living room. “Come on, I’m sure we can manage to do something with this tomorrow morning,” she smiles, “at least you have a pretty face. You can pull off everything!”

And the truth is, even though Aeri is nice, she’s not always right. You’re met with the fact the next morning as you watch your reflection in the mirror before you both leave for your shared Film theory class, standing next to each other defeated; one breathtakingly beautiful and one looking like the main character from Chicken little. You'd be fine with it if it was only you who was aware of your disastrous image, you would be able to deal with the shame and insecurity silently– but that's not what happens as you’re only reminded by the fact that other people, sadly, do perceive you, against your biggest wishes, throughout the whole day.

You’re reminded by the fact that your haircut is fucked up when Ji Changmin, the guy you share an Animation class with, sees you in the corridor and does the yikes face at you and his friend Sunwoo hides his face from you as they turn the corner. You’re reminded by the fact again when you see Jisu, the ever-so-sweet girl that majors in Finance, the girl that’s friends with everyone in this school, look at you with a considerate look, patting your shoulder when she passes you by before you enter your Film theory classroom.

And most importantly, you’re reminded by the fact when you finally sit down– at the very back of the classroom, which is both valid and understandable, considering your current state– and you’re met with a thud of a backpack to your left, a figure sitting down on the usually vacant spot. Clenching your jaw and looking up to see its owner, mentally preparing yourself for the teasing that’s about to come, you meet eyes with a tall, sleek man, shirt tucked into his black jeans and a sigh of relief escaping his throat as he sits down on the uncomfortable chair. Lee Donghyuck waves at you in greeting when he notices you there, running his hand through his neatly styled hair.

“Hi there,” he breathes out, “can’t believe I made it on time. My alarm didn’t go off and my roommate couldn’t be arsed to wake me, even though our morning lectures start at the same time, so I had to run and my usual seat is taken already… hope you don’t mind me sitting here– woah.”

And here it is again– the feeling of absolute humiliation as the man scans you up and down, eyes bearing into yours with an unreadable look on his face. Is this how he felt when he texted you to throw toilet paper through his bathroom window? Or was he immune to the shame?

“Did you get a new haircut?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you in question.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sigh, already annoyed with his antics– because frankly, you know what will come next.

“That’s an interesting answer to a yes or no question,” he muses, chuckling to himself, “I’ll take it as a yes, though, but it seems like you’re not satisfied with the new look…”

“Woah. You should work with the FBI or something,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him and looking straight in front of you, praying for the class to start fast so you don’t have to interact with your neighbor any longer and listen to him make fun of you for your new look.

“Why? It doesn’t look bad at all,” he says, the tone of his voice fakely considerate, making you want to punch him in the gut, “It’s interesting. I like it. It shows off your eyes and your forehead more, since your bangs are way shorter now,” he says, putting emphasis on the fact that your bangs truly are half their original length– which wasn't your original plan at all– only riling you up more.

“Only thing left to add is that I have a massive forehead, isn’t it?” you ironically smile at him, and the male takes your word for it as his eyes focus on the exposed part of your skin, furrowed eyebrows and all, as he examines your features.

“Not massive, but it’s a little… like, I wouldn’t say–”

“Just don’t say anything, okay?” you sigh, cutting him off and folding your arms at your chest in a poor attempt at defending yourself.

“Geez, why are you so snappy? I was complimenting you, y'know,” he says, and if you were more stupid, you’d even believe him– the tone of his voice still sounds genuine, but that’s just the way your neighbor likes to deceive people, and you know that; you’ve seen it happen multiple times before. “It adds character.”

The comment makes you roll your eyes, all words taken off your tongue– you simply think there’s no use defending your atrocious haircut now (not that you tried defending it before, even you aren't that oblivious). Your gaze is focused anywhere but at your seatmate, counting down the minutes until the class starts and you're taken out of your misery for at least an hour and a half. Your Film theory professor is almost never late and now is the only day you’re content and happy about the fact, because it means you won’t have to listen to Lee Donghyuck for more than approximately 2 more minutes until the small, hunched over frame of your professor strides through the door.

Still, you feel his burning gaze to the side of your face, and despite your best intentions, you snap your head towards him and bite at the annoying gemini.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” you spit, scoffing at the male.

“Can I really?” he asks, and before you have a chance to disagree, his phone is shoved into your point of view and the shutter comes off, making you lounge after the man in a poor attempt at taking his phone away and deleting the first picture of your new hair ever taken. (Well, except for the one you took crying last night, with a peace sign and your tongue darted to the side against your mirror. You don’t need any more traces of your current haircut than that one.)

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – hi neigbor whatchu doin lee donghyuck (film theory class) – u have a car right

Squinting at the next text conversation with Lee Donghyuck, the first one since he asked you for toilet paper 3 weeks ago, you feel nothing more than pure confusion at the strange questions the man asks you in the middle of the night. It’s Friday evening and your roommate went out with a guy named Eric she met four weeks ago in the gym, and even though you were slightly concerned when she texted you to say she was staying over at his house for the first time, you only showed her support as you went to lay down with no other plans for your evening. Falling asleep to your midnight playlist playing in the background (thanking God for the smart feature that makes the music shut off after 30 minutes), it's completely understandable and predictable that the noise of an incoming text annoys you when you hear it only a few minutes after 2 in the morning. The fact that it’s your neighbor texting you, out of all people, only makes the fury in you bigger as you click your tongue and shoot him a quick text back.

you – what do u want

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – neighbor!!!!! lee donghyuck (film theory class) – you do have a car

Staring at the text that just appeared on your screen, you sigh and decide to spill the truth, preparing for whatever request that’s about to come after you admit to the fact that you do, indeed, have a perfectly functioning vehicle parked behind the building.

you – yes

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – perfect lee donghyuck (film theory class) – do u hav sm time on ur hands

you – im sleeping

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – veryfunny youre replying rn tho lee donghyuck (film theory class) – come on itsa simple request

Breaking your back just to decipher the words through the amount of typos Lee Donghyuck’s making, your annoyance only grows bigger. Has he always been a bad texter? You don’t remember him struggling as much when he was sitting on the toilet three weeks ago– his texts were absolutely clear and with 0 mistakes back then. Maybe he was in a more desperate situation back then, after all…

you – what do u want hyuck its late

lee donghyuck (film theory class) – can u drive me home

And here it goes– in the back of your mind, you somehow knew it was coming. There were only a few reasons why someone would ask if you owned a car, and judging by the fact that it was now 2 in the morning on a Friday night, your neighbor wasn’t trying to sell you a new vehicle just in case you didn't have one yourself. Getting a drive home would be the only logical request from someone asking if you owned a car– it would only be more logical if the person asking you was your friend, and not an acquaintance at best.

Staring at the screen of your phone, counting down from 10 to not snap at the ridiculous request, you watch as the device lights up with an incoming call. You don’t even have to look at the caller ID to know who’s calling, and despite your best assumptions, you pick up with no more thought given, waiting for the person on the other side of the line to speak first.

“Y/N,” he says, voice breathless.

“Lee Donghyuck.”

“Can you please drive me home?” he asks, tone of voice lazy and tired, something about the dragging of his words hinting you that there’s more to the request than you’re grasping right now.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, right off the bat, to clear out any confusion.

There’s a short silence on the other side of the line, one that hints that you’re completely right in your assumptions, but you still want to hear it from the guilty man himself. “Maybe a little,” he admits, snickering, “I was over at Yangyang’s and then he kicked me out and I… my legs hurt too much to walk home.”

Sighing loudly at the man’s antics, you shake your head in disbelief and clear your throat. “I don’t see how that’s my problem?”

“Oh, come oonnn,” he drags out, “it’s not that far.”

“Yeah, so I don’t see how you can’t walk back, then?” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the demanding tone in your neighbor’s voice. If it was anyone else, maybe, just maybe, you’d be on your way already. You never decline your friend’s requests for favors, since you know they’d do the same if you asked, but you don’t really see how Lee Donghyuck, a man you’re not even close to in the first place, could repay the favor. What on Earth was he thinking in the first place when he called you? Were you his last option? Is he out of his mind?

“Because my legs hurt, if you were paying attention, you’d know that I told you before–”

“I don’t really care,” you mutter, “this is not my problem, I’m ending the call now, goodbye!”

“Y/N!”

The tone of his voice is desperate. Laced in agony, even. Still, you don’t care as you cut off the line and close your laptop that's been your source of music during the late night, settling deeper into your sheets. This is not your circus, not your monkeys, and frankly, you don’t really care what happens to Lee Donghyuck on his way home from Yangyang’s house, no matter how drunk or high he is right now. The man has done nothing but annoy you in your short, 23 year old life, and you’re not going to change out of your pajamas just to drive a few miles to get your dumb neighbor back home.

You’re not going to lose your beauty sleep for this. No, not at all.

Still, your eyes only close when you see the light in Lee Donghyuck’s room go on and the shadow of his slouched figure safely hits his bedsheets, another smaller frame coming to close his door and shut the blinds off, turning the light back off.

The next Monday, you find yourself sitting in your Film theory class alongside your roommate Aeri that’s currently snoozing in the middle of the lecture. You can’t really blame her, since she only got home from her romantic retreat (read as: hanging out at Eric Sohn’s house the whole weekend and having sex possibly on every surface of his little flat downtown) on Sunday evening, and you can only imagine that she didn’t have much sleep during her stay there.

And the class was boring, to add another reason for your roommate's nap. It’s not like you weren’t interested in the theory behind every movie, like the topic itself wasn’t interesting– you quite enjoyed wondering about all the special details in each movie that complete the story and make the atmosphere pop just in the right way– but the professor currently standing at the very bottom of the auditorium is old enough to be there when the Lumiére brothers showed the first ever movie to the public back in the 19th century, and his age only matches with the monotonous style of his teaching. Which means that his voice is mellow, but close enough to a lullaby, and with the amount of issues you have when paying attention in general, the lack of focus caused by this only feeds your distraction during the lectures, resulting in you not really being the top of the class in this specific subject.

So when you hear the professor mutter something under his nose about a project in pairs you’ll have to submit until the end of the semester, you feel your heart drop down to your stomach, all alert. Suddenly, you’re 100% present, brain racking about all the possible solutions and ways you could go around this just so you could pass the subject this year.

Because frankly speaking, at the moment, you’re failing the class. And if you don’t manage to get a good grade on this final project, you’re going to have to retake the class next year– and trust me, another year listening to the monotonous lectures won’t make you pass easier, since you can only imagine the boredom will only grow once you’re in this class the second year in a row and you'd already heard all of the lectures once before.

“What was that?” Aeri mumbles under her nose when she notices you staring at the front of the classroom with wide eyes, an expression close to one you'd wear after seeing a ghost (with the age of your professor, you might as well have). She often tells you you look like a deer in the headlights when you get shocked or stressed-out, and you can’t say that comment doesn’t make you insecure. Still, you can’t quite control it when you sigh and turn to your roommate with a distressed look on your face.

“We have a final assignment to do,” you mumble, “in pairs.”

“Amazing, we’re doing it together, then,” she yawns, stretching a little before slumping over the desk again, ready for round two of her nap.

“Fuck no,” you quickly dart, looking at her with furrowed brows.

“What do you mean, no?”

Sighing, watching as she opens her eyes and looks at you with an offended expression on her face, you shake your head in disapproval and lower your voice, careful to explain yourself. “Look, girl, I love you, you know that,” you assure, “but we are both failing this fucking class. And I can’t afford to do badly just because the both of us suck, because I am not retaking this atrocious class ever again, so I suggest that the both of us find someone with good grades to leech from and get this over with.”

Aeri squints at you, seemingly lost in thought– more so contemplating your master plan– before she leans back in her chair and cautiously looks around the room. “You have a point there.”

“See? It’s nothing personal,” you chuckle, seeing as your roommate nods to herself.

“Okay, I’ll flutter my eyelashes at Shotaro,” she turns to you, eyes bright with the newly made plan, “we’re both Japanese, so he’s not legally allowed to turn me down.”

Rolling your eyes at her comment, you only nod in approval to her idea. Shotaro was one of the best in this class, so you can imagine that working with him would satisfy your professor enough to let Aeri pass the class this year. The only thing left to do was find the culprit to your own plan– you needed to team up with someone good enough to at least make you get a D on your final. And since half of the class was just as good as you in this particular subject, there weren’t many candidates left.

Eyes scanning the crowd (thank god you chose to sit in the back again), your gaze lands on a particular man sitting a few rows under you, a little bit to your right. Helplessly searching through the flood of your classmates currently occupying the auditorium, you sigh to yourself in realization, already dreading what’s about to come when the class is dismissed and you hurriedly walk over to the only person that can help you now, before he escapes the university grounds and you’re going to have to shamefully text him or ring his doorbell this afternoon.

“Donghyuck! Wait!” you yell after him, legs taking you closer to the man in question, now standing still in the middle of the moving crowd, watching you in curiosity.

“What’s up, neighbor?” he asks with a lazy smile, the tug at his lips only making your blood boil and your insides tighten into a bundle of nerves. Everything about him was ticking you off, the slouch in his shoulders making you want to stand behind him and fix his bad posture and slap the back of his head so you no longer have to look at him standing like a hermit crab, the glint in his eyes making you want to curl your fingers into a fist and slam your hand against a wall. The seemingly strong emotions of annoyance run through your veins whenever you interact with Lee Donghyuck, it seems, but the senile voice of your professor keeps repeating itself somewhere in the back of your head throughout the whole interaction, and so you choose to take a deep breath in and out before you smile at the man and prepare your best speech– you can't afford to be picky with this any longer.

“Who are you doing the project with?” you ask innocently at first, trying to get some info out of him.

He offers you a suspicious look, but replies nonetheless. “I’m not sure yet,” he sighs, “I was thinking of chasing down Haknyeon, but you stopped me in my tracks…” he shakes his head at you, teasing.

“Hmm, I see,” you mumble, more for the effect than for anything else, “well, what if we do it together?”

There aren’t many instances in which you could catch Lee Donghyuck completely silent. Now is one of them, though, as he watches you with wide, surprised eyes, furrowed brows and his plump lips slightly agape, breathing in a few times before he shakes his head as if to reset the system, snickering to himself. “Us two?”

“Yeah, why not?” you peep, shrugging.

“Look, respectfully,” Donghyuck starts, and you brace yourself for the impact, “your grades in this class aren’t as good as mine, and even though I’d love to do it with you, I don’t wanna be the one doing all the work and–”

“I’ll help!” you snap, maybe too urgently for your own liking. “I promise. I’ll do everything in my power, I just really need your help with this,” you plea, looking at him with what you pray are your best puppy eyes, seeing as the man in front of you chuckles at the expression and averts his gaze from you for a heartbeat, signaling that you were most likely unsuccessful at the attempt.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he shrugs, shaking his head at you, even going as far as taking one step away from you, “see, if you hadn't declined my call on Friday, maybe I’d take this offer as a way to repay the favor, but you know…”

“I threw you toilet paper before, Donghyuck, you can’t be shitting me right now–” you feel your blood boil at the note, the ever so familiar annoyance seeping back into your bones.

“That was nothing–”

“You seemed pretty desperate back then.”

“That was the past, sweetheart,” he chuckles, taking another step away from you, somehow overthrowing your annoyance with pure, embarrassing desperation as you chase after him and stop him with a swift motion of your hand, catching him by his wrist. He stares at you with a shiteating grin on his face, one he always uses to get a reaction from you, and somehow, you know this is all a game for him, a stupid tug of war, but you can’t help it– you are in a desperate situation. So if you need to say please to the man and humiliate yourself in front of him just to pass this class, then so be it.

“Please, Hyuck? Just this once, I swear I’ll make it up to you. Literally, say anything, I’m gonna do it, I just really need to pass this class,” you mumble, a pout forming at your lips as you clasp your hands together– much like he did back when you two communicated through the window of his bathroom– and you swear you can see the gears in his brain turning when he calculates his next move and tells you his answer.

“Anything?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, hoping that Lee Donghyuck still has some dignity in him and wouldn’t ask for anything that would make you uncomfortable. He’s annoying, sure, but he’s not a dick, after all.

“Okay, then,” he nods, tone of voice airy, underlined with laughter, “be my personal driver for the entirety of the project, then. I’ll do it if you drive me places,” he grins, and that’s when your composure falls.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then, say goodbye to the grade!”

Putting your arm around the passenger’s seat headrest, twisting your whole body as you look back and reverse the car into the parking spot in front of the mall, you see the figure next to you still in its place, eyes alert and staring at you. “If you’re so terrified of me driving, why did you want me to do this in the first place?” you sigh, finally turning back to the front and turning the engine off once you're standing straight between the lines, satisfied with your job.

“That’s- that’s not it,” he clears his throat and gulps nervously, shaking his head. “Anyways, let’s go,” Donghyuck says, slapping his thighs like parents do when it’s time to leave a family gathering, grinning at you widely as he waits for you to get out of the vehicle.

“What do you mean, let’s go? I drove you here, I can go now,” you glare, not satisfied with the way your Wednesday afternoon was going. You only agreed to the deal on Monday, and Donghyuck already made you drive him home after class twice and also asked you to drive him to the school this morning. Having him constantly leeching around you and making you drive him places wasn’t exactly fun, since he always asked weird questions and made fun of your bored face at every red light, so you really, desperately, needed him to be gone already so you could head home and scream into your pillow to unwind the nerves.

“Well, how am I supposed to get back when I’m done shopping?” he innocently asks, pouting at you. “My hands are gonna be full with bags and you’re gonna have to come pick me up, because that’s the deal, and I can’t afford to wait with my hands full until you get back here, so you might as well stay and come with me, so it’s convenient.”

“Nothing about this is convenient for me,” you mumble, but comply with his orders nonetheless. “Why don’t you get a car? Or take a bus back?”

“Buses smell and I don’t have a license,” he mutters, “besides, I have you now to be my personal taxi driver, so I don't need a car,” he shrugs, walking alongside you to the mall.

His confession startles you, makes you halt in your step as the boy looks at you with defeated eyes, already knowing what’s next. This scenario has happened to him multiple times before– he’s best friends with Huang Renjun and Liu Yangyang, he’s in for a teasing at every single action of his that goes just slightly wrong– but to hear it from you will surely feel more humbling to the man. Closing his eyes as if to not see the grin overtaking your features, he sighs. “What?”

“You don’t have a license?” you tease, snickering. “For real?”

“No.”

“Why? You failed the test?” you ask again, catching up to the male and falling in with his quick pace, enjoying the fact that you now have the upper hand on him for once.

“Never really tried getting it in the first place,” he mumbles, shrugging.

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he shamefully ducks his head, “it seems scary,” he adds, making you snort out at his confession.

“Fucking hell dude,” you laugh out now, swatting his shoulder in a teasing manner, “that’s so embarrassing, it’s not even really that difficult in the first place–”

“I don’t know what’s more embarrassing,” he cuts you off, tone of voice laced with frustration as he realizes you are a bit too amused at him admitting to one of his fears, “is it me not having a license or you driving me around because you're failing a class… Hm?” he asks, locking eyes with you, lips pressed shut into a straight line, and suddenly, your composures exchange. He won. Again.

“Anyways, let’s get going!” he smiles, dismissing the previous discussion as he tugs you by your hand into one of the stores right in the middle of the mall.

You should’ve already predicted that shopping with Lee Donghyuck would be exhausting. Not only did he demand to know your opinion on every single thing he tried on, he also wanted you to pick up something for him to try– as if driving him here wasn’t too much work for you as it was. All you wanted to do was walk back to your car and get away from him as soon as possible, but with the way he teasingly poked your sides every time you weren’t paying attention and turned to your phone to entertain yourself with some mindless scrolling on social media, you weren’t able to escape even mentally, no matter how hard you tried.

“Why don’t you try something on?”

“I’m not in the mood,” you glare, walking out of the last store in the whole entire mall, the sky behind the glass doors already dark from how late it’s gotten. You’re pretty sure it’s gonna close soon, but checking the time on your phone, you’re relieved to learn that you still have enough time to get boba from the stand at the entrance of the mall. You deserve a little treat after involuntarily hanging out with Lee Donghyuck the whole day, after all. Call it your girl dinner, or something.

“Taro milk tea with coconut jelly, please,” you smile at the tired barista behind the counter, noticing the way Donghyuck stands next to you and looks at the menu. You expect him to order a drink for himself as well, and surely, he doesn’t disappoint as he smiles at the girl, the tone of his voice sweet and considerate– so far away from the way he speaks to you on a daily basis– as he asks for his own drink.

“Will you pay together or separately?” she asks.

“Separate–”

“Together,” your companion cuts you off, grinning at you when you glare at the man, sighing at his antics.

“Come on, I already drive you everywhere, do you think gas is cheap? Now you want me to pay for your boba as well?” you whine, reaching for your wallet as you frown at the male, his confused eyes bearing into yours when he slightly nudges you from his way, offering the girl behind the counter his card instead. The action shuts you up, making the gears in your brain turn faster as you watch him in the action, and it doesn't fully register yet, but you're left feeling a bit taken aback and sheepish when the cashier hands him the receipt.

“I was gonna buy it for you as a thank you for the nice day, but now you’re making me look like I felt pressured to,” he sighs, shaking his head at your little tantrum. His actions still don’t register in your brain, though, his words resonating all the way through your ears to your Wernicke’s area and right back, hanging everywhere in the air of the mall, shock making your body still. Then, it hits you.

“Ah,” you gasp, feeling the tips of your ears burning with shame at the fact that you managed to ruin his nice gesture, your eyes scanning the space in a poor attempt to not look at him or the cashier still watching your exchange.

“Get your drink and let’s go,” he nudges you instead, rolling his eyes for good measure as he walks out of the mall, nearing your car in the parking lot.

“Look at this, look! Isn’t it funny?” Donghyuck hovers over you with his phone in his hand, giggling to himself as he tries to make you look at the screen. You don’t really know why he’s trying to get a laugh out of you, honestly, but he’s currently doing everything but that as you’re sat in his living room, legs plopped up onto the sofa and crossed in front of you, waiting patiently– but also kind of boiling on the inside out of frustration– for him to pay attention to you.

“Hyuck, I didn’t come here to watch Tiktoks with you,” you say, eyes sharp, tone of your voice cutting like razors– efficiently making him look up from his screen and meet your gaze with an amused grin, “I’m not really sure if you forgot, but I came to discuss the project,” you mutter, sighing.

“Jeez,” you see him roll his eyes, the energy around him still not shifting as he maintains his casual and unfocused composure, but you know that on the inside, he's enjoying the view– your angry face seems to be his most favorite thing to stare at recently, “didn’t know you lack a sense of humor.”

“What?” you look at him, confused, quite frankly, before you shake your head in disbelief at the comment. “You know what, just put the phone away for 5 seconds and finally talk to me about the project, smart boy, or else I’m not wasting my time here any longer and I’m leaving.”

“You’re acting as if you’re the one putting in work,” he mumbles, snickering.

“I will be putting in work when you tell me what to do!”

At your sentence, Donghyuck finally puts his phone back at the coffee table and shifts a little in his seat, facing you and scratching the back of his head, seemingly lost in thought. You let him, convinced that if you speak up and cut off his train of thought, the poor boy wouldn’t be able to get back to it again, waiting for him to be done with his brain weaving so you can pick up on them and ride them out, seeming at least decently smart (or not completely stupid). When he finally speaks up, he licks his lips and shrugs.

“We just gotta pick a theme and do our best portraying it with no words in a 3 minute clip, right?” he asks you in reassurance, as if you were the most reliable source of information when it comes to this class and its assignments.

“Yeah,” still, you agree.

“Well, then we just gotta pick a theme and the rest will be easy,” he nods to himself, reaching back for his phone, which you swiftly take from his hold and hide behind your body.

“Hey–”

“We’re not done talking about this! I’m not letting you use your phone, because you’re just gonna scroll on Tiktok instead of thinking about this,” you squint at him, twisting and turning in your seat as his hands try to sneak around your sitting figure and take the device out of your grasp.

He seems determined as his arm lands on your elbow, a victorious grin smoothly swiped off his face when you sit on his phone and flash him a wide grin. “I’ll give it back when we have the theme down!”

“That’s an invasion of my privacy,” Donghyuck mumbles, and you roll your eyes at him, pointing a finger to his shoulder.

“That’s not what an invasion of privacy means, but whatever floats your boat…” you mumble, watching him sit back in his seat, defeated as his shoulders slouch and his gaze is glued to the wall in front of him. You’re not sure what’s so interesting about the white paint, but at least there’s not the noise of his phone filling your ears right now– you’re more than okay with silence, since you don't get to hear it often when Donghyuck is present. You would like it better if he spoke up and talked to you about the assignment, but if you had to choose between him being annoying and him being quiet, you think everyone knows which one of the two you’d prefer.

“So?” you test the waters after a while, seeing if your project partner decides to finally comply with your request and discuss the important matters.

“So? Do you got any ideas?” he teases, watching you with challenging eyes.

Clearing your throat, caught off guard at the request– you assumed he’d tell you exactly what to do and you just have to do it and follow his lead, essentially not putting in much effort and still being sure of passing the class– but it seems like Lee Donghyuck won’t let you off that easily. You should've expected it. Being difficult is his favorite hobby, after all.

“Well, you’re the smart one here, so…” you shrug, trying the method that always works on men– and that is praising them.

“So you’re saying you’re stupid?”

“If it works in my favor during this conversation, then sure,” you nod, smiling at him in irony. Hyuck gives you a defeated sigh, shaking his head at you before he clicks his tongue at you and finally gives in.

“Okay, so, I was thinking we should pick a theme that fits the current social struggles, but after hearing this, I don't think feminism is our best choice,” he mutters.

“Like you’d know anything about feminism–”

“What do you have me for?” Donghyuck sharply glares at you, clicking his tongue at you in pure offense. “I am a fan of Little women, I'll have you know, of course I’m a feminist.”

“Well, you must be a fake fan, since everything about this deal is just me majorly girlbossing,” you point out, trying really hard to prove your point.

“Are you even being serious right now–”

“Anyways,” you cut him off, “what were you thinking?”

The man sighs and shakes his head at you in disbelief, but still speaks up again nonetheless. “I was thinking, well, maybe we could pick something that would really play into the old man’s feelings, you know, so we get him all sentimental and moved to tears…” he starts off, tone of voice now completely serious, making him sound kind of smart– startling you in the process, “that leaves us with a few possible options. We could do something with the 18 hundreds, or… fishing? I heard he’s into fishing. Or we could do something more abstract and shoot something about youth, since he’s very old and this could get him nostalgic. Or!” he suddenly perks up in his seat, eyes wide and a disturbing grin sitting at his lips, “we could include nudity! He’s a man, after all… wanna shoot porn? We don’t need words for porn.”

In absolute disbelief, you stare at the man with eyes wide open, blinking a few times and taking a few seconds to yourself to process the monologue you just listened to. You knew he was absolutely insufferable, but you didn’t know he was this much of a dumb freak.

Taking your silence for disgust, Donghyuck just nods to himself and purses his lips.

“Youth it is, then… I mean, nudity would be difficult to present in front of the class for sure–” he admits, pouting.

“Yeah, like that’s the only problem with that idea…”

Afternoon classes aren’t your favorite ones of the week and although you absolutely despise waking up early and having to commute to university while you’re still half-asleep and absolutely irritated, there’s nothing that infuriates you more than knowing you could be done with the day already, sitting at home and watching your favorite TV show, only if it wasn’t for the responsibility of having to stay at campus and sit through another hour and a half lecture on a Thursday afternoon, way too late for your brain to be working in those hours.

This is one of the only classes you don’t share with your roommate Aeri– which makes the lecture that more excruciating, since you don’t have anyone with you that you could gossip with about your classmates or friends from back home when it gets too boring and you can't bear sitting in silence and forcing yourself to focus anymore– but there is one person from your circle that you do share this class with, and yes, you already guessed it; it’s Lee Donghyuck.

You don’t know when you’ve gotten so close to the point where he sits in the vacant seat right next to you almost immediately, followed by his friend Ju Haknyeon who you’ve never even spoken to before, but he still does so nonetheless, every Thursday, just so he could annoy you with his only half-funny remarks to every other sentence that comes out of your Animation class professor’s mouth.

“What are you doing this weekend?” you hear Haknyeon ask the devil sitting on your left, and trust me, you don’t really like listening to other people’s conversations (that’s a lie, you live for gossip. You just wish you knew the least amount of information about Lee Donghyuck as possible, because sometimes you learn fun facts you wish never joined your brain), but you can’t really help it this time, can you? Haknyeon doesn’t know what whispering is, and you’re convinced Donghyuck would love everyone to hear him talk and give him attention anyway.

“Not really sure,” Donghyuck replies, “Renjun bailed on me, said he’s going to the shelter with his girlfriend again, so I was thinking, right? You know, I’d looove to go on a road trip, and it’s crazy, you know, because–”

The words coming out of his mouth instantly make you alert, snapping your head around to make eye contact with the man that’s already staring at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing you’re listening to them talk. “Lee Donghyuck, I am not going on a road trip with you–”

“See, Y/N here is my personal driver for the semester, so she can’t really say no–” Donghyuck continues, enjoying the way your face distorts into a pained scowl, your hand coming up into your hair to tug at the roots in frustration.

“If you make me do this, I’m going to open your door while we’re going 120km/h on a crowded highway and throw you out so you die under the wheels of someone else and I don't face the consequences,” you propose, shaking your head in disbelief, your voice shushed due to you still not wanting to be heard by the whole classroom, but still loud enough for both of the boys to chuckle.

“Come on, I bet you’d have fun. I have the best playlists for road trips, you know,” Hyuck teases, poking you with the tip of his pen, to which you click your tongue and move a bit further away from the male.

“The last time I drove you somewhere that was more than a 10 minute drive, you had Céline Dion on loop, so I don’t know just how believable this claim is.”

“That’s disrespectful to the legend Céline Dion is, dear Y/N, and I’d take it back before her ghost comes to haunt you at night.”

“Is she even dead in the first place?” you squint at him, at disbelief of his words.

“She’s not,” Haknyeon chimes in from the side, shaking his head at the both of you before he chuckles, “you two argue like a married couple.”

“I would rather die than to marry him–”

“See, Hak, Y/N just hasn’t realized she’s in love with me yet,” Hyuck adds, clicking his tongue at his seatmate, “but she’s gonna realize it somewhere during our 5 hour long road trip, I’m sure. Just wait, it’s gonna happen soon.”

The class gets dismissed somewhere in the middle of the argument, and as you’re gathering your things to go, you hear the two of them talk among themselves, not really including you in their conversation anymore (which you’re glad for, frankly).

“Are you going home after class?” Haknyeon asks.

“No,” Donghyuck shakes his head in disapproval, and there it is– the shit-eating grin appears on his face when he initiates eye contact with you and snickers, “Y/N and I are actually getting fried chicken at this place downtown, since I got coupons– well, Renjun got coupons for free chicken from his uncle last week, but he doesn’t like chicken that much, so I stole them from him–”

“Huh?” you scowl at him, wondering if you heard right. “I’m not getting chicken with you.”

“Of course you are,” Hyuck announces, “the coupons expire tomorrow, so we gotta do it today. I know you’re not busy, come on.”

“I’d rather choke than to spend any more time with you than I already have today, Donghyuck. Go with Haknyeon,” you say, pointing to the clueless senior staring at the both of you in wonder.

“Yeah, go with me, man,” he shakes his head, “I like chicken.”

“Unfortunately, this offer only applies to people that have a working car that could drive me there, so in case you wanna get your shiny BMW fixed in the next 24 hours, I can save the coupons for you,” Hyuck chimes, smiling innocently at his friend.

“What are you even talking about?” you mutter, tone of voice pained.

“Look, do you wanna get out of the road trip on Saturday, or not?” he stares at you, his gaze flaming as you sigh more for him to hear than to get out your frustration– you learned long ago that it does nothing to calm you down, worse, it makes you even more infuriated.

“Woah, Donghyuck!” you exclaim, fake excitement written all over your features. “Chicken actually sounds so good right now!”

That’s how you appear in one of the fried chicken places downtown, your car parked in their tiny parking lot, with Donghyuck excitedly skipping towards the restaurant with the bunch of coupons in his hands. You don’t really know why he insists on spending time with you– he could get a bus here or drive with one of his other friends that own a car, and you’re certain you are not the only one on his list– so the whole interaction makes you slightly confused. Still, you enjoy the free meal– like any other broke college student would– and when Donghyuck eats, his mouth is usually shut, so you don’t find that many negatives in this whole thing, after all.

“What are you thinking of doing for the project, by the way?” you ask, wiping your greasy fingers on one of the napkins Hyuck had offered to you just a few seconds prior after noticing your dismay at the state of your hands. You don’t like it when you get dirty with food, but you’d rather not eat at all than to eat fried chicken with a fork, so you guess this is the price you have to pay.

“You keep talking about the project,” he shakes his head, chuckling, “don’t worry about it. I have it covered.”

“What do you mean, you have it covered? This is supposed to be teamwork. Just because I drive you around, it doesn’t mean I won’t put my hand in– you’ll complain too much if I don’t,” you mutter after you swallow, rolling your eyes at him. He keeps saying the same thing each time you ask him– you’re suspecting that he has zero idea at all, and he’s just bluffing to make you feel more comfortable. Hell, you might even fail while working with Donghyuck and your whole plan is going to be ruined, for all you know.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, grinning, “we got the theme, so half the work is already done. We’ll just have to take one day to shoot some scenes on a field or something, and then I can edit it and put some sad music over it, and we’re sold. Trust me, I am a straight A student, I know what I'm doing.”

“You are not a straight A student, Lee Donghyuck,” you glare at him, not believing a single word that's just came out of his mouth.

“Okay well,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his coca-cola that he got for free with the order, “maybe I’m not. But you can count on me with this, hon.”

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head at him. “Don’t ever call me that ever again.”

“Hyuck,” you call for the male, nestling a little in your seat and scratching the back of your neck in frustration.

“Hm?”

“You said we were going to work on the project today, am I correct?” you ask, watching as the male walks up to you from the kitchen area of the room, a bowl full of popcorn in his hand as he plops on the sofa next to you (on the only area that allows you to lay down comfortably and still face the TV, also known as the spot you’ve already laid on, making the two of you almost uncomfortably close in the small space), a bottle of coke situated under his right shoulder.

“Correct,” he nods, reaching for the TV remote he spent approximately 15 minutes searching for in between the cushions of the sofa when you arrived, screaming at his poor roommate for losing it again as the shorter boy just grimaced at you and escaped the flat to hang out with someone you heard him call RJ! y/n.

Humming to yourself, you nod. “Okay, then… why the living fuck are we watching Hunger games right now?” you ask, tone of voice laced in frustration.

Donghyuck doesn’t reply to you for a while as he fumbles with the TV remote (and frankly, you don’t really know why he’s so focused, it doesn’t take much to just press play), but when he looks back at you and sees your gaze impatiently glued to his forehead, he shrugs. “We gotta find some inspiration first, you know,” he innocently states, “Hunger games is a movie about youth if I’ve ever seen one.”

“We’ve both already seen Hunger games, Hyuck,” you whine, but take a hand-full of popcorn out of the bowl that’s currently sitting in his lap.

“How do you know that I have seen it already?”

“You just said so, you dumb fuck,” you mutter as you roll your eyes, watching the opening credits start. You can do nothing else than settle deeper into the sofa and watch the painfully long movie with your annoying neighbor now, and you despise the fact.

Well, you could do something else. There are many things, to be exact– you could either protest so much that Donghyuck finally gives in and turns the movie off, focusing his efforts into actually working on your project. If that doesn’t work, you can fight him for the remote, but you can’t really know if that wouldn’t make him pettily give you the silent treatment, which is exactly the opposite of what you’d like to be doing right now. Or you could just give up– seeing that you’re not gonna get much work done today– and stand up and go home. It’s not like you live that far away anyways…

But still, you stay and watch the movie with him. You’ve seen it at least three times already, having watched it recently with Aeri when the movie had its second wave of fame on Tiktok, so you’re pretty sure that if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to recite the script alongside the actors, word-for-word, 100% correct and exact, right on time. You stay and watch Hunger games with Lee Donghyuck– why exactly, you still don’t know– and you find yourself enjoying the experience. It’s not as boring when you hear your neighbor annoyingly comment on each and every little thing that happens in the movie, his nasal voice cracking jokes and jumping into the conversations as if he was a part of the cinematic universe. Somewhere along the way, you join in with him, laughing and giggling when your roleplay gets too silly, and before you know it, the movie is about to end and you’re finally going to be free to work on the project with him.

Donghyuck gets unusually quiet towards the last part of the movie. You turn your head to him, ready to crack jokes at the tears you’re expecting to see in his eyes because of the emotional outro– Katnis and Peeta’s berry scene got you the first and the second time you watched the movie, the third time not so much, since Aeri kept pausing the movie for pee breaks, ruining the full effect– only to witness the man’s head falling to your shoulder the exact second you try to lock your gaze with him; your neighbor having passed out somewhere in the middle of the movie. You foolishly jump just the slightest bit at the contact, opening your mouth to say something to him that could wake him up, your instincts telling you to move away from the already uncomfortable closeness of your bodies and give yourself more space.

But as your lips part and you’re about to protest, you notice his own lips apart in a small pout, his cheeks appearing softer now that one of them is smashed against your shoulder, his long eyelashes fanning over the bones of his cheeks. The blue hue of the TV paints his cheeks rosier in the dim light, making you notice the moles on his face for the first time– leading you to count them and mentally create constellations between them as your gaze focuses from all the different places of his face to another. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shut your mouth and awkwardly make yourself look away from your annoying neighbor, cracking the knuckles of your hands that have been resting in your lap; but when the credits of the movie roll and you have nowhere else to focus your gaze on, you find yourself scanning the man up and down again, orbs catching every detail of his suddenly so pure being.

He is wearing gray sweatpants, the fabric hanging low on his waist, a plain black tee adorning his upper figure. He doesn’t often look this casual when he comes to class, opting to wear jeans or pants more formal, so you foolishly admire the cozy fit he has going on, not quite used to seeing Donghyuck looking this homey. His clasped hands resting in his lap catch your attention next, the soft skin adorning his slender fingers looking way too inviting right now as you subconsciously want to glaze your fingertips against the surface of his palm, just to see if your suspicions are right and his skin is just as gentle as it seems to be to the eye, and you almost do it– for scientific reasons, of course– before you catch yourself and almost mentally slap yourself for being so foolish.

What the hell is going on with you right now? You should wake him up now– the movie is already over, there’s no use in you staying over any longer if he’s asleep and won’t work on the project with you anymore– but you find yourself freezing each time your eyes focus on the creature sleeping against your shoulder, so soft and comfortable it makes your insides squeeze in warmth. It’s a strange sensation, and even a stranger one to feel for a person that annoys you the most in this world, and you can't bring yourself to do anything else than to overthink the simple fact.

He can sleep for a few more minutes. You don’t mind. He must be tired, you think– he deserves 10 more minutes, maybe even 15– you won’t disturb him. The silence is strangely comforting, after all.

He can sleep for a few more minutes, you think– but the exact moment those thoughts roam around your head again, the front door to Donghyuck’s apartment opens and his roommate stands still in the doorframe of his living room, gazing at you with suspicion in his gaze. You quickly jump away from your project partner when eye contact with Huang Renjun is made, feeling the tips of your ears heating up in shame as you scatter to your feet and scramble for your things. You feel like you were just caught red-handed, doing something you shouldn’t have been doing, and you can’t bear the thought any longer. You need to get out.

A dissatisfied noise leaves Hyuck’s mouth as he wakes up to the impact of your movement, squinted eyes watching you as Renjun just laughs at your antics, shaking his head as if to tell you that he knows something you don’t. You don’t wanna hear it.

“Where are you going?” Donghyuck asks, voice laced with sleep.

“Home,” you snap, running your hand through your hair as you move through the door frame that separates the living room from their entrance hall. “We can’t work on the project if you’re asleep, so I might as well just go and not waste my time here any longer!” you offer him, making sure to save your face by putting just enough pretended frustration into the comment as you put on your shoes and don't look back at him– however inviting the mental image of him seems in your brain– before you shut the door after yourself and leave.

dongfuck – drive me to mcdonalds

you – well hello to you too you – no.

dongfuck – >:( dongfuck – please

you – its 2am dude

dongfuck – your point..?

Sighing, scrambling for your things as quietly as possible to not wake up your sleep deprived flatmate, you get dressed in comfortable sweatpants, throwing a hoodie on to shield yourself from the chilly air. The walk down the stairs doesn’t take you more than a few minutes before you’re standing in the parking lot of your apartment complex, already seeing Donghyuck’s figure leaning on the side of your car, almost looking like he owns it– he does act like it lately, to be fair.

“I knew you’d come,” he snickers as you roll your eyes at him, pressing the button on your car key to unlock the doors, watching as the man swiftly opens the driver’s side for you and then jogs towards the passenger’s side to get in, an excited stride in his step.

“I’m only here because I haven’t eaten dinner and chicken nuggets sound absolutely amazing right now,” you mutter, “don’t get too ahead of yourself. None of this is for you,” you grin, fastening your seatbelt and adjusting the rearview mirror just the slightest before turning on the engine and driving off the parking lot.

Donghyuck only shakes his head at you, a bright grin playing with his features. “Of course,” he hums, “wouldn’t want me to think that you actually want to hang out for once.”

“Of course,” you nod, “because that would be a lie. My goal is chicken nuggets, nothing else. And if I manage to get them out of you for free, that’s even better.”

“Who said I’m paying?”

“The gas station clerk did when I last went to get gas, actually! He told me I’m using twice as much gas lately because I’m driving a certain dumbass around, and I’m paying for all of the gas myself, can you believe it?” you shake your head, teasing him as you turn right on the main road, already seeing the McDonald’s in the distance.

“That’s a strange way to talk to a customer,” Donghyuck squints his eyes at you, watching as you slow down when getting into the food chain’s parking lot, ready to drive up to the drive-through window and order your late night snacks.

“At least he’s looking out for me,” you shrug, teasing the male. “I better order a hefty meal, since you’re paying and all…” you mumble, looking over the poster to your left, tapping your chin, trying to look lost in thought.

Hearing the man next to you scoff– already satisfied with how frustrated you’ve managed to make him– you pretend to look over the most expensive parts of the menu. “I’m starting to regret my decision,” Donghyuck adds, but the tone in his voice is light.

After a few more minutes of picking out your menu, you both order your meals and wait for them at the window. It doesn’t take long, since you’re the only ones in the whole place, and before you know it, Donghyuck is pressing his card into your palm, nudging you to pay for both of your meals. The gesture should be expected– you pretty much plastered him into doing this with how much you teased and complained– but it still shocks you when he does it with no other annoyed comments, watching as you offer it to the cashier and smile at him in thanks, taking the bags of food and driving off into the very back of the whole parking lot, turning the engine off and settling into the dark.

You tug your feet up to your seat, sitting crossed-legged in the small space as you face your companion, watching as he offers you the bag of food and digs into his own fries as well, scanning you from the corner of his eye. Now is the time you finally get to admire his attire for the first time the whole night– you never knew you had a thing for guys in sweatpants and oversized jackets, but the way your breathing almost catches in your throat at the sight of Donghyuck dressed so cozily again should be enough of a warning for you to the future. Forcefully taking your eyes off the male next to you, because you’d rather not think about the way you find yourself eyeing him lately, you eat your chicken nuggets– the ones you’ve dreamed of the whole night– and listen to the sound of your neighbor chewing on his burger.

Feeling his eyes on you, you glare at him. “What are you staring at?”

“No take a picture, it will last longer this time?”

“I learned my lesson from the last time,” you laugh, reminded of one of the first interactions you had with the male. “I hope you deleted the pictures, by the way.”

“No, I stare at them every night before I go to sleep,” he says, “so I’ll dream of you,” he sing-songs, laughing at the way your face distorts in discomfort at his words.

“Ah, so annoying,” you roll your eyes at him, but can’t battle the way your heart jumps a little at the sound of a laugh escaping his throat. Your eyes automatically trace his movements, noticing the way the far standing lamp post illuminates his face in just the right way, casting orange shadows over his features, making his eyes glimmer when they catch yours. Clearing your throat after being caught staring at him, you avert your gaze and finish the last of your fries, noticing the male done with his meal as well.

“Now what?” he asks.

“We go home, what else?” you laugh, shaking your head at his question.

“But I don’t wanna go home yet,” he whines, and you already know what’s coming– pursuing, weird ideas, absurd arguments just to make you stay longer. And you’re immune to them on most days, but it’s too late in the night, so you have to cut yourself some slack. So what if you don’t want to come back yet either? It’s not a crime to want to spend some time with Lee Donghyuck.

“What a shame,” still, you tease, waiting for him to come up with a bright idea that you could use as an excuse to stay out longer.

“Oh come on,” Donghyuck mutters, “you always ruin the fun. Teach me how to drive, what do you say?”

Shocked at his preposition, you turn to him again, wide eyes and mouth agape. “What? Absolutely not.”

“Why? The parking lot’s empty. I can’t possibly be that bad that I crash your car into nothing. Come on!” he pleads, going even as far as pouting at you– not really knowing that the expression has you shamefully stare at his lips for a split second, insides heating up– and realistically, you should have warning signs blinking at you from everywhere in your brain, an alarm going off to tell you that this is not a good idea at all, but you’re too stunned to come up with another plan for the rest of your evening, and, well, you may be getting a little weak for the annoying gemini. He's right, though– what could possibly go wrong?

So you only sigh in response, opening the door and getting out of your seat, watching as Donghyuck excitedly mirrors your motions and jogs to the driver’s seat, ready to possibly ruin your evening and your car at the same time. When you’re back safe inside of the car, you quickly fasten your seatbelt, a sign of your sense of self preservation still working well, watching Donghyuck move your seat further back so he can comfortably reach the pedals. His focused face is in your full view as he adjusts all the mirrors possible, and only then is when you notice him chewing on the inside of his cheek– in either nerves or concentration, you can’t really tell right now– and the sight makes you halt him in his motions before he manages to start the engine.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, watching as he turns to you with wide eyes, shaking his head in disagreement.

“No,” he peeps, laughing to himself, “Yangyang declined me the last time I asked.”

“Yeah, because he has a working brain,” you whisper under your breath, still in disbelief of what you allowed to happen, “so… can you reach the pedals?”

“I can.”

“And you see the whole back window in this mirror, right?” you ask, pointing to the rearview mirror, watching as Donghyuck nods.

“Positive.”

“Great. So… start the engine now, I guess?” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you see him nod and reach for the keys, turning them. The car instantly comes alive right in front of him all while Hyuck seems absolutely clueless, looking at you with big, adorable eyes, and you take it as your cue to instruct him on his next moves.

“Now press the clutch– the far left pedal– and move the gear stick into the first gear,” you say, watching as the boy slowly does as you say, reaching for the device and moving it to the desired place. “Good. Now, keep pressing the clutch and slowly start pressing the accelerator– the far right pedal– while also slowly letting go of the clutch until you get to the point where the car starts moving on itself. That’s when you don’t let go of the clutch, but keep it at that same exact spot, and put a bit more acceleration until the wheels spin like, once or twice. Only then can you keep your leg off the clutch.”

“You’re kinda hot when you tell me what to do,” Hyuck mumbles, but the flirting doesn’t quite come through when his face is focused at the road and his composure seems shaken, too stressed out to actually mean the words coming out of his mouth.

“Shut up and do what I said,” you snarl, seeing as the man nods and tries moving with the car. It takes him some time, but it seems that he is a natural– the car moves without the engine dying, and suddenly, you find yourself cheering him on. “Good! Good! You’re moving!”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Don’t panic!”

“I’m not panicking!” Hyuck hums, nodding to himself as he turns the wheel and makes a circle around the parking lot, grinning to himself with confidence. The car moves painfully slowly, and you, despite your best interest, find yourself enjoying the view– although you should probably be more worried about your own safety than you currently are. That's when you decide to challenge the male further.

“Okay, then we can shift into the second gear, it’s gonna go a little smoother,” you muse, seeing as the male nods.

His eyes stay focused on the road, though, so you take it as your cue to instruct him again. “Press on the clutch then, and move the gear stick straight down.”

“Mhm,” he hums, and presses on the clutch, but the struggle comes next as his hand flies all over the car, not quite used to the placement of the gear stick yet. Stressed, eyes glued to the road in front of him to not run into any possible obstacles in your way, he refuses to look away for even a second, and the whole sight makes your heart race in anxious agony as you reach for his hand and grip it, guiding him towards the stick and placing his palm on top of the device.

Your hold on his hand doesn’t loosen up as you guide his movements further and do it for him, just to make sure the stick really gets to its designated place and doesn't get stuck in neutral, which would make the engine die with the next press of the accelerator. His skin is soft under your touch, just like you imagined it to be, and you find yourself growing hotter the more your skin is in contact with his, the touch so innocent yet still sending you to overdrive.

“Now let go of the clutch,” you order, eyes glued to the side of Donghyuck’s head as he nods, listening to everything you say. The car now goes more smoothly and you watch him take another lap around the parking lot before you realize your hand is still gripping his on the gear stick, the information making you jump slightly in your place, clearing your throat in the awkward, tense atmosphere you managed to create for yourself.

“Okay,” you announce, “the trial is over, it’s time to press the brake– the middle pedal, if you haven't figured that out so far– and get out of my place,” you say, hoping the tone of your voice sounds as light as usual.

The car comes to a strong halt, since Hyuck doesn’t really know how fast the brakes react yet, and if you weren’t buckled in, it’s certain that you’d go flying in your seat and smash your head against the dashboard. Breathing out when the car stills, you finally feel yourself relax, having been alert this whole time, as you squeeze Donghyuck’s hand for the last time, amidst selfishly, before you let go of it and turn towards the door, opening it and thanking the chilly air of the night for slapping you to your face. You really needed that wake up call.

Do you really need to drive a fucking manual?

hyuck – can you drive me to yangyangs at 8

Staring at the text message on your phone, sighing to yourself at the weird discomfort in your stomach when it appears and registers in your brain, the sound catches attention of your roommate Aeri currently getting ready on the floor of your room, pressed almost uncomfortably close to the mirror. She should really wear the glasses she was prescribed.

“Donghyuck again?” she asks, staring at you through the mirror, a mischievous grin sitting on her face as she asks the crucial question.

“How’d you know?” you roll your eyes in irony, walking over to your closet and picking out your tonight’s outfit.

“Well,” she shrugs, “one, he’s like, the only person that ever texts you except for me, and two, you had that disgustingly doe eyed look on your face.”

“I so did not–”

“You so did,” she notes, putting another coat of mascara onto her long eyelashes.

“You know what? I regret telling you about this,” you mourn, scrambling for your things around your room and putting them into your bag, practically already ready to leave the apartment alongside your roommate slash best friend. When you came home last week after the McDonald’s run at 4 in the morning, you decided that sleep really wasn’t worth it anymore– as if you could fall asleep after the hotness in your whole body despite your window being wide open– and so you took a cold shower and decided to stay up in the living room, watching Netflix (more like having the show in the background as you tried hard to not have a mental breakdown at the newly found information about yourself). Aeri found you like that at 6 in the morning when she woke up to get a glass of water, and even though she was sleepy and groggy– which was probably why you decided to spill the beans so quickly– she interrogated you about the weird look on your face and it’s been a running joke between her and herself for the whole week.

“It’s really not my fault that you find our neighbor hot,” she notes, shrugging to herself.

“When did I say that? When did I say that!”

“Well, you said you came home all flushed and that you imagined making out with him when you dropped him off back home, so that’s basically the same thing.”

“I did not say I wanted to make out with him!” you defend yourself. You didn’t say it. You thought about it, that’s for sure, but your roommate really doesn’t have to know that. Unless she can read your thoughts, of course.

“Yeah, whatever. You and I both know it’s true.”

Sighing, deciding that you’re ending the conversation with your roommate as long as the topic is your annoying neighbor, you turn to your phone and finally reply to his text message.

you – can’t

He replies almost instantly, as if he was waiting at his phone for the last 15 minutes, and the predictableness of his message almost makes you chuckle.

hyuck – why

you – cuz im going you – and i wanna drink you – so i cant drive

hyuck – ok that changes things then hyuck – my original mission was to get you to go there with me but this has to do i suppose hyuck – see you there ;)

Yes, you admit that you reread the messages a little too many times for your own liking. Trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words, you swear your brain is running a thousand miles an hour, and realistically, this is the part where you reach for your girl best friend and ask her what exactly is happening in the chat with you and the guy you’re talking to, but after the endless teasing you’ve already heard from her side, you decide against it and just turn off your screen and put the phone into your bag with the rest of your necessities.

“If you mention something about this tonight in front of Donghyuck, I’m locking you out of the apartment.”

“Ay ay, captain!”

The journey to Liu Yangyang’s house isn’t long. He’s the only one that still lives with his parents, but you can’t really blame him– the house is huge, and they are hardly ever home, because they are always on business trips in Taiwan. Half the time, it’s like the guy owns the place, and he also acts like it too, since half of the parties you’re invited to in a year are taking place at his house.

When you get there, it seems that everyone was already there– at least the usual group, you suppose. You don’t know who else is invited, but when you arrive to Yangyang’s basement– the part of the house where he usually hosts the more chill, laid-back parties, with low music in the background, laughter resonating through the place and alcohol being passed around between people drinking straight out of the bottles– your eyes instantly zero on Donghyuck, dressed in a light bomber jacket and skin tight jeans, you decide that burning your throat with alcohol is the best thing you can do instead of audibly moaning at the sight.

Taking one of the opened bottles of Bacardi off the little camping table situated near the corner of the big room, you take a swig, not really caring about the people who have drank out of it before you– because the pandemic has taught you nothing, it seems– when you finally walk over to the group and say your greetings. Deciding that avoiding the object of your desire for the whole evening is the best plan how to survive without doing something you’re going to regret, you engage in conversation with pretty much everyone else, completely unaware of the way your neighbors eyes are burning a hole through the side of your skull, kind of offended that you haven’t come up to him first, since as far as he’s concerned, out of all the people present in the room, you spend the most time with him in the first place (with the exception of Aeri, of course, but you two live together, so it doesn't really count). In his opinion, you didn’t need to be talking to Na Jaemin right now– you’re not even friends with the man.

But still– drinking beer out of a bottle Lee Jeno passes you somewhere in the middle of the night before he disappears with his best friend to dance with them under the cigarette haze (pretty embarrassingly, you may add) – the only thing resonating through your brain is that you got this, you’re not gonna give him a single glance, you’re not gonna think about how attractive he looks in all black.

You guess that everything about the way this evening has been going is the prime example of every single college kid’s usual Friday. Sitting in a basement of Liu Yangyang’s house, your vision cloudy with a bit of alcohol and also the sweet, piney smoke of the joint that’s been passed around the room only a few minutes prior, music lowly plays in the background, adding a relaxed, yet exciting and bubbling atmosphere to it all– it’s the epitome of the experience you imagine before you go to college when you’re 15 and gazing longingly outside of your window, wondering if life when you’re older will be better and more fun.

And while you don’t necessarily think life is better now– you do have a shitton of assignments to do and stress eating up your insides– you do think it’s kind of fun. Everything is more bearable when you have a group of friends by your side, and while you wouldn’t call every single person in this room right now your closest friend– a friend for life, even– you’d say everything is better than being stuck in your house on a Friday evening, mourning the break up of One Direction one more time as you watch This is us again with spoonfuls of ice cream shoveled into your mouth, figure cuddled up under the blanket with your roommate by your side.

The fun only lasts until a round of Truth or dare takes place, though. You must admit that it’s the fundamental part of the whole hang out, and yes, it’s the thing you always see in the movies. It adds a bit of spice to it all and it’s twice as fun to play when you’re a little intoxicated, but still– you’d like to think you’re too old for the game now, even though your friends believe otherwise and never fail to bring it up again.

This time, it’s Jaemin who brings it up. You shoot daggers to his skull, annoyed eyes and all, but you don’t think he notices as he continues to excitingly sway his arms in the air when he repeats the submission over and over again, finally heard by his roommate Jeno that’s just come back from the weird dancing session with his best friend that he’s very obviously pining over, and grins at his roommate in agreement, starting the game.

“Not again,” you whine audibly, because frankly, if you wanted to survive the evening with no embarrassment and no weird thoughts about one of the party guests, you don’t think a game of Truth or dare is your best move. Your disgust makes your own roommate– that’s suddenly glued to your side, too tipsy to even walk (you heard her exclaim that her legs are too heavy to be used)– giggle, already familiar with your thoughts on the game. And frankly, that makes you even more terrified– because when Aeri is drunk, she talks even more than she does when she’s sober, and well, there’s no promising that all of the information you’ve ever shared with her will stay truly confidential when she’s under the influence.

“Don’t start again,” she says, shaking her head, “you always say you hate it, but you always end up playing it anyway.”

She’s right. It’s not like anyone is pressuring you, but you kind of feel like the situation calls for you to join in– because what else are you supposed to do, watch them? There’s no fun in watching if you’re not involved, and you’d feel like an intruder if you just watched them do all sorts of dares while not being in on the game.

“Yeah, because you’d all whine if I didn’t,” you say instead, taking a sip of your drink, letting the bitter taste of beer slide down your throat as she rolls her eyes at you, nudging you in your side with her elbow.

“Just say you end up having fun,” she snickers, “nobody would think that’s weird, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you shush her and pet her hair, taking advantage of the fact that you’re very obviously less tipsy than her, as you turn to the middle of the circle and wait for the game to start.

Usually, a couple of rounds pass before your name is called. You enjoy the tension– it feels like you have time to prepare to do whatever task their hazed minds come up with or answer whatever question that’s been burning on their tongue, yet, it also feels like a buildup before the big thing– a strange sense of climax, if you will.

This time, it’s no different. A couple of minutes pass as you watch Yangyang lick the bottom of Jaemin’s foot– because Jeno always likes to come up with the nastiest, most worrying dares of them all– followed by the sight of Shotaro kissing the forehead of the most attractive guy in the circle (Renjun wasn’t happy with the wet peck left on his skin). The guys almost always pick a dare, and you think that’s an advantage, since before it’s your turn to finally participate in the game, they run out of ideas for dares that are possible to do in the weed-smelling basement of Liu Yangyang’s house and you can safely choose truth instead. It’s not like you’re not brave enough to choose dare– you did so many times before and never once backed away from the task, not even when you were dared to kiss the person on your right (that was the night you learned Kim Sunwoo wasn’t all that, because the drunken peck he pressed to your lips wasn’t all that appealing) – you just simply tried to pick the safest strategy for the game.

Another kissing dare could suggest that you kiss the person you find the most attractive in the room right now. Or they could ask you for a lap dance on one of the guys. The possibilities are endless, and even though choosing the truth isn’t that much safer, since their questions could vary all the way from ‘What’s the color of your underwear right now?’ to ‘What is your favorite sex position?’, you’re trying to comfort yourself with the fact that you could just lie. You know it’s kind of prohibited, and that it also defeats the whole purpose of the game, but still– you’re not planning on embarrassing yourself tonight, and you were always a pretty good liar when it came to words. Actions? Not that much.

Sinked deep in the stained light orange fabric of the sofa, eyes half-lidded, you await Jaemin’s question as you tell him you did indeed pick the truth. And you were right, there are no protests coming out of the boys’ mouths this time around, seemingly tired of coming up with original ideas for their dares.

“Come on, man, we don’t have the whole day,” Renjun nudges the boy into his ribs, annoyed with the lack of words from his friend.

“Actually, we do. I don’t see the issue-”

“Just ask something already!” Shotaro whines from his position on the floor, his back pressed against the side of the sofa.

“Fine,” the man straightens up in his position, as if struck by a newly found sense of clarity, the look on Na Jaemin’s face reeking of insanity, “I've got something.”

The room cautiously looks at the platinum-haired boy sitting on the floor, his back resting against an armchair in the corner of the room as he blinks a few times, seconds passing, yet there’s still nothing coming out of his mouth.

“Are you gonna say something, or will you continue to act all dramatic…?” Jeno snickers, making his roommate roll his eyes at the jab, finally breaking the silence.

You’d argue that he just forgot what he wanted to say– with how Jaemin gets when he’s drunk, it wouldn’t be half surprising– but it seems like his roommate knows him better than you do, because the man speaks up fast, and suddenly, you take back all your impatient thoughts that urged him to ask you something already, because the question takes you by surprise and leaves you in shock, staring wide eyed and speechless.

“If you had to have sex with anyone in this room, who would you choose?”

You no longer wish he took longer to ask you the question. No, you wish he would’ve sent it to you telepathically, so you could prepare your answer beforehand. You’d save yourself a lot of trouble– being met with the gaze of everyone, looking at you as they await your answer is truly not helping you with the difficult task of responding to the truth, when in reality, you don’t think you can manage to even say anything.

Because truthfully, if you were asked this question at any time prior to the weird situation you found yourself in with Donghyuck– who’s, just by the way, still present in the room, but more quiet that usual, which you shamefully notice and worry about on your insides, but don’t mention out loud– you’d think that you wouldn’t have sex with anyone in this room. It may be hard to believe– even though the men in this room aren’t the sexsymbols they often think they are– but that's the sheer reality.

But now? You feel like the truth is written all over your face, you feel like everyone can see right inside of your head and read the words straight out of your brain. It’s embarrassing. You feel ashamed.

Looking around the space, shiteating grins meeting all of their expressions, you shrug and finally get some words out, hoping they satisfy their needs for an answer.

“No one,” you say, praying you sound confident.

“Yeah, no-”

“Oh, come on-”

“That’s a lie-”

Multiple voices cut into your confession, all in disbelief. If this isn’t the proof of their impressively big egos, you don’t know what is. All of them now staring at you with furrowed eyebrows, not believing a single word that’s just came out of your mouth, you start to wonder about how to convince them that you are, indeed, telling the truth, even though you’re obviously aren’t, so you don’t have to take a shot of whatever liquid the host of the party has hidden in the closet of his basement as a punishment.

“I’m serious! I’ve never looked at any of you and thought, ‘yea, I’d let him get it’,” you shrug, taking a nervous sip of the beer in your hold again.

“Okay, but if you had to? Like, imagine someone is holding your mother captive and telling you they’re gonna kill her if you don’t have sex with anyone in this room. Who are you choosing?” Jeno squints at you, and you’re starting to believe that the man just wants you to pick him.

“I’d have sex with Aeri,” you muse, pointing a finger to her as she’s leeching to your right shoulder, snickering.

“That’s a cop out!”

“Look, man, I don’t find anyone here hot, okay?” you shake your head at the commotion, grinning to yourself to seem more believable. And with how they roll their eyes and sigh to themselves, you think it’s working. There’s a premature feeling of relief in your insides, thinking that you’ve done it, you haven’t exposed yourself, before you hear your roommate mumble from her slumber, making your heart drop deep down into your own fucking asshole.

“Not even Hyuck?”

Slowly spinning your head towards her, the tight smile on your face suggesting that you’re going to kill her in under approximately five seconds if she doesn’t take back what she said, you’re painfully aware of the fact that everyone’s staring at you now, grinning to themselves with a look that says they believe that Aeri knows something they don’t– she’s your best friend, after all– and you realize that you’re going to have a hard time getting out of this one.

You should’ve expected this the moment you saw her drink that much. Maybe you should’ve stayed home today. The information about Lee Donghyuck was still too fresh in her brain to not mention when she has some to drink– you understand, in a way. At least, you’re trying to understand.

“Fuck no,” you grunt out, furrowing your eyebrows in the best acting performance you’ve managed to put on since your theatre kid days. You don’t think you’re convincing anyone, though. You’re not even convinced.

“Was that my name I heard?”

And again, your heart drops at the familiar tone coming from the place straight opposite of you, the place that’s very obviously in your point of view, yet you’ve been successfully avoiding the whole evening to not seem as obvious to everyone that the very man has been occupying your every thought for the last week or two. You realize this is the first time he’s spoken to you this evening, if you’re not counting the text messages you exchanged before you got here, and something about the fact makes you shiver.

Meeting his eyes, because it’s the natural thing to do when someone speaks to you, you mentally curse and feel your heartbeat quickening at the grin sitting on his face. Eyes roaming his body– all against your will– you notice the comfortable way he’s sitting on the armchair in front of you, legs parted wide and his thighs on full display, hair a little messy and eyes glossed over and blown out, since he smoked just a few minutes prior to the game, making you realize just how painfully he resembles someone who just had a long make-out session; the thought automatically leading you to think of the fact that you’d like to have a make-out session with him right now, and wow, his thighs do look inviting to sit down on.

“You wish,” you spit instead, still wanting to save the situation. Averting your gaze from him to keep yourself sane, you choose to focus on the floor instead, heat rising to the tips of your ears.

“I mean, it seems more like you do,” he grins, the whole group snickering at the sudden quarrel in between the two of you. Your conversation suddenly reminds you of the ones you had with him before the two of you started properly talking, and something about the confident smirk on his face makes you remember just how annoying you’ve always found him whenever you encountered him at this very place. You’re back to square one for a minute, with your defensive remarks, similar to the way you used to quarrel with him before, and the familiarity engulfs you like a warm blanket.

“Your confidence amuses me,” you bite back, choosing to look at him as you say it to add more impact to your words; your decision seems to only worsen the things for you, though. The conversation admittedly sounds a little too much like flirting, and the way you notice him clutching the can of beer in his hand only makes you more flushed under his gaze.

“You don’t seem amused.”

“That’s because the idea of having sex with you makes me want to leave this room,” you grunt, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“I’ll take you home if you’d like,” he winks at you. Alarm sound goes off in your mind, your hands clammy as you run them through your hair, and suddenly, you’re on fight or flight. And if you can’t escape the situation, you decide to choose the latter– throwing him the most jabbing remark you can think of at this moment, fighting to keep your dignity.

“On a bike, or something?” you snicker. “As if I’d let a guy without a licence fuck me. You know that’s below my standards, Hyuck.”

An amused gasp is heard in the room when this remark leaves your mouth. The main source of the noise is Liu Yangyang, the host himself, since he likes to laugh at times when it’s the least socially acceptable.

Now, you know that there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the amount of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in League of Legends, and lastly, their cars. And while Lee Donghyuck is known to be quite the player when it comes to the first thing in the list of social ranking between guys (or at least you’ve heard so from the girls in the locker room in the past years. Not like you were listening to their conversations whenever his name was mentioned… you just have very good hearing) and he was known to be the one that carries the team whenever any game on Yangyang’s PS5 is played in the dimly-lit basement on nights much like this one, there was something always setting him back in the neat ranking, and that something was the state of his car.

Why? You guessed it– he doesn’t have a car. Or a licence.

To be quite frank, by the expression on Donghyuck’s face– all wide eyes and mouth agape in shock– you hit him right when it hurts, the grin falling off his face when he takes a sip of the beer in his hand, seemingly to chase down the taste of being put in his place and to have something to do to not seem as awkward and embarrassed as he must be feeling right now.

You feel victorious, in a way– you managed to mask your very obvious sexual frustration caused by the man, while also managing to rile him up with your comment, which is definitely a first in your dynamic– adrenaline rushing through your blood as you look at him with expecting eyes, awaiting his response. The rest of the crowd laughs at your remark, only fueling the joy you feel when he suddenly averts his gaze from you, licking his lips for only a millisecond (yet it doesn’t get unnoticed by your eyes) before he snickers again, shrugging.

“Okay then,” he grunts, pressing the tip of his tongue to the inside of his cheek in annoyance, “you won.”

You know what? Once he admits to it, the feeling of victory quickly fades. Watching his frustrated face, eyebrows furrowed as he looks everywhere but at your face, suddenly, you choose to drown yourself in the rest of the beer in your bottle, relieved when you notice the game progressing without you.

You won, he says, but you don't feel like you did. Quite the opposite, actually. You feel a tad bit defeated.

You managed to lie to the crowd, but the very obvious pit in your stomach reminds you that you can’t lie to yourself– and now, bear with me as I say something cheesy, yet true– because even though Lee Donghyuck can’t drive, he’s still very successful at driving you crazy.

You feel like the universe is punishing you for every little, smallest thing you’ve ever done wrong in your life. You feel like whatever force is there that’s making this world go around, absolutely, completely, wholeheartedly hates, despises you, and won’t have mercy on you as you’re left dealing with the text message shining on your phone screen four days after the party, at 8 in the evening.

hyuck – drive me to a date hyuck – please ig

Sighing, one, two, three times, you chew on the bottom of your lip as your eyes scan over the messages, and something about the very few words makes your stomach turn and twist in an emotion you’d describe as a weird mix of disgust and shock as you mentally try to come up with a reply. And it’s hard.

It’s difficult, because you hate it, you hate it, you hate it– the way Lee Donghyuck just managed to score himself a date only four days after your ever so growing sexual frustration has started to see the light of the day, you hate the way he’s asking you to drive him there– as if to show you that he still has it, that you’re wrong, and that even though he has no car and no license to boost in front of other girls, they still want him and you’re about to witness it as you drive him there.

And you hate it so much you start to think you’re going to chew on your own fist and throw a rock through your own window, but you strive hard not to show it. And is there a better way to seem unaffected in this situation than to comply with him? If you weren’t so jealous about the whole thing, you’d surely just make fun of him and do it, no questions asked– a friendly favor, or something. And so you do it. Like it’s nothing.

you – ok text me when you’re ready

After a few minutes, you end up sitting in your car, hands on the wheel ready to turn (and run into the nearest car out of pure rage, possibly), waiting for Lee Donghyuck to appear on the passenger’s seat, all dolled up and dumped in cologne, presumably– and that’s exactly what happens when the door swings open and your nose is filled with his usual smell but somehow amplified, and you catch a glimpse of his leather jacket and the shirt tucked into his black jeans. You don’t outright look at him– because you’re still trying really hard not to show all of your inner thoughts on your face– and so you only turn on the engine and hum at him, already making your way out of the parking lot.

“Where are you going, then?” you ask, tone of voice completely unbothered and not too stingy or tight. “And I’m just dropping you off this time, right? Because I won’t sit there and watch you have a date and wait to drop both of you back,” you say, playing with the car radio and trying to find a station that would both satisfy your need to tune out your thoughts with a good song and the need to do something with your fingers to seem occupied.

“Of course not,” he snickers, “wouldn’t do that to poor you. And just go the way I tell you. Now turn left at the end of the street.”

Sighing to yourself at his orders, you do your best at driving your neighbor to his date while trying to ignore just how ridiculous this whole situation is. You should’ve said no back when he first asked you to be his personal driver for the semester– failing Film theory class doesn’t seem like such a bad thing in your eyes now, when you look at the situation in retrospect.

“Can’t believe you have to be dropped off at your own date and you still pull bitches,” you shake your head in disbelief, hoping, praying you seem annoyed because of your duties and not because you’d much rather have him staying in so you could catch a glimpse of him in his window, crouched down in the blue light of his room (yes, he has neon lights in his room. Yes, you teased him about it countless of times before) as he plays League of Legends or stays up on a discord call with his friends, playing Minecraft.

“See? You’re missing out,” he chuckles, shrugging to himself.

“As if I’d ever go on a date with you,” you huff, moving to turn the volume of the radio higher so you don’t have to make small talk with him anymore, agitated, yet completely ignoring the fact that it was you who brought it up in the first place.

Hyuck moves his slender fingers along the knob of the radio and tunes the volume back down, and you’re eager to repeat your previous steps just to anger him and also so you don’t have to listen to his sneaky, egoistical remarks for any longer, when you hear him tell you the next directions and you realize that you still indeed need to hear Donghyuck’s voice, or else you’re not gonna be able to drop him off at his destination and drive away as fast as humanly possible.

The terrain around you starts to look more stranded. There are more trees than buildings in your sight, lampposts decreasing in amount as you drive further away from the city center, and only when you pass the sign that tells you that you just left the town you speak up again, now truly concerned.

“Where the fuck are you taking your date, man? To the middle of the woods?” you huff. “Is she meeting you there?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs, shaking his head at your furrowed brows. Something about his casual composure makes your nerves tick off and goosebumps appear all over your body, as if you were sensing danger, when you sigh out heavily in frustration and turn to look at him for only a split second, eyes meeting with his.

“Or are you making me drive to another fucking state, you fucker? I don’t have that much gas right now, you dumb ass–”

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” he rolls his eyes at you, pointing somewhere into the distance again. “Just turn right there and drive up the hill.”

“Up the fucking hill?” you repeat, concerned.

“I told you to not worry about it,” Hyuck hums, settling deeper into the car seat, letting you battle your own thoughts as you follow his orders and drive up the hill for him, praying no deer decides to jump onto the road and total your car right now.

“I worry about the girl that agreed to go on a date with you, Donghyuck,” you mutter, “I’ll tell you that, she clearly doesn’t have everything alright in the brain, because this is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he swats your worries away with a swing of his arm, pointing towards a place that extends out of the main road– if you can even call it that, since no cars are passing through the hill ever, much more in these hours of the day– and tells you that you can park the car there.

And you do as you’re told, despite your never-ending complaining– that’s the dynamic you have with Lee Donghyuck, it seems.

Stopping the car out of the main road, your car shielded from one side by a row of trees, you step on the break and look at the man to your right in question, the engine still running. “Is this it? Is this the place?”

“Yeah,” he nods, a grin slowly starting to play with his features. Something isn’t right– you feel it in your bones and see it in his eyes, but you can’t quite put your finger on it, still utterly confused and in the dark about everything. “Come on, get out of the car.”

He wastes no time in unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of the vehicle, his figure circling the car as he leans on the hood, turned away from you and seemingly waiting for you to follow his actions. Confused, figuring that you can’t do much more about the situation right now– where the fuck is his date? Why are we on the top of a hill? Will his date show up? – all swimming around your brain, you hop out and find his warm being, standing one step ahead of him and staring at him with stern, frustrated eyes.

“Look, isn’t it pretty?” he asks, pointing somewhere behind you. It takes everything in you to turn and gaze at the sight in front of you, your heart still weak and angrily beating against your ribcage, but you do as you’re ordered, eyes bearing into the view.

The whole town is stretching out right below you. Now that you’ve turned the engine off and your headlights have gone out, you see the lights even better, shielded by a blanket of stars glimmering above the horizon, and you can’t help but gasp out in the beauty of it all. This place makes you want to take a picture, so you can remember how you felt while standing here and admiring the city forever– so you can remember how you felt while standing next to Donghyuck, heart foolishly drumming against your ribcage– and you suddenly realize just how badly you despise the fact that he showed this to you just to send you off while he waits for his date, as if to show you everything you could have if you went out with him, even though the question was never even on the table in the first place.

Clearing your throat, you turn to him, eyes glazing his side profile. “Where’s your date? Is she turning up? I don’t think it’s safe to make her–”

“My date’s already here,” he hums, nodding to himself.

This does nothing to clear out the fog of confusion from in front of your eyes. “Huh? Where?”

“Here,” he repeats. The word has you wearily looking around yourself, furrowed brows and all– and that only makes the man chuckle at your antics, low voice cutting out of his throat making its way straight to the bottom of your stomach. “There’s no one else here. Just us. And no one else is coming, so will you chill out and enjoy our date, finally?” he asks, locking his gaze with you in a lazy, yet attractive manner that has your hands shaking and your brain instantly panicking.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you process his words for a few seconds, doing mental acrobatics and racking your brain in thought. Nothing helps. “Our date?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, no,” you giggle out in awkwardness, feeling unarmed and like somebody’s just dunk a bucket of hot water over you. Shaking your head, you try hard to mask the way you’re feeling on the inside right now, because what are you even feeling right now? As you do some unreadable gestures with your arms as a way of declining and canceling everything that’s happening right now. “Us? A date? Yeah, not happening–”

You mumble out, ready to escape the situation as fastly and as efficiently as you can while you try to make your way back inside of the car, not really thinking of the journey home you’re about to have to make with him on the passenger’s seat, when a hand grips your wrist, making you stop in your tracks. You take a few steps away from him nonetheless, and the man soon follows you before your body is swiftly turned against your car, the small of your back coming in contact with the driver’s door. Your breathing is quick when the man hovers above you, and you don’t feel danger– you just feel a bit panicked at the way tonight’s playing out. A date? You wouldn’t have thought of this in your most insane dreams.

“Why are you trying to run away?” he asks, his hand still holding your wrist, his fingers firm, yet gentle on your skin.

“Because– um– because-” you stutter, eyes instantly meeting his– regret pooling in the bottom of your stomach when you realize the proximity of his gaze, something tense bundling up in your insides, “this is ridiculous, Donghyuck, you can’t just–”

“I can’t just?” he tempts you, eyebrows rising to make you continue.

“You can’t just lure me into a date with you, that’s not how this works–”

“Would you go if I asked, then?”

“No, of course not!” you shake your head at him, tone of voice a few octaves higher than usual. Your eyes scan over your companion, his face reflecting the moonlight, and you find yourself counting the moles on his cheeks and noticing his sped-up breathing, automatically matching it despite not realizing it yourself.

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a driving license, or because you’re just scared to admit that you’re attracted to me?” he challenges you, quirking up his brows at you in tension.

Something about it makes you lose all the air in your lungs. He’s so close now you swear the scent of his cologne has made you drugged up, since you can’t seem to take your eyes off his lips for the next few seconds, completely in trance and electrified, and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess, too lost in everything that is him to come up with something coherent. “That’s- that’s just not-”

He laughs at you, he snickers, as those words escape your mouth, not even a full sentence. You bet it’s enough of a confirmation for him that you’ve officially lost all control– you can’t seem to get out a teasing remark like you usually can, no smart words calculated and thrown his way to scatter down his ego, and you think he realizes that he won. You’re defenseless, you’re weak, and you really want to make out with him right now.

Which he might have sensed out of the way you’ve been yearningly staring at his lips the whole exchange. Still, he mumbles out a small “Stop me now if you don’t want this,” just to be completely sure.

And you don’t. You don't stop him when he leans in and captures your lips with his. You’d be a fool to.

His lips crash against yours with a fever-like pace, the tension that’s been building up between the two of you making itself known in the hurried motions of your lips. His kiss is deep, hands cradling your cheeks as he angles you to lock your lips with his better, not a hint of shyness or hesitance in his motions. Your fingers shakily grasp at the front of his shirt, trying to steady yourself when each motion of his mouth against yours leaves your knees weaker and weaker, your body pressed harder against the car door.

He tastes of mint, making you suspect he planned this and chewed on a gum before meeting you, and when his teeth gently pulls at your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you, his tongue is left exploring the inside of your mouth, making you grow hotter and hotter under his ministrations. Your hands occupy themselves as they finally let go off his shirt and sneak around his small waist, pulling him closer, and you swear that you’ve never experienced a kiss that would leave you so eager for more before, a kiss that would leave you so weak and open for anything that’s about to happen– as if you were already naked and bare, a puddle in his palms.

You’re soon left out of breath, gasping for air when he pulls away from you, and his kisses turn into pecks left on your lips, open mouthed kisses slowly trailing to the corner of your mouth and down your jaw, lips hungrily attaching to your neck, his nose glazing the soft skin as if to smell your scent and ingrave it into his memory. Something inside of you unties and makes you lose all of your control, finally falling fully into the sensation of the novelty of making out with Lee Donghyuck against your car, and you find your hands tying themselves into his hair, tugging at the roots when he finds the soft spot on the crevice of your shoulder that makes you squirm, and you suddenly know what all the girls in the locker rooms were talking about. Each action of his has you gasping for air, eyes pressing shut in the blissfulness of it all– the bites he leaves on your neck, smoothing them down with kitten licks each time surely leaving bruises, making your insides light up with the acts of possession.

“Hyuck–” you gasp, his mouth sucking into another spot on your neck, your head instantly moving away from his way to give him more space to work his magic.

“Hm?” he hums, a satisfied sound cutting out of his throat as his actions get more slow, more lazy, but still just as electrifying. You don’t really know what you wanted to say– perhaps you had no point of calling his name just to say it, and the hazy look in your face is enough of a proof to him when he unattaches himself off your neck and locks his eyes with you, a grin settling onto his face. “Feels good?”

Nodding eagerly, almost a bit fast and a bit too soon to your own liking (but you’ll worry about that later), you watch him lean towards you again, lips locking with yours in need. Your fingers trail up and down his clothed back, his fingers mirroring the same, but up your loose shirt (which reminds you that you didn’t even dress prettily for the occasion– since you didn’t know this was your date you're attending), cold hands against your heated skin. Shivering from the fresh breeze of the night, you feel him grin against your lips before detaching himself from them to speak against your mouth. “Let’s move this somewhere warmer,” he murmurs before he tugs you away from the car and opens up the back door, pushing you inside.

Swiftly getting inside and closing the door behind himself, Donghyuck appears hovering above you, caging you against the uncomfortable seat. Still, you don’t have time to feel any sense of discomfort as his fingers move your hair from the way and his lips are back on yours again, leaving you no time to think of the implications of the whole situation.

“See? Isn’t this much better than arguing with each other all the time?” Hyuck snickers again in a moment of weakness when he pulls back from your face to admire your swollen lips, and the teasing has you pushing him towards the seats, a dissatisfied look on your face.

“Shut up,” you whisper almost hurriedly, climbing onto his lap (not before you admire his sprawled-up legs and the sight of his thighs, though).

“Make me,” he challenges.

“Gladly,” you nod, attaching yourself to his plump lips again, since you can’t seem to get enough of the sensation of them against your weak self, every sweep of his tongue with yours making you feel more heated and impatient as you move against him in his lap, the motion earning you a dissatisfied grunt sent against your mouth as his palms grip your hips with unsaid urgency.

“Don’t start something you wouldn’t want to finish,” he breathes out.

Nodding, you hum. “Who said anything about stopping?” you muse out, grinding against him harder.

You’ll worry about the consequences later.

“Why am I the only one in the shot?” you squint your eyes at the male, watching him as he points his camera to you and tells you to smile and act natural. Donghyuck has on his varsity jacket and his hair is sitting messy, a bit curled on the top of his head, his legs are covered with loose gray sweatpants instead of his usual black jeans– he looks casual, and yet, he looks amazing, you foolishly think as you sigh to yourself and walk across the field, much like the male mentioned a few weeks ago when the two of you ate fried chicken with his free coupons, trying to capture the energy of what youth feels like to you.

“Because you are the main star, honey,” he grins at you, the nickname making you trip over a little on your own feet, before you turn back to him and send him a glare.

“I told you not to call me that,” you mutter, but feel the heat from your stomach slowly rising to the tips of your ears and the tops of your cheeks, your composure slowly crumbling under his gaze. Not only are you watched by his deep brown orbs, there’s also a camera pointed at you now, and if he doesn’t stop with the weird flirting he has going on– especially after what happened between the two of you last week– you don’t know how you’re supposed to contain yourself and act so you don’t look like an utter fool in front of everyone, when the clips will be played in class next week.

“Besides, the project is due next week and this is all we’re doing? Are you sure we’re going to be able to pull this off?” you ask, wary of his confidence. You’re not really sure if Donghyuck knows what he’s doing with this assignment. Why did you even trust him with it in the first place?

“I told you to leave it to me,” he says, “now be a good girl and run down the field, maybe twirl a little like a ballerina, I dunno… Hum a little tune to yourself, do anything remotely interesting and youthful, okay?” he instructs you, and you comply, ignoring the fact that he told you to be a good girl, because after what the two of you did last week, you’re not able to register those two words in a way that would not be mildly sexual in your brain.

You two haven’t spoken about the fact that you hooked up in the backseat of your car after your weird date last week. Truth be told, you two haven’t spoken about anything since it happened, because you felt too awkward and hesitant to bring any conversation topic up. The first time you two spoke was when Donghyuck texted you yesterday about the project, and you told yourself that you simply can't ignore him when it comes to these things, and so you agreed to meet up with him, hoping he won't bring up the events of last week. You were scared. What were you scared of, exactly? You have no idea.

Something in you was almost a bit shameful to admit to yourself that you managed to fall for Lee Donghyuck this quickly. Something in you was a bit embarrassed at the fact that you let yourself be so intimate and so close with the male, and although you don’t regret it, you don’t think you want to talk about it with him (or anyone, for that matter) just yet. Or ever, actually.

And although you could be rational and tell yourself that surely, Donghyuck wanted you in just the same way you wanted him, and there was nothing embarrassing about it, you didn’t feel comfortable with talking about the act with him, because deep down, you know it wasn’t just about the sex for you and you were afraid that it was for him, and you’d rather stay in the blissful unknowingness than to know he only wanted to have sex with you and not try to go somewhere further with your relationship. Did this inner monologue reek of disgusting insecurity?

Yes. Yes, it did. But somehow, you’re not able to do anything about it.

And so you run down the field like Donghyuck told you to, and you twirl and twist and shout and dance around, trying your hardest to act silly and youthful and exactly like he would like you to, because you’d hate to be unnatural around him, and you pray it’s enough for both the project and him included. Turning back to gaze at him from the distance, you notice that he’s not even recording anymore, only watching you with a lazy grin on his face, eyes glimmering under the direct sunlight, and you wonder how you haven’t realized just how beautiful he is when he’s simply just existing all those months ago, and how foolish you feel with the thought and both without it now. Walking up to him, you muse.

“Are we done here?”

“I think we got all the shots we need,” he hums, nodding to your question. There is something reassuring in his smile, and if you were confident enough to grasp at the straws, you would try to talk to him about the events of last week. You lack in many ways, though, and you were never so self-assured as you try to portray yourself to be, and so you don’t.

“Let’s go, then,” you say, shuddering from the cold November wind as you walk away from the man, expecting him to follow you. You drove here, since the place is a few miles away from the city, and the fact that this marks the end of your project didn’t really make you as relieved and happy as you thought you’d feel back when you agreed to be his driver for the semester.

A soft fabric envelopes your shoulders, his varsity jacket hugging you into warmth. You smell his cologne when you shyly push your limbs through the sleeves– a self-indulgent desire, too strong to be fought away– and when you look at him to thank him, he wears a soft look in his eyes that glazes you with such tenderness you feel like combusting from the inside with the strengths of your own emotions. Your heart beats fast in your chest when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you walk towards the car, and when a stronger wind hits your heated face, you think that maybe Donghyuck was right, after all.

You do think this perfectly captures what youth feels like.

“So we won’t talk about it?” he asks, and you turn away from him in fear of your emotions being clearly written on your face. He doesn’t have to name it– you know what he means.

“No,” you shake your head, determined, yet a little scared of his response, “not now.” Not yet, you think. You want to enjoy today a little longer.

“Why?” he asks.

Taking a shaky breath in, sensing that you won’t get to avoid the confrontation like you wanted to, you shrug. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it yet,” you bitterly laugh, meeting his eyes with something close to fear in your eyes.

“Hear what?”

“That you… you didn’t really mean anything by it, y’know,” you mumble, “I mean, you probably just did it to stroke your ego, or something, after everything I said at the party, so… yeah, I just don’t know if I wanna hear it.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence after your explanation, and Donghyuck only stares you down with a blank expression. It's not often that you don’t get to clearly see and experience all his emotions flashing through his face, letting you know what he feels even before he gets to speak it out loud. Now is one of the situations, though, and it scares you– it makes you so deeply afraid you’d rather back away from this conversation– damn you for entertaining it in the first place, and so you pretend it never happened in the first place.

“You think I did it to stroke my ego?” he clarifies.

“I- I mean…” you stutter, shying away from his gaze.

“Okay, then,” he mumbles, jaw hardening, his eyes not meeting yours when he circles the car and gets to his designated place on the passenger's seat, “that’s fine, I guess. I’ll try to show you my intentions clearer next time.”

Sitting in class, head resting in your hands as you stare right in front of you, mentally counting down the seconds until the last class of the semester starts, you are only vaguely aware of the things happening around you. You register Aeri talking to you about the new episode of her favorite drama somewhere to your right and you are also aware of Haknyeon and Shotaro sitting in the row in front of you, laughing loudly to themselves about the way their weekend went– yours went terribly, just for everyone’s information, since you decided to drown your feelings in alcohol alone in your apartment, having to be led to bed by your roommate after she got home in the middle of the night from one of her dates with Eric. You don’t really realize it when the class starts, because the monotone voice of your professor doesn’t do much to wake you up, but you are painfully aware of Lee Donghyuck’s body slumping next to yours into one of the only vacant chairs approximately 10 minutes after the class starts, out of breath and slouched over.

Aware of his presence, yet still acting like a scared deer around him, you don’t make any effort into turning to him and greeting him upon his arrival. Still, you sense the smell of his cologne filling your nostrils and making you just a bit more tired and sleepy, your eyes closing on themselves before you’re woken up by the sound of your name coming out of the professor’s mouth.

Scared you’re getting scolded for sleeping in class, you straighten your back and put on your best polite expression, but then you realize your name wasn’t called, just mentioned, and the name of none other than your neighbor was following, when the projector on the wall in front of you lights up and a file named Final projects is opened on the professor’s laptop, each .mp4 file named with a pair of surnames, and two clicks after, your final project is the first one of many presented in front of the whole class. You tried to tell Donghyuck that you could help with the final editing, but the male said he had a vision he needed to achieve, and for that, he wanted to be in charge of it alone, and frankly, out of fear of interacting with him more than was absolutely necessary, you left him to do his thing, resulting in this being your first time watching the final video as well.

There’s a few seconds of silence, a point of complete blankness as the clip starts, and a song played on an acoustic guitar starts playing when the word YOUTH, all capitalized, flashes at the screen.

A clip of you running down the field in your flowy dress starts the video, the camera zooming in on your figure when you twirl and skip around in the tall grass, and then you laugh over the background music, the sound making you gape in surprise. You didn’t know your laugh sounded like that, and with the hazy coloring of the clips and the solemn, youthful atmosphere Donghyuck managed to capture in the video, you find yourself thinking the sound was kind of beautiful.

Then the clip cuts into another one– and you widen your eyes at the sight, because Donghyuck told you he’s only going to include the clips from the field, and you believed him, well, because you never saw him record anything else– as the screen shows you a bunch of moments, all wordless, of you just going on with your life. The very next one is of you arriving to class late, a grumpy expression playing with your features. You didn’t notice Donghyuck filming back then, when he offered you a cup of coffee as you laid back on the desk, and a fit of giggles erupts around the class at your behavior. The next clip shows you laughing at Aeri’s shoulder in Yangyang’s basement– a couple of clips of that night following, capturing you playing beer pong with your other friends, or taking sips of your beer when you sat down on one of the folding chairs in the corner of the basement– each one showcasing you completely natural, unstaged, and raw. You had no idea anyone was watching you, yet alone taking clips of you. Did Donghyuck have his camera with him all those times? Or was he just taking those with his phone, since you never even noticed?

There’s a clip of you showing him the middle finger through the window when he called you late at night one day. Another one of you driving, and frankly, you don’t even know where you were going, but the sound of you giggling breaks through the speakers and you slouch deeper into your seat, shy at hearing the sound. The very next one is of you sipping at your boba through your straw, and that’s when you realize those were taken by his phone– at least some of them– because you attempt to hide from the lens by showing your palm against it. Another clip shows you digging through bags of McDonald’s take out in the driver’s seat of your car, another one lets you remember the time you went to get fried chicken with him, thinking he’s sending the video he took of you to tease his roommate with the free food he got with someone else back then, unaware that he wanted to use it for the project later.

There are a few clips that only last a second. You walking a few steps ahead of him– you think it was the time you two went to the mall, you angry with his antics. Another one of you picking out cans of soda from the rack in the convenience store. A clip of you driving, once again, but now the sky is starry and dark, and you remember the night too well, since it wasn’t that long ago. A clip of you glaring at your bangs in the rear view mirror, another one of you staring into your textbooks at the library.

There’s only one clip that shows Donghyuck as well. It’s one taken without you knowing, much like the previous ones, and how you missed the phone plopped up against the corner of your dashboard, you really don’t know, but the video shows you two in the McDonald’s parking lot, your hand touching his on the gear stick as you show him how to drive. Only then do you notice the flustered look on his face and the nervous laugh he gets out in the clip, the sound making your heart jump in your ribcage.

The last part of the video is of you walking a few steps ahead of him, his varsity jacket hugging you around your shoulders. It’s the latest clip of them all, and it makes you painfully shy to look at it. The video comes to finish with a few last strums of an acoustic guitar in the background, and you come back to your senses when you feel a hand squeeze your thigh under the table, the whole class erupting into claps. The video was beautiful, and you feel moved.

Although you should be more mad about the fact that Donghyuck took videos of you without you knowing, there is something incredibly moving about the fact that somebody was looking at you and felt the need to capture the moment before it went away. The clips were candid, real, raw, showcasing exactly how the memory went, how your laugh sounded, and how you looked through Donghyuck’s eyes. The video was exactly what it needed to be and more.

There’s something about the fact that all of the clips were of you that made you feel weak in your knees. If the video was what youth feels like, does this mean you were his youth?

If you felt beautiful in the video, loved the way your eyes crinkled in joy, liked the way your expressions morphed into the purest form of whatever emotion you felt at the moment, did that mean this was the way Donghyuck saw you with his eyes?

“See?” you hear him whisper into your ear, his hand still resting at the top of your leg. “I told you I had a vision. I did a good job, didn’t I?”

You chuckle, then offer him a nod. “I didn’t know you were recording all of those,” you whisper, ignoring the words coming out of your professor’s mouth– surely evaluating your work right now. You don’t really want to hear it, though– you’re sure you’ll pass. After seeing what your neighbor’s capable of, you have no doubts.

“I wanted it to feel authentic,” he peeps, “to the way I see you, I mean.”

“Is this what you meant when you said you’d prove your point later?” you wonder.

“I mean, the fact that I’ve always had the biggest crush on you was supposed to come across when I liked your objectively terrible haircut you got at the beginning of the term, but yes,” he admits, sheepishly smiling.

“Okay, uncalled for,” you shrug off his hand from your thigh, to which he giggles and captures your limb with his again, interlacing your fingers. He sways your hands back and forth, offering you a soft look that drives you slightly insane. After all of this, you’re really not sure what you were so afraid of.

“How does that roadtrip sound right now?”

“Still absolutely terrifying,” you note.

“Even if I pay for gas?” he laughs.

Squinting at him, admiring the boyish grin playing with his lips, you sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

890 notes · View notes

delulu-hours · 8 months

Text

My Scholar

Paring: Derek Morgan x Latina!reader

Summary: Derek's girl was his scholar. She was the perfect smart girl who always seemed to doubt her ability. So when she called, saying she had a possible theory to help with their case, he never once doubted her.

A/n: I hope you guys enjoy this little imagine. It takes place in season one episode 15.

"Morgan," Derek answered the ringing of his phone; his eyes didn't look away from the image of the dead woman on the screen staring back at him. He hadn't even looked to see who was calling him.

"Hey, cariño." The corner of his lips quirked upwards as he closed the laptop, getting the dead woman out of his mind. He glanced around and noticed the rest of his team was busy, so he got up and walked to get himself some coffee.

"Hey there, mama." Morgan could already picture the sweet smile that would pull at her lips and the slight rosy color that would adorn her cheeks. "Everything okay?"

"Peachy," The voice on the other end hummed. "I just missed you." He hummed, knowing that they hadn't been able to spend much time with each other. Working at the BAU, Morgan was always traveling and working cases, which involved being away for long periods. It also didn't help that his girlfriend was still finishing her schooling.

"How are classes going?" He watched as the mug slowly filled with the black coffee. A groan on the other end caused him to chuckle.

"I'm calling for that reason." He raised an eyebrow before taking the mug that was filled with coffee. "I know you're busy working on the Keystone killer, but I think there's something that I might be able to help you with." He could hear some flipping of papers and a few Spanish curse words.

"Y/n," Derek stopped what he was doing and shifted his phone back in his hands. "What are you talking about, beautiful?" He knew his girl was on her way to working for a Ph.D. in Criminology and Criminal Justice. A smart pretty woman he knew so he wasn't going to stop her.

"His MO has changed since he started up killing," He wasn't surprised that she was keeping up with the case of the Keystone Killer. "I know. Before you say anything, I got some more information from the police as I managed to get my professor to help get more updated information for my essay." He hummed to let her know he was listening as she continued. "Well, what if he changed his MO because he had to? The change came from the need to adapt."

"Hold up," Morgan stopped her from rambling. "You're onto something, Scholar. Just hold that pretty little thought of yours. The team might need to hear this."

"Wait, qué? (what)" She stumbled over her words. "No, Derek, you tell them. Besides, it's just a thought; I don't even know how accurate this thought is."

"You need to give yourself more credit than that," He lingered behind the door that played a barrier between his team and him. "You are a set of fresh eyes. Trust me when I say that your idea would make sense, but I need you to be the one to explain this." It was quiet, and he felt Hotch looking at him as he opened the door but didn't enter.

"Fine." He smirked as he walked in. All eyes were now on him.

"I think I got us something that would help." Derek moved the phone from his ear before placing the call on speaker. "Do your magic, beautiful." He sat in his seat as he placed the phone on the table. He ignored the confusion from everyone as his girl took a deep breath.

"Okay, uhm, where do I start?" The voice was soft, and the rest of the team looked confused. They half expected to hear Garcia's voice by Morgan's choice of words. They only knew one person he used those nicknames for. "This might seem un poco raro (a little weird), but I've been studying the case of the Keystone Killer, and with the recent evidence gathered, it's evident that the unsub had changed his MO. Before it was a rope, which gave him the pleasure to be involved and feel his power over his victims. It also explains why he strangled his victims. "

"Why?" Gideon spoke up, trying to find where this unknown person was trying to get at. "Why change his MO if he isn't getting anything out of it."

"That was exactly what I thought when he used the flex cuffs and suffocation. That also includes taking in why he had began to knock some of his recent victims out as well, which he hadn't done before." Some typing could be heard before a small ping took over Morgan's phone. "I asked myself why he knocked out the victims when he didn't have an issue over it before, and it made me realize that maybe he had no choice. Before, he could overpower his victims, but what if now he couldn't? I mean, he could've sustained some injury that left him weak or something. A stroke. Maybe even a heart disease."

"That would explain the sudden need to use the flex cuffs and why he began suffocating his victims." Reid nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Because he couldn't control her physically while she was awake." Ellie sounded impressed as they took in this new information.

"Exactamente! (exactly)" They heard a slight finger snap on the other end of the phone. Morgan couldn't help but shake his head as he took in his girl's excitement. "I mean, think about it; why else would he change what made him get off? The feeling of having the lives of his victims slowly leave their bodies as he strangled them. Seeing the fear in their eyes until they died and the power it gave him." If they could see the girl now, they would see the mess she was surrounded by. The papers on the bed, open books, and photos on the ground. She had been following this case since his latest victim, and it didn't help that she had written about the Keystone Killer in one of her previous assignments. "If he did sustain some sort of injury, there has to be some record of it in the hospital."

"So what are we talking about," Derek asked. "This must have happened after the middle of 1988 in Philadelphia."

"That's a lot of hospital records." Reid shook his head

"That is where I got stuck." She let out a small huff.

"Call our girl Friday." Gideon pointed at Derek, who gave him a short nod. Derek wasted no time picking up his phone and leaving the room. He took her off of speaker and placed the phone to his ear.

"You're a genius, baby." He placed a kiss on the phone, which earned him a laugh that he loved.

"I'm glad I could be of some help, cariño."

"I'll call you later when your theory leads us to the scumbag."

"Well, I hope you catch him and hurry back home. I miss my handsome man." He smiled as he heard the slight pout in her voice.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n messed with the sweater hem I was waiting for as she waited for Morgan. He texted her, saying he wanted her to meet with him later tonight at his job. She leaned on her car as she bit my lip, nervous to be here. "There she is." She perked up at his voice and turned around. A smile tugged at her lips as she rushed over to him, throwing herself onto him and pulling him into a hug. Wrapping her legs around his torso, she peppered him with kisses as he chuckled. A slight stumble backward, but he had a hand on her thigh, close to her ass.

"I missed you, mi amor. (my love)" She placed a kiss on his lips. A hum vibrated through her as he kissed her back. His touch was soft as he took her in. The way she felt in his arms.

"You don't say." He pulled back a bit and smirked at her. She saw the amusement dancing in those beautiful eyes as he placed his forehead on hers. She gave him a big smile as she closed her eyes, soaking in his touch and his body's warmth. She had missed him so much. Morgan couldn't say much himself as he, too, missed his girl. He missed her smile. The soft touches he enjoyed after the long days at the office. Or the way she bit her lip as she was focused on her schoolwork. "I missed you too, Angel."

"Ready to go?" She asked as she unwrapped her legs from him. As much as Morgan didn't want to let her go, he had called her for a reason.

"Actually, some people would like to meet you." He took her hand in his and pulled her with him.

"A mí? (me)" He smirked at the confused look on her face as she followed behind him.

"Yes, you." Since solving the case, his team had been bugging him about the unknown girl who helped with the case. She frowned a bit and looked at the building they were walking to. "Don't think too hard with the pretty head of yours." He nudged her with his shoulder, and she rolled her eyes at him. It was a mutual decision to keep their relationship private, so Morgan wasn't surprised that his team was confused and wanted to know who she was. He also had no intentions of hiding their relationship. They never asked him about it, and he never bothered to bring it up.

"Oh, tu mamá me llamó. (your mom called me)" She slightly swung their arms back and forth as they kept walking.

"My mom?" Dating a little over a year allowed Morgan to understand enough Spanish to connect the dots. Y/n speaks a lot when they're together; however, it is usually mixed with English.

"Yeah, She wanted to know if we were still going down Jamacia later this year. I told her we planned to go, but it wasn't certain yet."

"Was that it?" She nodded, and Derek hummed.

~~~~~~~~~

His team watched Morgan talk to the girl who stood close to him. Their hands interlaced as Derek's smile grew from whatever she said. "Derek is down bad." JJ looked amused as she took in this new side of her teammate.

"Did someone tell Garica?" Ellie asked softly as she glanced around, not finding the blonde anywhere. "I'm sure she'd love to meet the mystery woman." Reid shook his head before he could say anything. Morgan and the mystery women neared them.

"Guys, I would like to introduce you to my beautiful, sweet, intelligent girl, Y/n." The woman beside Morgan gave them a bashful smile as a slight blush dusted her cheeks, embarrassed by the compliment her boyfriend showered her with.

"It's nice to meet you." JJ was the first to hold his hand out to her. "Heard you were of great help with the case." Y/n took her hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Encantada, (nice to meet you)" She nodded at them as she took in the rest of Derek's team. She could tell who they all were just by how Morgan described them. "I didn't do much, but I was glad my theory helped JJ." JJ looked slightly surprised. She knew who she was. Y/n took in the man who sat on his chair; his was longer than the rest of the men in the team and tucked behind his ear. As expected, he wore a white button-up shirt with a black tie and a burgundy sweater vest. She knew right away that man was Spencer Reid.

"You mentioned that you had been working on the Keystone Killer case," Reid shifted in his seat. "Why is that?"

"It was for my class." She smiled at Reid. "I've written an essay about him before, so when he started killing again, I decided to follow along and use it for another assignment." She could tell that Reid was intrigued with what she was saying. "If you like Spencer, I can have Morgan give it to you when I finish it."

"Really?" He sat up straight in his seat. "I'd love to see what you have down. I read the small portion you sent Morgan and thought it was interesting."

"Claro que sí. (of course)" She nodded, delighted to share her work with him. She knew she would get along well if Reid were anything Derek described him as. Morgan watched, pleased to see his girl getting along with his team.

"Look at this," Derek threw an arm around her. "My nerd and pretty boy geeking out." A small groan left his lips as Y/n elbowed him in the stomach. His team was amused as she rolled her eyes at him, knowing she didn't even hit him that hard.

"Don't be jealous that they like me better than you, amor." She teased back at him. "Everyone loves me."

"Y/n?!" A cheer caused her to turn around as she took in the blonde-haired girl who rushed over to her.

"Pen!" She held her arms open as Penelope hugged her tightly. "It's good to see you again." She placed a friendly kiss on her cheeks as she smiled at her.

"Derek didn't mention you were stopping by!" She gushed as she shot a slight glare at Derek. Derek just chuckled as he knew how much Garcia adored his girl. He didn't blame her. Y/n was amazing. Truly.

"Well, Miss, Y/n," Hotch's voice had Y/n look over at him, a small smile on his lips as he nodded at her. "Good work with the case." He took his briefcase and looked at the rest of his team. "I'm going to head out for the night." They said their byes and watched him leave.

"It was a pleasure working with you briefly." Gideon gave her a slight nod as he followed Hotch, leaving for the day. The smile never left Y/n lips as she looked at Morgan, who gave her a wink.

"Told ya you did good." He gently rubbed her cheek. "My scholar."

#Derek morgan #derek #morgan #criminal minds derek #criminal minds derek morgan #criminal minds morgan #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan x reader

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kookslastbutton · 10 months

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. V

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,342

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jk has milk obsession, oc injured, both lonely :(, mommy issues, lots of family drama/in-laws, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, jk being good hubby to oc

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: I've heard the requests and I think it's time to fulfill them–how did they get together?! Yes, it's here and I'm excited to finally share! Also, yes this took up whole chapter so a tiny break from present-day stuff but we'll be back at it next chapter. 💞

<< ch. IV ༓ ch. Vl >> | series masterlist

Before marrying you, Jungkook had the same routine. He got up, showered, brushed his teeth, put work clothes on, grabbed breakfast, and ran out the door with twenty minutes to spare. Trying to find a parking spot at 7 a.m. at the university was no joke and he had to leave early or some college kid would take the last spot and not think twice.

His night routine was similar. Jungkook finished the day between 5 and 6 pm, slowly regretting he ever agreed to teach evening classes. He’d kick off his shoes, eat dinner, grade some of his student’s papers if needed, brush his teeth again, and went to bed.

It was a constant cycle and with no one around, not even a pet, Jungkook’s life was fairly quiet and systematic. Sometimes his buddies would come over on the weekend for a couple of hours and that surely rocked his world.

But that wouldn’t happen often during the school season due to his ridiculously packed teaching schedule. The most recent person he’d hang around during those months was Taehyung and if he wasn’t free, Jungkook would spend his time at the grocery store–stocking up on milk.

4 years ago

“That was two weeks ago man,” Jungkook says, pushing a cart with five-gallon jugs of milk to his car. He’s on the phone with Taehyung who's reminiscing about the grand opening of the new art exhibit and how “lovely” it was to meet you there.

Jungkook doesn’t need reminding though.

He clearly remembers seeing you there and Taehyung happily making a complete fool of him once he found out who you were. Thankfully you hadn’t seemed to mind too much since you and Taehyung soon moved on to discuss various art theories, masterpieces, and underrepresented artists.

“You didn't have to stay y'know.” If Jungkook didn't know any better he'd think Taehyung was salty. "You could've left at 8 pm like you planned. __ and I would have been fine."

Jungkook winces hearing the man's argument. He did think about going home at 8, but it unsettled him to leave you alone with Taehyung. His colleague was enjoying himself a little too much that night and there’s no telling what he’d do or say when he’s overly comfortable.

Jungkook had to stay until you left.

"Are you kidding me? Leaving you unsupervised would've been the worst idea after all your endless blubbering." Jungkook pops the trunk of his car, stuffing the jugs of milk inside. "God knows what you'd scar __ with."

On the other line, Taehyung smirks through the speaker. "No, that's not it......you weren't going to leave me alone with a woman, an attractive one at that."

Jungkook grabs the last jug of milk, slamming it on the floorboard. "Student, and stop talking about her like that. She's my stu—"

"Say student one more time and I'm going to take all your milk and give it to Yoongi hyung's cats."

"I swear to god, Taehyung, if you touch my milk I'm never going to another art museum or wine tasting with you again." Jungkook is very protective of his dairy products.

"That's okay. I don't need you when __ says she'll be happy to go with me sometime." Smug bastard, Jungkook thinks. There's no way you said that.

"That's bull Taehy—"

"Look she's in her masters and is literally eight years younger than you. It's not that serious so stop acting like she's fresh out of high school. Besides, you said it yourself, she's not a child."

Jungkook grunts, shoving the cart into the others. "She's a young lady who happens to be enrolled in the school. As faculty, we have no business thinking or talking about her outside those terms."

"For fucksake, Kook. You always make things so complicated!" Taehyung's baritone voice cracks through the speaker. "I'm just trying to get you to admit that you're into her some way or another. How many other students have I stayed to talk to and you couldn't give a—"

Just then a loud, high-pitch screech interrupts the call. Jungkook whips his head around immediately. He doesn't spot anything at first but a string of profanities remains audible in the distance.

"Jungkook, are you okay?"

"Yeah, but someones screaming and I can't tell where it's coming from." Jungkook walks around the grocery parking lot, eyes darting left and right. "Oh shit!"

There, near the bus stop, you lay on your side with your right leg stretched out and blood running from your temple. You try getting up but you fall right back down, cursing sharply.

"Taehyung I gotta go, it's __. I don't know what happened but she's laying by the bus stop and I think she needs help!" Jungkook shuts his phone and races to where you lay. He kneels next to you with sheer horror on his face. "__, what happened? What can I do?"

"Damn college boys, Dr. Jeon," you spit, dragging your leg up as far as you can. You reach for your bag which had flung about a foot away when you crashed. "So fucking eager to get off the bus and—oh damn that hurts like a bitch!"

"What hurts?" Jungkook lunges forward to catch your torso from slamming on the hard concrete. "Stay still okay? We need to get you to the hospital."

"I'm all set, but thanks. It'll likely heal in a day."

Jungkook shakes his head and wraps an arm under your back and legs. "Can you put your arms around my neck?"

"Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but I don't want to go to the hospital. Please."

You're serious. No trace of bluffing or even simply trying to act tough. You really don't want to go.

"You need to be checked by a doctor sweetheart," Jungkook insists. "Whatever happened has made it so you can't walk. C'mon, my car is nearby and I'll drive you over."

"No, wait!" He feels you push against his chest.

"__. I'm not leaving you without making sure you didn't break a bone or something. I don't want to make things worse but you don't look so hot right now. So please, let me take you." Jungkook lifts you up when you give a barely consenting yes.

"You sprained your ankle pretty bad hun." Dr. Kim Seokjin draws your attention to the X-ray scan. "Second degree." He points to the visual of your partially torn ligament. "There's going to be a lot of swelling so you're gonna need to stay off your foot for at least 4 weeks."

"Do I have to stay here?" is your first question.

"For the first couple of weeks, we strongly advise—yes." Dr. Kim moves on to the next X-ray scan. "You also cracked a rib which will also take about 4 weeks to heal, or more. Of course you're head has suffered a mild concussion as well but it's very mild thankfully." Dr. Kim catches sight of Jungkook next to you, staring at the scans. "You're wife's going to be okay," he says mid-diagnoses.

"We're not—" you start to say but Dr. Kim continues talking.

"Wife, girlfriend, lover, what have you. The point is, much of what we have here will recover with a month of rest, ice, and elevation." He takes a pen from his pocket and starts jotting down something on paper. "I recommend two weeks here for moderation purposes. If things look good, you finish the healing at home. Still, be careful though, no funny business."

The blank looks on both your faces tell Dr. Kim he wasn't clear enough. "Yah, my filters going to die with you two doe-eyed deer. No funny business means no sex!"

"Oh god!" You outburst, mortified by the thought. Jungkook whips his head to your slack-jawed expression. "Dr. Kim, it's not like that between us."

The older man suddenly zeros in on your professor, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's the matter son? Having trouble getting it up?"

Jungkook jolts in his seat, startled by the crass response. "I—no, what? There's nothing wrong with my—"

"We're not together!" You shout before Jungkook's sentence finishes. "We're friends." Saying that your professor brought you here sounded a little odd for some reason, especially when Dr. Kim was already convinced you two were a thing.

"Mhm sure, heard the same thing from my wife before we went off and eloped." Dr. Kim treads to the door. If he has a dime for how many times he's heard that "we're friends" bs he'd be...well, he's already rich so never mind. "Let's move on to something more productive now, like getting __ settled in a room. The sooner she starts the healing process, the sooner she can be good as new again."

"Thank you Dr. Kim," Jungkook says, slowly standing up to stroll you and your wheelchair out of the room. You didn't like it but the nurses insisted you be in one to keep pressure off your muscles.

"Yeah yeah." Dr. Kim waves him off. "Just remember what I said, no funny business. Especially here at the hospital. You don't know how many times I've heard the nurses catching their patients on top of one another at 2 am in the morning. That better not be you two, whoever you are to each other."

"Yes, doctor." You both reply, thankful of the fact that neither of you are in any position to be looking at each other.

"Is there any way I can be here for less than two weeks?" Jungkook watches as you plead with the nurse. It worries him that you're still anxious to avoid medical attention.

"I'm afraid not," the nurse says simply. "If you need anything, press the call button and I'll be in as soon as I can."

Once the nurse leaves, Jungkook pulls up a chair next to your bed. "Stupid question but how are you feeling?"

"I'm in an ankle brace, my rib burns, and my head is still dizzy. I'm trapped in the hospital for two weeks and all because a bunch of nineteen-year-old boys couldn't wait to hit up some frat party," you groan, not bearing in mind your tongue. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this Dr. Jeon."

"You didn't drag me into anything __. I'm glad I was there when this happened and I'm even more glad that you're here, getting help." Jungkook clears his throat before continuing. "Even if it isn't ideal for you."

You ignore the subtle pry for information. "Please, Dr. Jeon. You don't have to stay any longer. It's the weekend and I'm sure you have plans."

Jungkook gives a faint smile. "So, you're saying this is none of my business?"

"No, not—not at all. I mean if you want to stay then I guess you can but I don't want you to feel obligated or anything."

"I want to be here," Jungkook says simply. "But you know that's not what I meant. I'd like to know why it bothers you when anyone tries to help you...if I may."

"Just habit," you mumble quickly, averting eye-contact. It's not your professor's job to bear the weight of your problems.

Jungkook nods in reply, pretending you gave a satisfactory explanation. He wishes you'd tell him but if you didn't want to share more then that was your choice —he wasn't going to force you. "I understand." He grabs his phone from his pocket and rests his elbows on his knees. "Are you hungry?"

"Huh?" You look back at him, his question going right over your head.

"I asked if you're hungry. It's about dinner time so I can get you something if you want. I also have a bunch of milk in my trunk that needs to get to a fridge. But I can place the order now and pick it up in my way back here."

"Milk in your trunk?" Is the only words you repeat, dumbfounded. "Like chocolate milk or...?"

"Nah, Whole Milk." Jungkook grins at your scrunched up face. You try to hide it but not very well. "Don't look so disgusted. Milk is good for you."

"Yeah when you're ten years old."

"On the contrary!" You flinch when his voice rises, along with his eyebrows. "Milk has a lot of health benefits as adults. It has thirteen essential nutrients and helps maintain muscle and bone strength. I drink at least two full glasses a day, if not more."

"I'm sorry but that's nasty." You shudder at the thought of drinking milk in your twenties let alone your thirties. "You really enjoy it? The taste?"

"Yup, always have since a baby! Loved it so much that my mother-" You raise an eyebrow to which he abruptly switches topics. "Anyway, do you want me to pick you up something or no?"

You giggle, a little uncomfortable with whatever he was about to disclose to you.

"That's okay, no thanks."

"You sure? Otherwise I'm gonna be eating in front of you." Jungkook knows how this sounds — he's trying to force you to eat. But the truth is, he just doesn't want to eat by himself tonight. He also doesn't want to leave you alone this early, especially when you obviously detest being here, for whatever reason.

"I'm sure," you say. "But...if you want to come back you can. Not like I have anything to do anyway."

"Good then." Pleased, Jungkook opens up his phone contacts. "Give me you're number in case you change your mind while I'm out."

Over the next couple of weeks, Jungkook continues to stay by your side. He leaves to teach his classes of course and to go home late at night, but he stops by every day—hours at a time.

You keep insisting that he not come so much but he always makes the same excuses. "I just brought food" or "You're on my way home from the university". Sometimes he brings in class notes too.

Due to your current predicament, you're missing a lot of content so Jungkook thinks it best to go over key principles with you and takeaways from his lectures. He says it's his duty as a professor–never minding the fact that many of his other students are in a predicament of their own yet he’s not bothering to do jack for them.

"Look Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but you really don't have to. I'll be perfectly alright to catch myself up from the textbook and study guides. You don't have to keep stopping by." You try again but Jungkook keeps his wall just as strong as yours.

"I know I don't have to __. I know that I could leave right now, take all these lecture notes home with me, and not feel guilty about a thing. But I told you I was going to be here and I'm going to keep to that no matter how many times you urge me to leave. I also want you to call me Jungkook outside class but have you allowed for any of those to happen?" Jungkook tosses the folder of notes in his sachel, a loud thump following. "A simple thank you would suffice."

"I am grateful, I really am. But I never asked to be given so much of your time. I feel bad because maybe you're just one of those overly nice people who feel it's their duty to stick around or what not when someone's in trouble. I don't need to be pitied over! Also, you said I could keep calling you the usual, so Dr. Jeon it will remain!" Why you're raising your voice, you don't know but it's happening either way.

"Yeah I did," Jungkook quips, matching your tone. "But after the last, nearly two weeks I think we ought to be on a first-name basis! And I'm in no way pitying you okay? I'm here because I care dammit! I don't want you to be alone and I don't want you to be behind in getting your Masters. So I' try to be be here every day for at least fifteen minutes if not more!"

You don't fully process what he says so you reply to what you remember most. "Why? Why can't I call you Dr. Jeon? It's been that way from the start, twice every week. So why do I need to call you Jungkook all a sudden?!"

"Because it makes me feel younger, you insulted my milk after I first took you to the hospital, we've been eating dinner almost every night since your injury, you told me about your childhood cat named Mr. Muttonbottom, and you just called me by my first name so there are no take backs! Now, if you're done making a fit, do you want bibimbap or jajangmyeon for dinner tonight?!"

What the actual hell? You cease your arguing at once, hearing your professor, or excuse you, Jungkook, all fluffed up. Obviously, you're not the only one high-strung over being stuck in the same routine day in, day out.

"Jajangmyeon...please," you mutter.

"Thank fuck," he swears. Yeah that's new too.

"Sorry for getting mad earlier." You mumble the words as soon as Jungkook returns with the food. "It just feels odd that you've been here all the time...you're my professor."

Jungkook mauls over your choice of words, stiffening ever so slightly. "Well, I'd like to think we're sorta friends now but alright. Does this actually bother you __? I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, you know that." He places the bag of take-out on the small desk near your bed.

"No, it's doesn't bother me." you just don't know how to react or what to say besides a measly thank you. More so, you don't want to make someone feel responsible for you...you should take care of your own shit without bringing others with you. It's not the best mindset, you're aware, but its the one you have.

"Okay good because to be completely transparent, I'm sorta here for me too. I live my myself, eat by myself, talk to myself....I do most things alone so it's nice having someone else to be around." He's not sure where to set his eyes, so he looks downward, fumbling with the napkins in front of him. "I'm making this awkward, sorry."

Feeling the strange need to offer comfort, you stretch a hand over Jungkook's arm. "I get it. It's nice having someone around too."

You and Jungkook hold each other's gaze for a few seconds more, letting the brief silence do the rest of the talking. Maybe you've been looking at this a little too one-sided.

"How are you feeling today? Any better?" Jungkook cracks open the bowl of Jajangmyeon, handing it to you with a pair of chopsticks.

You take the steamy food and gesture to your ankle which has swollen down a good amount. "Still more healing to be done but it's better."

Jungkook hums in approval. "That's comforting to hear. Dr. Kim going to discharge you soon?"

"Yeah, I think so. A few more days and he said I should be able to rest up at home."

"Really?" He chews on his bottom lip. "Well great, uhm , do you have stuff going on when you get back?"

You think a moment, trying to recollect if you made plans with Na-Rae. "Maybe some but not much. I don't have a ton of people around me right now either...down here I mean."

"Well, do you wanna go out to dinner then?" Jungkook pops the question more causal than expected. It's almost like he planned this or at least has been thinking about it for a bit. "We've been eating together for a while now and I think it might be a nice celebratory thing."

"Are you asking me on a date...Jungkook?" Because it defiantly sounds like he is, as indirect as it may be.

His reply is barely audible but you hear it and for the first time, your professor sounds truly timid. "Uh, well...let's go with "hang out", like friends do."

A/N: so yeah, thats how they got together 👀😅 anyone surprised? Thinking about a drabble for thier first date now haha. Anyway, next chapter we get back to present day stuff where more drama goes down. Also, adding a chapter bc this flashback took the whole chapter lol. Lmk your thoughts 💞

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milquetoast27 · 2 months

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The Emotional Reticence of Holmes and Watson

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, two shy Victorian men, maneuver their vulnerable feelings of affection for one another in an expertly flawed and human manner crafted by Arthur Conan Doyle. First and foremost, I am examining their use of "my dear Watson" (91 times in the canon) and "my dear Holmes" (14 times).

The first time Holmes ever uses "my dear Watson" in the canon, it's actually in a rather sarcastic tone.

"What is your theory, then, as to those footmarks?" I asked, eagerly, when we had regained the lower room once more. "My dear Watson, try a little analysis yourself," said he, with a touch of impatience. "You know my methods. Apply them, and it will be instructive to compare results." (SIGN)

Note: for The Great Game, this absolutely isn't the first time Holmes has used this phrase, but from the narrative perspective, it is absolutely the first time Conan Doyle put this phrase to paper, which is more relevant to this examination.

Holmes uses this phrase with a touch of exasperation, which even in itself holds some love within it as he encourages his friend to utilise his own beloved methods. And even in this first instance, while Holmes's tone indicates some displeasure, the personal address ensures that it isn't a genuine blow. But the intimacy of "my dear" is quite daunting, isn't it? so Holmes utilises the veil of sarcasm to break the barrier, in the spirit of "look, I've said it now. Now I may go and say it as much as I want."

Oh, and he does. The frequency of 'my dear Watson' slowly builds through the canon and peaks through FINA, HOUN and EMPT. It isn't surprising, considering they hold some of the most critical points in their relationship.

• "My dear Watson, you were born to be a man of action." (HOUN) • "Not for the world, my dear Watson. I am perfectly satisfied with your company if you will tolerate mine." (HOUN) • "Then these are your instructions, and I beg, my dear Watson, that you will obey them to the letter." (FINA) • "My dear Watson, I owe you a thousand apologies. I had no idea that you would be so affected." (EMPT)

It is evident, that it is after this barrier is broken in SIGN, that Holmes feels comfortable to use this address in such a sincere manner. In fact, it is apparent that it is in particularly emotional circumstances that Holmes is more likely to call for Watson through any means at all.

So, how about Watson?

His use of "my dear Holmes" is almost exclusively out of shock or surprise whenever his 'Johnson' claims anything particularly outré. Again, while Watson is in disbelief, and most probably doubtful of Holmes's claims, the personal address softens this blow to say that no real harm is done between them.

• "My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much." (SCAN) • "My dear Holmes!" "Oh, yes, I did." (SPEC)

The first real instance of Watson using this phrase sincerely is in FINA.

"You are afraid of something?" I asked. "Well, I am." "Of what?" "Of air-guns." "My dear Holmes, what do you mean?"

Holmes is acting more than out of the ordinary to put Watson in some kind of concern and this question comes no doubt more from worry than simple surprise. He even asks again, "but what does it all mean?" which highlights his wish to be by Holmes's side, even in danger.

The first and only instance of a good-hearted affectionate address comes to Holmes in HOUN. However, interestingly, it is only through the written word, in Watson's letters to Holmes from Dartmoor.

• Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have not disappointed you as an agent. • Such are the adventures of last night, and you must acknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I have done you very well in the matter of a report.

Watson's method of breaking the barrier is to send it remotely through his pen, which is, after all, much less daunting than saying it directly. It is absolutely worth noting that Watson has also used this language when specifically wishing for praise - it shows us that he feels the closest to Holmes when he is able to follow his own methods.

Conan Doyle shows us the ways insecurities and pressures can collaborate with our most earnest and deepest affections. Holmes and Watson aren't perfect beings, but navigate through their web of reticence and inner desires to find an unspoken but profound dialogue between them.

#acd sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #acd canon #Sherlockian scholarship #fucking hell I love them so much I will die for them #I'm so normal about the ACD canon fr fr #personal essay

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jeonqkooks · 11 months

Note

jungkook #33 from the fluff list 💗 (even better if its like fboy badboy jungkook getting flustered and shy around oc hehe)

daft pretty boys | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

prompt: "i can't think around you."

rating: G

word count: 0.8k

genre/warnings: classmates to .. lovers?, college au, basketball captain!jk, he's neither a fuck boy nor a bad boy he's just a cute boy <3, fluff, swearing as per uzh, i plagiarized MYSELF bc the shit mentioned here was actually taken from my final paper for a film class two years ago lmaooooooo

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

If there's one thing that Jungkook absolutely despises, it's when people think jocks are dumb. It's a common misconception and it's downright hurtful sometimes; just because Jungkook is the basketball captain, doesn't mean that anybody has the right to assume he's got hay for brains.

However, if someone were to come up to him right now and say it to his face, he probably wouldn't disagree.

"So yeah, if they lose the memories of these relationships, I think they'd also be losing parts of themselves that make them whole, because an individual's identity is an accumulation of multiple smaller identities they have with every single intimate relationship that ultimately forms one collective identity, y'know?" you finish, and it's not until then that Jungkook comes back down to earth, realizing that he's just been staring at you this whole time. "Anyway, what do you think?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Same, uhm," Jungkook stammers. "I also thought about their collective relationsh- I mean, collective identity and multiple identities and-"

You purse your lips as you take in his whole demeanor, like a nervous child fumbling with his words. "Did you not watch the movie?"

He did watch the movie. In fact, Jungkook watched it three times over the weekend because that's how much he liked it. When he registered for this class - History of Popular Cinema - at the end of last semester, he was hoping that it'd be an easy elective so he could focus more on basketball and his core courses. And for the most part, this film class is easy. All he has to do is watch movies and hand in a few short essays every now and then. Piece of cake.

Then the final paper rolls around and the professor assigns everybody a partner to work with. In theory, it should still be a piece of cake, because there still isn't that much to do anyway.

So why is it so fucking hard all of a sudden?

Jungkook had never really noticed you before you became his designated collaborator for the month. Never saw you on campus, never saw you attending the games. Hell, he didn't even know your name until this final assignment.

"I watched it," he defends himself lamely.

"Okay. And?"

"It was good."

You frown, and all Jungkook can think about is how adorable that crease between your eyebrows is. How he just wants to reach across the table and smooth it over, or better yet, kiss it away.

He's fully aware of how stupid he must look, with his sweaty palms and his words falling over each other like goddamn Jenga pieces, in front of a girl that he's been obsessed with for weeks now. Jungkook doesn't normally do crushes, but the more time he spends with you to work on this lame ass paper, the more he finds his mind drifting to you even when you're not in his vicinity.

He thinks you're so pretty when you absentmindedly bite your lip whenever you're concentrating. He thinks you always smell like jasmine, and he's delighted by how your scent lingers on his own clothes after every time you meet, like he's carrying home a reminder of you. He thinks you're ten leagues smarter than him when you text him whole paragraphs detailing how postmodern filmmakers flirt with the concept of identity fragmentation through different types of cinematic manifestation as a reflection of the realistic postmodern person, because what the fuck does that even mean?

"You're not doing a very good job at convincing me you watched the movie," you say.

Jungkook groans internally - and a little externally too - as he runs a hand down his face. "I watched it, I promise," he tells you. "I watched it, and I really liked it. It made me think about a lot of deep shit that I don't normally think about."

"Uh huh," you say slowly. Your frown is still there, but now it's embedded in confusion as you try to understand his dilemma. "Then tell me about that. What was the deep shit?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

How is he supposed to explain that every single thought he had suddenly grew legs and yeeted itself out the window the second he saw you arrive today, wearing a stunning smile and a t-shirt that says Caution: Full of Shenanigans? Not once in his entire life had Jungkook felt so no thoughts, head empty.

"Because I can't think around you," he settles on being honest. "Because I keep thinking about you when you're not here, yet when you are, I can't even think at all."

It takes a minute for his words to sink into your brain, and Jungkook watches nervously as a blush spreads across your cheeks, so rosy that he just wants to grab your face and pepper kisses all over. For the first time since he has known you, you don't know how what to say.

The sight of you, rendered speechless by him being rendered an idiot, has Jungkook blushing too. Despite the patch of bashful silence that ensues, somewhere outside the metaphorical windows of his and your minds, both your thoughts are riding off into the sunset together, holding hands.

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sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan · 5 months

Text

The Chair Theory Part 2

Yuri, Fiona and Damian’s Chair

This is a continuation of this post, but if you want the summary of the post, I’ve shared my thoughts about how the seating capacity or size of the designer chairs in the volume cover of each manga represents the relationship with others of the person sitting there. I’ve also shared my thoughts on how the comedic inside covers is connected to the person sitting in the cover and the person who sits in the chair in those funny inside chapters are the person who understands the person in the cover the most.

So now let’s move to Volume 5-7 and maybe I’ll analyze Yuri alongside Fiona since I’ve already tackled some of Fiona in the recent post when I compared it to Yor, but her cover and inside cover has some similarities with Yuri that I found interesting.

Volume 5 & 6, Yuri’s Barcelona Chair and Fiona’s Heart Cone Chair

Because of the position of the chair in the cover, it’s actually hard to see how big exactly the chair Yuri is sitting on, but based on most Barcelona Chair pictures that I see, it is spacious but it seem to only fit one. It could fit two but I think it’ll be uncomfortable, and Yuri seems to be taking a lot of space, indicating he doesn’t want anyone to sit there with him. I think this indicates how, even though he is now in the position that allows him to have relationships with others, he limits himself from doing this, only revolving his world around his sister. It is true Yuri is open and friendly (just not to Loid because he’s her sister’s husband) but he isn’t interested in having an intimate or deep relationship with anyone other than Yor.

I’ve already discussed how the seating capacity of Fiona’s chair indicates her selfish desire to be loved by Twilight. However, even though she loves Twilight, she will never be in a position to accept him for she didn’t love him for who he really was. He was not the perfect spy she deemed him to be. He has flaws, fears and doubts and Yor was the one who sees that everyday and embraces all his imperfections. (I have more to say about her but I've decided to put them in a separate post for I think it's going to be a long one)

So this is the part where we can notice similarities between Yuri and Fiona. Compared to the first four volumes, their inside cover wasn’t something that happens in reality. Both of their inside covers are the fantasies in their minds (notice that's its inside a thought's bubble), their deepest desires; Yuri wants to torture Loid for him and his sister to divorce their marriage (we can see him holding that divorce paper in his hand and also Loid was sitting in a different chair in the cover) while Fiona wants to marry Twilight (We can see her in a wedding dress holding a marriage certificate which opposes the one on Yuri’s and yeah she’s still the one sitting on her chair). And in Fiona’s cover, we also see her desire to get rid of Yor, the same as how Yuri wants to get rid of Loid.

But those things aren’t real, they are trapped in those fantasies and both of them seem to have no grasp of reality or are refusing to admit it. Their inside covers could also display how Yuri is Twilight's antagonist while Fiona is Yor's.

Volume 7- Damian’s Willow Chair

The Seating Capacity

Damian’s chair is too big for a little kid like him as Endo pointed out. He’s also sitting in the middle like Anya, reserving the spots on both sides for their parents. Damian craves for that familial love that was devoid of him. He always felt like he needed to prove himself and work hard in school just to be praised and get attention from his parents. That is why even though he wants to be as laid-back as Anya, and play and be like a normal kid, he can’t because he doesn’t want to disappoint. That is why all of the toys are hidden behind the chair. It was the desire to be a kid that he’s keeping within his heart.

Oh look, a number 7 pool ball was in front. It could be because this was volume 7 but we all know Anya’s experimental number is 007 too right? Could it just be a coincidence? Maybe… or maybe not.

But in the comedic inside cover, Anya is the one sitting on his chair. Yes, Becky is also there and so is Emile and Ewen but it was Anya who was sitting there, copying his pose. Connecting to my first post, this means that the one who understands him the most is Anya. Besides from being the one who knows what’s on his mind, they were both seeking familial love and acceptance. They are both motivated by receiving praise and acknowledgement by their Fathers particularly. But Damian seems to be serious like what he looks on his cover while Anya could still be a kid and be funny inside of the Forger family.

I love how in the fan book, in Anya’s character profile, it wasn’t Loid and Yor that was in her relationship tab at the bottom, it was Loid and Damian. (Please excuse my annotations 😅)

And for the covers of both these guys, she was the one sitting in their chairs, making the serious covers comedic.

I interpret this how she is the one who makes both of Loid and Damian’s life lighter and happier and how both Loid and Damian are concealing or denying the love they feel for Anya, in terms of Loid, his love for her as a father that is way beyond the mission and for Damian, his crush on Anya that he can’t admit out of pride and embarrassment.

Okay so that concludes the second part of the chair theory. I don’t actually have a lot to say about Volume 8-13, and I don’t know what Franky’s, Becky’s and Emile and Ewen’s inside covers are. I saw the raw but I can’t understand what they’re saying. So maybe I’ll conclude the chair theory through this post for now.

I'll deal with Fiona on my next post because I just realized something but let me gather the evidences first.

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rynwritesreid · 4 months

Note

hiii<3 could you do a fluff/smut with #’s 10&12?

thank you <3333

A/N: Sorry it took me a while to get to your request, I hope you enjoy it my love <3 Also, thank you for your request. I love writing them <3

Prompts: 10 “I wish you knew how perfect you are” and 12 “You can’t be that innocent”

Content: Fem!reader. Love confession. Fluff and smut. Loving and caring Spencer. Fingering(F!receiving). 18+

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

You weren’t necessarily a private person; you just didn’t like sharing everything about your life with the people you worked with. You loved them, trusted them with your life, but they knew everything about everyone else, and you liked to have some secrets.

Because of this, Emily and Derek liked to tease you about how innocent you seemed. You played into the jokes, laughing along with them, it truly didn’t bother you. Spencer had confessed to you that they used to make these jokes about him too, but they stop after a while.

Because of this, Emily and Derek liked to tease you about how innocent you seemed. You played into the jokes, laughing along with them; it truly didn’t bother you. Spencer had confessed to you that they used to make these jokes about him too, but they stopped after a while.

One day, during a rare moment of downtime at the BAU office, you found yourself scrolling through old case files on your computer. Emily sauntered over, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and draped herself over the back of your chair.

"Y/N, I've been thinking. Maybe it's time you let us in on some of those secrets of yours," she suggested, a playful smile on her face.

You smirked, pretending to contemplate the idea. "Oh, you mean my exciting double life as a secret agent? Or maybe I'm a gourmet chef on the weekends."

Emily chuckled, "I was thinking more along the lines of a mysterious past involving international espionage, but chef works too."

Derek, overhearing the conversation from his desk, joined in with a teasing grin. "Come on, Y/N, you have to some dark secrets. What's the real story?"

You rolled your eyes, playing up the innocence they teased you about. "I'm afraid my life is as thrilling as it gets: work, home, and occasionally binge-watching crime dramas. The usual."

The jokes, however, continued, with the team chiming in with their own outlandish theories about your mysterious life. Spencer, ever the voice of reason, observed from his desk. Eventually, the conversation shifted, and the team returned to their tasks.

After the workday, you had decided to head home. You rarely ever got opportunities like this to relax, and you were looking forward to some very well-deserved down time. You made some cheesy tomato pasta and decided to re-watch Bones. You don’t why you enjoyed watching crime dramas so much, especially when you did it for a living, but you did.

Half through an episode, you heard a light knock at your door. You walked over and peered through the peephole. Standing there was Spencer with a paper bag in his hands. “Hey Spencer. You, okay?” you asked, opening the door to let him in.

Spencer flashed a shy smile and stepped inside, holding out the paper bag. "I brought you some dinner. Thought you might be hungry."

You chuckled, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Spence. You really didn’t have to do that. But I’ve already eaten. You’re more than welcome to stay though.”

“Thank you, I know I didn’t have too.” he replied softly. "But I wanted to. Plus, it's a good excuse for me to escape my apartment and have some company."

You smiled at Spencer's sweet gesture, appreciating his desire for company. "Well, I'm glad you decided to come over. It's always nice to have some company, especially when it's you."

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly at your words, but he chuckled and walked further into your apartment. You closed the door behind him and gestured for him to make himself comfortable on the couch while you tidied up the living room.

As you settled down next to him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of ease and comfort in Spencer's presence. He had always been the one who understood your need for privacy, never pushing you to reveal more than you were comfortable with. It was one of the reasons why you had grown so close to him over the years.

"So," Spencer began awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands. "I've been thinking about what Emily and Derek said earlier. Do you really have any secrets?"

You raised an eyebrow playfully. "Are you asking me to spill my secrets, Dr. Reid?"

Spencer blushed and looked down at his lap. "Well, I mean... if you're comfortable sharing, I would love to know."

“Spencer, I really don’t have any secrets. Emily and Derek just want me to spill about my sex and dating life. If I had any secrets I would tell you, I promise.” You chuckled.

Spencer's blush deepened as he fumbled with his words. "No, no, I mean... I didn't mean it like that. I just... I want to know you better, Y/N. Not because of some gossip or curiosity, but because I genuinely care about you."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, realizing the sincerity behind them. Something shifted in the air between you two, and you couldn't deny the sudden surge of attraction that coursed through your veins.

Leaning closer to him, you spoke in a soft voice laced with vulnerability. "Spencer, I care about you too. And if there's anything you want to know, anything at all, I'm here to listen."

His eyes met yours, filled with a mix of curiosity and longing. "Well, there is one thing..." Spencer hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I've always wondered what your first kiss was like."

You chuckled softly at his question, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your body. "My first kiss? Well, it wasn't anything extravagant or romantic, that's for sure. It was in high school, at a party. I had a crush on this guy named Jake, and we were playing spin the bottle. When it landed on him, my heart started racing."

Spencer listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours as he hung onto your every word. Encouraged by his interest, you continued. "We both leaned in nervously, not really knowing what we were doing. But when our lips met, it was like a spark ignited inside me. It was innocent and sweet, but it made my head spin and my cheeks blush."

A small smile tugged at Spencer's lips as he imagined the scene you described. "That sounds... magical," he whispered.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was. And I haven't felt anything quite like that since." The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the tension between you and Spencer palpable. You could feel the electric chemistry as your eyes locked, both of you caught in the moment.

Without realizing it, you found yourselves drawn closer together. Your heart pounded in your chest as Spencer's hand gently brushed against yours, sending shivers down your spine. His touch was tender, his fingers intertwining with yours as if they were meant to fit perfectly.

You leaned in, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips. The anticipation built, a mix of nervousness and excitement swirling within you. And then, finally, your lips met in a soft, delicate kiss.

It was a kiss filled with longing and yearning; a culmination of unspoken desires finally being realized. Time seemed to stand still as you melted into each other's embrace, savouring every moment of this newfound connection.

Spencer pulled back, “I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve profiled you before. I hate how you hide yourself away, how you stop yourself laughing. Or look to the ground when someone you don’t fully know enters a room. I hate how you act like you’re not the most beautiful person to ever exist.” He paused for a second, gently moving some hair out of your face. “I wish you knew how perfect you truly are.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as Spencer's words washed over you, his sincerity and vulnerability piercing through the walls you had built around yourself. In that moment, you realized just how deeply he cared for you, accepting even the parts of you that you deemed imperfect.

"I... I never knew you felt that way," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of awe and gratitude. "Spencer, I... I don't know what to say."

He smiled softly, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek. "You don't have to say anything, Y/N. Just know that you are deserving of love and happiness. And if you're willing, I would be honoured to show you just how much you mean to me."

Your heart swelled with emotion as you reached out to cup his face in your hands. Without hesitation, you pressed your lips against his once more, this time with a newfound confidence and passion.

The kiss deepened, the connection between you and Spencer growing stronger with each passing second. It was as if the floodgates had opened, releasing years’ worth of unspoken desire and pent-up emotions. Your hands found their way to Spencer's hair, tangling in the soft curls as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss even further.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, creating an intoxicating friction between your bodies. The heat between you was undeniable as the boundaries of friendship were transcended in this moment of pure vulnerability.

The air was thick with anticipation and a hunger for more. Lips moved with urgency, tongues danced in a passionate tango, exploring each other's mouths with a desperate need for deeper connection.

Spencer's breath hitched as you trailed kisses along his jawline, peppering his skin with featherlight caresses. He let out a soft whimper that resonated deep within your core.

His hands roamed your body, tracing the curves and dips. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and you found yourself losing control, giving in to the raw desire that consumed you both.

The couch became a distant memory as you stumbled towards the bedroom, your lips still locked in a fervent embrace. Clothes were discarded along the way, leaving a trail of fabric strewn across the floor.

As you entered the room, Spencer gently pushed you against the wall, his hands desperate to explore every inch of your exposed skin. The heat between you was unbearable, an inferno of desire that threatened to consume you both.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. A moan escaped your lips as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, igniting a primal hunger within you. The sensation sent shivers down your spine and pooled desire between your thighs.

With trembling hands, you reached for the hem of Spencer's boxers, eager to rid him of the last barrier separating you. His breath hitched as you tugged them down, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes met his, a silent agreement passing between you.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed as if you weighed nothing at all. The anticipation was palpable, the air crackling with electricity as he placed you gently on the soft sheets.

Spencer's eyes burned with desire as he hovered above you, his gaze filled with a mixture of tenderness and raw need. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch sending heat coursing through your veins.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I've wanted this for so long, Y/N."

His words fueled the fire within you, igniting a hunger that couldn't be denied any longer. You reached up, pulling him down to meet your lips in a searing kiss. Your bodies molded together as if they were made for each other, a perfect fit of curves and angles.

The world around you ceased to exist as Spencer's hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Every touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second. Your skin prickled with anticipation as his fingers trailed along your thighs, teasingly brushing against your most sensitive areas.

A moan escaped your lips as Spencer's mouth left a trail of wet kisses down your neck, marking you as his own. His hands continued their exploration, caressing every curve and dip, leaving no inch of your body untouched.

You arched your back, craving more of his touch, more of the delicious friction that only he could provide. Spencer's fingers danced along your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to their ultimate destination. The anticipation was almost unbearable, driving you to the brink of madness.

And then, finally, his fingers found their mark, sliding through the slick folds of your arousal. A gasp escaped your lips as he teased your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body and into the depths of your soul. Your back arched off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as Spencer's expert touch brought you to the precipice of ecstasy.

He continued his ministrations, his fingers skillfully exploring every inch of your most intimate desires. Waves of pleasure washed over you, intensifying with each stroke, each swirl of his thumb against your swollen bud. You couldn't control the moans that spilled from your lips, the raw need and desire consuming you completely.

As your pleasure built, Spencer's mouth found its way to your breasts, sucking and nipping at your hardened peaks. The sensations sent jolts of electricity straight to your core, heightening the pleasure coursing through every fibber of your being.

You were on the edge, teetering between blissful release and sheer madness. And just when you thought you couldn't hold on any longer, Spencer plunged two fingers inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that reverberated throughout your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers, desperately seeking more.

Spencer's skilled fingers moved with purpose and precision, curling and thrusting to find that sweet spot that would push you over the edge. The coil of tension within you tightened your body trembling with anticipation.

As if sensing your imminent release, Spencer lowered his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It was a desperate, hungry kiss filled with all the pent-up desire and longing that had been building between you for so long.

Your moans were swallowed by his mouth as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave. Pleasure wracked your body, rippling through every nerve ending. You clung to Spencer, riding out the waves of ecstasy together.

Time seemed to stand still as your bodies convulsed with pleasure, as if the universe itself was acknowledging the power of this moment. It was raw, passionate, and it left you feeling alive in a way you had never experienced before. The intensity of your connection with Spencer was breath-taking, leaving you both breathless and completely satiated.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Spencer reluctantly withdrew his fingers from your pulsing core. He hovered over you, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and desire. His gaze trailed down your quivering body, savouring every inch of your flushed skin.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, tenderly brushing away the strands of hair that clung to your damp forehead. "You're incredible," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with genuine awe.

A soft giggle escaped your lips as you basked in the afterglow, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you like a warm embrace. "And you, Spencer Reid, are absolutely amazing."

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with fondness. "I'm just grateful to have found someone like you." “And you know, ever since I saw how you shied away from the topic of your dating life, I knew you couldn’t be that innocent.”

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