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billybob598 · 4 months

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Were You Gay-Panicking? (Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader)

IM BACKKKKK!!! Here's my bi-monthly fic :) I'm actually kinda proud of this one, felt like some good writing. Anyhoo enjoy bitches! As always, any feedback good or bad is welcomed! PEACE

Summary: (first time doing one of these) A few months ago, Kyra had no idea who you were. Now? Now, she was gay panicking everytime she was in the same room as you.

Word Count: 4.6K (WTF?!?!?!?!?!)

Kyra didn’t exactly know how to feel about you. Sure, you were Aussie. Sure, you were an amazing fullback who could run forever and never seem winded. Sure, you were quite possibly the sweetest person ever. Sure, you were stunningly beautiful. Kyra paused, her eyes locked onto you as you laughed that adorable laugh at something Katie had said. Okay, the thing about you being beautiful kind of slipped out. It’s not like it’s not true though. You did have this just natural beauty to you, you barely wore makeup, but you still shone in Kyra’s eyes.

It was crazy that the two of you had never met before. You were roughly the same age, both Australian and now both Gunners. Unlike Kyra, you’re career up until this point had been riddled with injuries and unfortunate coincidences. Despite being an integral part of the Arsenal squad and having a breakout year last season, you were still not chosen for the World Cup, or any national team camps for that matter. Kyra had heard plenty about you from Steph and Caitlin, she had also seen you a bit on a few of the other Arsenal players' socials. You did have an Instagram account, but you rarely posted. Any true Arsenal fan knew who you were, but casual fans and Matildas’ fans probably hadn’t heard of you. You preferred to work in the background, you weren’t a big extrovert and your personality was more closed off so, consequently you weren’t insanely popular with the fans. So, when Kyra officially met you she had no idea how you weren’t the most liked player.

4 months ago

After finishing some of the required videos and finally signing her contract for The Arsenal, Kyra found herself wandering around the grounds. She had a few minutes until she was supposed to be at a press conference introducing all of the new signings, so she figured she could start exploring London Colney a bit more. As she passes through the locker room she hears some noise coming from the pitch. The distinctive sound of a boot colliding with a ball lures the Australian outside. The scent of fresh-cut grass and marking paint rushes into Kyra’s nose, bringing a soft smile to her face. Another ball gets kicked on the other side of the field. Turning her head, the midfielder is met with the sight of the prettiest woman she’s ever laid eyes on. She watched in awe at how your muscles flexed each time you struck the ball, her breath catching in her throat when you turn around. Your beautifully Y/E/C eyes glimmering, the sun hitting them just right.

“Oh, sorry. I thought the field was open.” You mutter quietly, your face heating up slightly.

“Uhm, it’s alright. I’m not here to play or anything. I mean-uh, well actually I am here to play, but not right now. At least I don’t think rig-” Kyra stumbles through her sentences until your giggle cuts her off. She blushes at the sound.

“No, I get what you mean,” you both stand there awkwardly, shifting your weight from foot to foot nervously, “Well, I should probably get going.”

“Wait! Uhh, I mean you sound Australian, you are right?” Kyra asks, desperate to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, yeah I am. I’m from Geraldton, you?” Your voice is quiet, but Kyra is already in love with it.

“Herston, have you ever been?”

“Yeah, I mean I’ve been to Brisbane, it’s nice.” The conversation comes to a awkward lull, Kyra can see how nervous you are.

“I’m Kyra by the way.” She extends her hand out to you. Glancing at it, you smile softly and take it.

“I know, Caitlin and Steph never shut up about you. I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“You’re the Y/N Y/L/N? Holy shit, Caitlin and Steph never shut up about you.” A small blush forms on your cheeks. Kyra swoons at how flustered you look. She takes another second to admire everything about you. Just as she went to speak again a voice from behind her called out, telling her the press conference was about to start. “I’m really sorry, I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” With one last smile, Kyra begins to back up and then turns and jogs to the man waiting for her. Tentatively, you touch your cheeks where the blush was still, very prominently, there.

2 months ago

You watch from afar as Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph swing around from the bars singing along to Strawberry Kisses. A smile appears on your face when Kyra lets out a loud, silly laugh.

A voice startles you out of your love-possesed trance, “You know, you’re really not subtle, like, at all.”

“Shut up, Beth.” The England national smirks and for the next fifteen minutes proceeds to tease you about your developing crush on the new signing.

“Okay, Beth, I think she gets it.” Your saviour, Viv, intervenes after her girlfriend makes a kissy face aimed towards you and Kyra. Beth groans and mumbles something about Viv not being any fun. Viv lets you go back to watching Kyra workout/goof around for a few moments before throwing her two cents in,

“You like her? Like, like like her?”

You sigh, “I don’t know yet. Would it be terrible if I did?”

Viv shakes her head with a small chuckle, “Would it be terrible if you found someone you really liked and someone who is genuinely a good person? No, it’s not that bad.” You roll your eyes.

“It feels pretty terrible. But, I guess it’s not too bad, especially since she’s never gonna like me back.” The older woman gives you a look, one that screams “you’ve got to be joking right now”. You and Viv had a certain connection to each other. Both of you were introverts on a team full of extroverts, so it was nice to have someone who didn’t mind just sitting in peace and quiet without any of the pressure of having to be “on”.

“If Kyra liking you back is so crazy, then why is she staring at you right now with literal heart eyes?” Your head whips forward to find Kyra already looking at you. A blush was already creeping up your neck and you hadn’t even held eye contact for more than two seconds.

Kyra is watching you carefully when your head turns to look at her. Her heart flutters when your cheeks tint red. A sense of pride swells in her chest at being able to make you blush.

“You two make me sick,” Caitlin says from behind Kyra. Steph is quick to shush the younger Aussie,

“They’re just in love, Cait. You can’t stop young love,” she says an annoying smirk tugging at her lips. Kyra rolls her eyes at her national teammates antics.

“We are not in love. She definitely doesn’t like me, mate.”

“Sure,” Caitlin drawls out, seemingly unconvinced.

“She doesn’t. I’m like 1000% sure.”

“Then why does she blush everytime you look at her, smile at her, or laugh?” Steph says, amused.

“Wh-What? No, she doesn’t. I think I’d notice.” The two older Aussies share a look, then they grab Kyra’s head and force it to look at you. Your eyes widen when you and Kyra make eye contact, heat already rushing up to your cheeks. She gives you a warm smile which does nothing to help your burning cheeks. Deciding that you’ve had enough biking for today, you step off the bike extremely ungracefully, bumping into everything and everyone. Kyra giggles from across the gym, her Australian friends rolling their eyes.

“See? You two are so in love,” Steph tries to convince the younger girl. A frown replaces the small smile on Kyra’s face when you leave the gym,

“Whatever. You guys suck.”

2 weeks ago

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” Tony Gustavsson’s calm voice brings you back to reality.

“Oh, uh, yes sir. I mean, yes coach. Thank you so, so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.” Your voice is shaky and weak. Someone’s warm hand covers yours, lifting your head up, your met with Kyra grinning from ear-to-ear. Returning her smile, you say your goodbyes to Tony and place the phone down carefully on the kitchen counter.

You were, once again, at Kyra’s apartment. The two of you had grown closer over the past few months, unknowingly both of you had swallowed down your feelings for each other, convinced the other didn’t feel the same. It was driving the rest of the team crazy, and it was about to get worse. Finally, you had gotten your first call-up to the national team.

You and Kyra had been cozied up on her couch, watching a Christmas movie (because it’s never too early to start is it?) when your phone had began to ring. Of course, Kyra had already received her call a few days ago. It was hardly surprising, after the World Cup and with her recent performances for Arsenal she was an obvious choice for the last two friendlies of 2023. You, on the other hand, had long given up your dream of playing for the national team. Being a little bit older than Kyra and a lot more injury prone, your caps for the Matildas stood at a resounding, zero. You had never even been to a camp. So, last year when Tony never so much as gave you a call, you put your Matildas dreams behind you and focused on your club football.

“Who is it?” Kyra mumbles sleepily, she had been on the verge of falling asleep, it was impossible not to. You were perfectly situated between her legs, your head resting comfortably on her chest. The movie did little to distract her from the scent of your perfume infiltrating the hoodie she was wearing.

“I don’t know, Ky. It looks like an Australian number.”

“Wait, I know whose number that is.” She says, now fully awake.

“Who?”

She takes a deep breath, trying to hide her smile, “It’s Tony’s. Like Tony Gustavsson. The head coach of-”

“Yes, I know who Tony Gustavsson is! You don’t think he’s calling to invite me to camp is he?” You exclaim, your nerve levels rising as the phone continues to ring.

“Only one way to find out.”

Standing up, phone in hand, you take a breath before accepting the call. Kyra sits up on the couch, her hands loosening her grip on your waist.

“Hello?” Slowly making your way to the kitchen, Kyra only catches your side of the conversation. She takes a seat at the counter watching nervously as you pace back and forth in front of her. You pause. It looks like you’re trying to process everything. “Oh, uh, yes sir. I mean, yes coach. Thank you so, so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.” A full-on grin breaks out onto Kyra’s face, she reaches across the counter and takes a hold of your hand. After hanging up, there is silence in the small apartment for a few seconds.

“So?” Kyra prompts softly.

“I’m going to play for fucking Australia!” You shout excitedly. You both squeal happily, Kyra rushes over and brings you into a tight hug.

“Now we’re national teammates as well!” Kyra says into your neck, her heart pounding as you laugh your beautiful laugh.

Over the next few days Kyra helps you pack for camp, telling you all of the basic information you’d need to survive while also filling you in on all of the important bits about the team itself. Who’s friends with who, what not to say to this person, why this person acts like this. She was surprisingly helpful. So, when you, Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph boarded the flight to Australia you actually felt pretty prepared. Kyra sat beside you on the flight, chatting your ear off, you didn’t really mind though. It was how your friendship went. Kyra would talk about anything and everything, while you listened carefully, never ignoring her. She found it endearing how you remembered everything she said, sometimes she didn’t even remember herself.

An few hours into the flight, Steph leans across the aisle asking Kyra if she knew who is supposed to bring them to the hotel when they land. Kyra remembers saying something to you about it so she turns and taps your shoulder. Taking out one of your earbuds, you look at them, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, do you know who’s supposed to be picking us up? I think I said something about it to you,” Kyra asks quietly, so as not to interrupt the other passengers.

“William.” You answer plainly. Kyra nods while Steph watches in shock.

“How in the hell did you know that? You don’t even know who that is.”

“Kyra told me last night, she also told me that she couldn’t wait to ride the ferry to Vancouver Island when we get to Canada.” Kyra blushes.

“I can’t believe you remember that,” she says, slightly embarrassed.

“It’s kind of hard not to when it’s all you would take about for ten minutes.”

Steph has to cover her laugh at Kyra’s mortified face.

“Is that seriously all I talked about last night?”

“You tend to do that. It’s actually kinda cute.” That last bit slips out before you can stop it. Now, you’re the one blushing. You decide it’s better to look out the window than to keep looking at them. Steph wanted to strangle the both of you. God, you were so oblivious. How could neither of you see that you were head over heels for each other? Whatever, you’d figure it out. Hopefully sooner than later because she had five pounds on you guys getting together before the new year.

After landing and grabbing your luggage, just as you said, William was there with a car to bring you all to the hotel the team was staying at. Walking into the lobby, cameras point at you four. Kyra and Caitlin grin and wave goofily at them, probably saying something stupid as well.

Steph smiles and waves happily, “Good to be home, huh?”

You walk behind them, looking up and waving at the cameras shyly, “Alright?”

“Hey, Y/N! Wanna do a quick interview with the other first timers?” One of the social media guys asks from behind the phone camera. Kyra stops. You look at her, uncertainty looming in your eyes.

She nods encouragingly, “Go on. I’ll take your stuff and get your room.”

“Thanks, Ky. I’ll see you later.” You smile and follow the man heading in the other direction.

“So that’s the girl you like!” Charli shouts from across the lobby.

Kyra flinches at the volume of her best friends voice, “Jesus Christ, Charli. Could you be any louder?”

“Wanna bet?” Kyra shakes her head, not wanting to see how far Charli can take things today. “She’s really pretty, I can see why you like her.” The blonde says in a much more indoor appropriate voice. Kyra just rolls her eyes in response.

After a few good days of training and getting to know everyone, the team was in Canada. Walking onto the ferry with your hoodie drawn tight to you and your toque covering the top of your head, Kyra was bouncing off the walls with excitement and energy.

“Kyra, for the love of God, please calm down.” Mini says, trying her best to calm the young midfielder down. Her words have no effect, Kyra continues doing laps around everyone. You were walking Sarah Hunter, another player about to earn their first cap, when Kyra gets in front of you and turns backward to talk to you.

“Hi Y/N! Aren’t you excited about the ferry?” She asks. Her hyperness, you notice, was starting to annoy some of your teammates, specifically Caitlin, who looked on the verge of pushing her Arsenal teammate into the Pacific Ocean.

“I am, Ky,” you lower your voice so only those close to you can hear, “But how about we tone it down, okay? We have lots of time to be excited, but maybe just chill for a few minutes so they can tell us where to go and what not, how’s that sound?”

Kyra listens to you, she falls into step with you and speaks a lot softer and calmer.

Mini stares on in disbelief, “Oh, Kyra is down bad. I mean, she didn’t even listen to me, but as soon as Y/N says something she’s on her best behaviour.”

Steph shakes her head, “You should see them at Arsenal, it’s unbearable.”

You and Sarah were in deep conversation about something Kyra couldn’t care less about. She wanted to go explore the ship, but she promised you she’d be on her best behaviour. Kyra is getting antsy and you can tell, she keeps turning her head every time there’s a new sound. You just needed to get wherever the guide wanted you guys to be and then she can do whatever she wants. Just as the team passes the gift shop, Kyra almost bolts. You catch her though, your hand intertwining with hers and securing her at your side. Kyra is taken aback by your actions and blushes profusely.

In a break in your conversation with Sarah, you lean over and mumble into Kyra’s ear, “I know, Ky. Just hold still for a little longer, okay?” Kyra nods and presses a small kiss to the top of your head. You almost die of a heart attack right there and then. Blushing, you squeeze her hand and get back into your conversation with Sarah.

“Holy shit, Kyra needs to man the fuck up and ask her out already,” Charli groans a few meters from behind you. Mini scolds her for her language, but silently agrees with her.

“Fuck me,” You mutter under your breath as Canada scores, again. Surprisingly, Tony had given you and a bunch of other players their first caps. Unsurprisingly, Canada had been dominating the entire match. You were exhausted from having to run up and down the pitch for all ninety minutes. It seemed like you were the only player who wanted to attack, or defend, or do anything at all. You definitely weren’t blaming the other Matildas on the field with you, for most of them it was their first time in their nations jersey as well. You guys were also facing a team determined to get revenge and send off their hero in the right way, so that was not helping at all. What also wasn’t helping was that there was maybe five minutes left in the match, so both teams kind of switched off. No one really cared about this blowout anymore.

Kyra was chewing on her nails as she watched another through ball to you get overhit and land straight at a Canadian defenders’ feet. She watched as you began your recovery run, eyes tracking the ball carefully. When Quinn tried to thread a ball to Prince you timed your slide tackle perfectly and intercepted the ball. The bench stood up clapping and shouting encouragement to you. Keeping the ball close to your feet, you stood back up and began dribbling into space. The defense were dropping off, determined to keep a clean sheet. Your eyes scanned the field hoping to find anyone making a run. Unfortunately, your teammates seemed gassed. So, you started to pick up your speed with the ball. Skillfully, you dribbled around Fleming and Grosso, picking your head up once again to find Tameka making a run on the weak side of the pitch. You hit the ball, aiming to lead her into the miles of green grass in front of her. She controls the ball in stride and continues driving down the wide right channel. Continuing your run, you jog up to the top of the box hoping to put any rebounds back into the box. Tameka sends a cross into the box, it heads towards the penalty spot, multiple players jump up for it. Ultimately, Gilles gets most of it and clears it out to the top of the box. Right where you are. Kyra stands up. You watch as the ball arcs in the air and starts to drop towards you. It’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. You plant your left foot into the grass, the ball drops and drops and drops. Pulling your right foot back, you wait for it to just drop a little bit more. Now. Straightening your leg, you watch your foot connect with the ball. The ball surges forward while your boot recoils from the impact. Your eyes track the ball as it soars through the air, it slips past the outstretched foot of Buchanan, Amy Sayer jumps out of the way. The goalkeeper tries her best, but it’s useless, the net ripples as the ball buries itself into the top left corner. Screaming is all you hear, you’re frozen in your spot. Suddenly, Mary is in your arms and the rest of the team is hugging you and screaming at you.

“What a fucking legend!”

“Banger! Absoloute banger!”

“Mate, you’re actually insane.”

“First goal for the Matildas, bitches!”

Tears are welling up in your eyes as you set Mary down. Holy shit. You’ve always dreamed of scoring for the Matildas, all of a sudden that dream was a reality. Mary tugs on your hand and pulls you over to where the subs are screaming and jumping up and down. You laugh. Caitlin and Steph are the first ones to you, yelling at you that you’re a baller or something like that. After they let you go, Kyra is waiting for you. She’s got that blinding smile that you’ve always loved. She pulls you into a hug.

“I’m so, so proud of you, Y/N/N.” Her hands run gently through your hair, you sink into the hug, letting out a sigh.

“Thanks Kyra, for everything. Um, I should go though the ref looks mad.” She nods and relinquishes her hold on you. Jogging back into place, you breath deeply. Finally. You had finally done it. You were a fucking Matilda.

Present Day

The team had gathered for their annual Secret Santa party. This year, it was held at Viv and Beth’s house. All the players were crammed inside the living room, a lot of food had been consumed along with a lot of laughs being laughed. There had been a Christmas movie marathon (2 movies) where you and Kyra had found a nice spot on the couch for the two of you. There had also been a small potluck, everyone brining a small dish to share with the team. Now, it was time for the gift exchange. A few weeks ago, there had been a very formal name-drawing process. There were blindfolds and everything, you were actually kind of impressed at how serious the team took it. You had drawn Frida’s name which you didn’t really mind. You got along with her well, and you were both pretty chill so it was easy to hang out with her. Her girlfriend had helped you track down some Norwegian sweets that you know she loved, you also threw in an adorable polar bear stuffy you found at a cute gift shop in downtown, London.

Everyone was going in a circle, unwrapping their presents and guessing who their Secret Santa was. So far, there had been some really sweet gifts and some really funny ones. Such as Katie giving Leah a toy keyboard, one that was really meant for two year olds. Katie defended herself saying, “It was appropriate for Leah’s skill level.”

Soon enough, it was your turn. You searched the small tree sitting in the living room for a gift with your name on it. Finding it, you carefully picked it up and sat back in your spot between Kyra’s legs. All eyes were on you as you gently unwrapped the gift, not wanting to be rude and just tear apart the wrapping paper. A gasp escapes your lips, hand flying to your mouth in shock. Everyone asks you what it is. You take it out of its case and hold it up for the team to see. Gasps similar to yours fill the room. A diamond necklace with your first name initial as a pendant hung from your fingers. It must have cost at least £100. You look around the room desperately, looking to thank the giftgiver endlessly. Multiple people shake their heads. Finally, you look behind you, Kyra didn’t meet even try to meet your eyes. Her cheeks were burning red, her hand rubbing her neck nervously.

“Uh, do you like it?” You could hear the nerves in her voice. You were still a little shocked from the gift, so you stand up abruptly and grab her hand leading her towards the bathroom.

Slamming the door shut, you whip around to look at your fellow Aussie, “What the hell? Are you insane?” Kyra flinches slightly at your tone.

“Do you not like it? Because I can return it and get you something else,” her voice was unsure.

“Wha-? Of course I like it! I love it, I love you! But, Kyra this had to have cost a shiton, I can’t accept this as a gift.” You say forcefully, still not realizing what you had said. Kyra had heard it though.

“Wait, did you just say you love me?”

You freeze. Well, you had said that. Not on purpose, though. But, it’s not like it’s not true. Kyra tentatively reaches out and takes your hand in hers,

“Y/N?”

WIthout even thinking you crash your lips into hers. She gasps, but eventually melts into the kiss, your lips working against each others perfectly. Her hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly. Your hands wrapped behind her neck at first before moving into her hair. As you tug on her hair she lets out a soft moan, giving you access to her mouth. Slipping your tongue inside of her mouth, she gently pushes you against the bathroom wall. A soft gasp at the cold tile lets Kyra detach her lips from yours and begin working her way down your neck. She presses wet kiss after wet kiss onto your exposed skin. Finally finding your weak spot, you moan her name quietly. Her perfume, her mouth on your neck, everything about her was overwhelming your senses.

“Ky…Ky we have to stop, someone could hear us,” you moan out softly as she places more kisses on your collarbone.

“Mmm, maybe. Or we could just keep going?” She smirks playfully at you. Fuck, her smirk did things to you that you weren’t exactly proud of. Rolling your eyes, you pushed her off of you.

“They’re probably waiting for us to continue the Secret Santa. We shouldn’t keep them.”

Kyra groans and drops her head onto your chest. You laugh, and run your fingers through her hair soothingly.

“Umm, I really like you, you know?” Her voice is muffled against you, but you heard her loud and clear.

“Oh really? I had no idea,” you say sarcastically. She slaps your chest in response.

“Shut up, asshole.” Another laugh rumbles through your chest.

“Sorry, sorry. I really like you too, Kyra.” She smiles lazily and leans in for another kiss.

“Y’know, everytime I saw you I was, like, gay-panicking,” she confesses with a embarrassed smile.

“Awww, were you gay-panicking? That’s adorable.”

“Asshole.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #arsenal wfc x reader #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #auswnt #auswnt x reader #matildas #matildas x reader

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prodsh00ky · 5 months

Text

from the cradle to the grave

pairing: vampire!seonghwa x reader

warnings: use of words probably, crying, mentions of blood, death, war and violence, seonghwa creeps the reader out by breaking into their house, deja vu era seonghwa look combined with 2023 long haired hwa bc this should be a warning, some angsty stuff, fluff if u squint really really hard, past lives (sort of), reader is referred to using they/them pronouns but i might have left something that suggest they’re female/afab in the way; please let me know if there’s more

wc: ~4.6k words

notes: i tried to finish this in time for halloween (it was sitting in my drafts since 2021...) so this was supposed to be a spooky season fic. it didn’t work but here it is anyways! hope you guys like it. im a big vampire enthusiast and a bIG seonghwa enthusiast which makes me the biggest vamp!hwa agenda supporter so lets gooo

well, at least your gut feeling was probably right.

these last days have been… weird, to say the least. every time you’d go back to your apartment after college you felt like you were being observed, maybe even followed. it was like there was someone always behind you or around the place you were in a way that made you feel like you were never alone indeed, and you didn't like the shivers you got from it. to top it off, the whole thing was giving you even more bad nightmares than the usual; the most recent ones involved big mansions from the eighteenth century or something, a lot of fighting, blood and a pair of piercing eyes staring into your soul. the worst part was that you always forgot in the course of your day that you were having them, only remembering when waking up in a cold sweat from a new one. your friends told you it probably was due to the time of the year since spooky season just began, and you thought it might be it; a scary vibe was nothing less than expected from fall.

but the tall figure standing behind your favorite armchair that welcomed you home seconds ago after you locked your apartment’s door told you otherwise. you automatically move to grab your floor lamp to defend yourself.

“who are you and what are you doing here?”

“so you’re feisty. i should keep track of that.”

his voice is deep but also smooth. he’s probably a head and a half taller than you and wears a white shirt with a v cut, black trousers paired with a black blazer and his neck is adorned with a sole silk ribbon. when he turns to you, you get to see that his long black hair would probably reach his silver pendant earrings if it wasn't tucked into a fancy hairstyle with a silver pin holding the front and that his eyes are sharp and piercing (and strangely similar with the ones in your recent nightmares, but this time they feel familiar and not frightening as usual), just as the rest of his facial features. he is probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. but you still have no idea of who he is or how he got inside your house, so you quietly get your phone and dial 911.

“i'm going to repeat it just once more. who are you, what are you and how the fuck have you gotten inside?” he seems too entertained eyeing you from head to toe for some seconds, but he quickly wakes from his apparent trance and answers you.

“right. i'm sorry for the rudeness... and for the invasion, for that matter, although this apartment was virtually 100% accessible for me. oh, and for the last few days too, but i'm afraid the observing was necessary. i’m park seonghwa, one of the royal eight, and deeply pleasured to know you.” he bows lightly and opens his mouth to continue and it shows you a glimpse of long sharp canine teeth. it makes you interrupt him.

“so you’re the one who’s following me? know what, it doesn’t matter actually, i’m calling the cops.” you turn to open the door and get outside, however the keys aren't in the door handle anymore. with the lamp still in your hold you try to open the knob forcefully, adrenaline beginning to fill you due to despair, but the jittery sound of the keys dangling makes you turn to the stranger once more. he holds the keys with his left hand, the right one leaning in the armchair.

“forgive me for my ways, but calling the police won’t be needed and after you listen to me you’ll see why. i’m not here to hurt you in any way, it’s actually… quite the opposite. i was following you because me and my brothers needed to reach you, and after i finally found you i wanted to know who we were looking for. if you’re willing to give me some of your time, i’ll be happy to explain everything i can for now. please?”

considering your options, either you jump out of the window into a 65 feet fall or listen to him. but you still want to be sure someone is keeping track of you, so you move to open the window hoping today the old couple and the friendly lady who lives in the building next to yours and are always inviting you to spend the holidays and have dinner with them are gaping inside your place as usual and turn on the localization device in your phone.

“you have ten minutes.”

“thank you for considering my offer.” he answers, seemingly more relieved, and starts talking. “i’m not sure how to address it correctly… there probably isn't a correct way to do it, so i’ll be plainspoken. i’m a vampire, such as my brothers, and we need your help because you hold powers that can save our empire from the mass attack it is suffering right now.”

you huff, because it’s the only thing you feel like doing.

“you really invaded my house to fool me into a halloween prank? who made you do it? oh, it must have been yeonjun and kai, right? i'm calling the bastards right now, this is way off limits.” you manage to grab your phone in your pocket again but, just like your keys, you see it appearing in the guy’s hands.

“it’s not a prank and your human friends have nothing to deal with it, swear with my long gone soul. i am indeed a vampire, as you can verify by my teeth. vampires exist, such as some other ‘magical creatures’, as your people like to call us. i’m park seonghwa, the second vampire emperor, or prince, whatever you’d prefer, and am here to plead for your help because my empire is perishing and the eight of us can’t do much without you.”

the serious way he’s speaking almost convinces you, but it still sounds so crazy and nonsensical you keep yourself skeptical. you can't avoid some classical questions, though.

“why aren’t you burning or shining in the sun, then? and i don't see you sweating due to the giant amount of garlic in my kitchen. there’s no proof to your allegations, fang boy.”

seonghwa finds it really hard to suppress a smile. you were much more fun (and cute) than he thought, and seeing you being so doubtful only added to the feeling he had.

“because not all the tales you humans like to tell about us are true. garlic does not affect vampires at all, i have no idea where this... thing came from. we only get paler in the sunlight, as you may perceive.” he moves closer to your window, and you can see his slightly tanned skin turning paler and paler until his veins start to become proeminent and dark blue in his skin. it’s almost as if he's like a living canvas full of paint.

“i don’t believe you.”

“do you expect me to prove my identity then? because the only way to do it is by feeding, and im afraid you’re the only human in the nearer 260 feet at least.'' he steps closer and while he’s talking you see his fangs getting longer. and sharper. he touches his pointer finger with his teeth and his skin rips easily as if a needle had been dragged along it. when you look into his eyes they’re rouge as… blood. fear creeps into you and you step back, moving your head no.

“y-you can go on! i will hear you, i p-promise. i'm not exactly doubting it anymore.” you say, voice weak with fear. you move to your couch slowly, eyes still fixated in his every move. “i-im going to sit because this doesn’t sound like a conversation i’ll be able to take in while standing. feel free to sit too.” he moves to sit in the same armchair he’s leaning, but you start to talk again before you forget and his eyes move up to you again. “oh, but i want my keys and phone. you’ll not be getting my help making it look like you want to keep me in captivity.”

he nods, putting your phone and keys in your center table. you grab them almost immediately murmuring “thanks” because well, look where you are. he nods again and waits until you stop moving to talk.

“i’m shall start from the beginning since you have no familiarity with the vampires situation, right?” you nod, asking yourself what a vampire situation would mean. “the… ‘magic’ realm, i’ll call it this way for now because it’s easier, is hidden from human eyes. we have our own rules that exist to ensure mainly two things: that we won’t reveal ourselves to you with ease and that we will have peace, or anything closest to it, within us. some centuries ago people lived in balance and each kind had their own inside rules and organization besides these two major ones, but a riot some of the folks started created chaos and eventually a war. it was a slaughter; many villages were destroyed and many creatures, killed. it’s one of the darkest chapters of our story.

“wait, what do you mean by ‘creatures’ and ‘folks’? you’re not saying…”

“witches, elves, mermaids and sirens, gnomes, fairies, fauns, they’re all real. at some level, at least. i say this due to the fact you humans love to fantasize about their characteristics way too much, as you could testify with me and the sun belief you had. the majority of things you assume you know about them or about ur are probably inaccurate.”

your frown, “and what is the truth about all of you, then? what is wrong in the things i’ve been taught?”

there’s hints of a smirk in his lips, but he tries his best to keep neutral. “curious, aren't’ we? i’d love to share it with you, but it’s best that you learn it by yourself.” your eyebrows raise and he gets the sign to keep talking. “we’ll get there, do not worry.”

he takes a deep breath, a shadow of something gray crossing his sharp features. “after the war finished, pretty much all that was left was chaos. in an effort to save the survivors, an assembly was arranged so we could fix new rules and try to establish things. it happens that the vampires were the race that had the fewest deaths and casualties during the war and managed to better organize ourselves for that to happen, so it was decided by majority that we would rule all races from then on.”

“holy crap-” you tap your mouth, using the best of your self control skills to not laugh in his face, “this sounds like a fanfic i’d have read when i was twelve. how did you guys manage all the power? and you said majority, not unanimity. there was someone against it, i suppose.”

seonghwa allows himself to smile, happy to observe you notice things rather quickly. you try to suppress your own reaction; if he was already handsome poker faced, it felt like his smile alone could convince you about anything he was saying and more. “we accepted it, since it was what most wanted. some begged, even, at some point of the discussion. it was never easy, though. we have faults and committed many mistakes, some worse than others and some… unforgivable, if i’m being honest. but i assure we hardly did then out of personal selfishness, the weight of keeping things in place is always something that humbles us down. and yes, you assumed correctly, there were people against it.”

he pauses abruptly, looks at you and laughs quietly, which confuses you. the fact that his laughing warms you inside has nothing to do with it, you reassure yourself.

“what?”

“if you thought the previous facts i’ve told you sounded like a… fantasy book or so, you can’t wait for the next bit.” he tries to dwell his laughter down to answer you, but you can see he’s struggling. “guess who disagreed with us being in power?”

it takes you less than a millisecond to reply. “no shit it were the werewolves.”

he starts laughing again but freely, not trying to refrain himself, and this time you can’t control the shocked smile that creeps onto your face along with your eyes widening.

“jesus fuck, seonghwa-” you have to pause for a second to recompose yourself, because you started laughing too hard along with him without even realizing, “it was already hard to believe the whole vampire convo and all, now you’re saying that not only other species of magical creatures do exist but the rivalry between vampires and werewolves is real? how do you expect me not to think this is some sort of twilight remake?"

“oh, no, not that movie,” he says while trying to stop laughing, “i’ve never watched it but it has caused enough misunderstandings already about us.”

you eye him up and down, “have some respect, it’s a masterpiece! i’m sure you just have never watched it because you know you’ll get inferiority complex since you’ll never be edward cullen.”

“i’ll pretend i know what you’re talking about and agree.” you laugh but on your own this time, and he can’t avoid admiring the wrinkles in your face when you do it. “resuming, the werewolves were never exactly comfortable with the idea of us in power in the first place, but as i said it was what the majority wanted. it has been like this for over eight centuries, and everything was going peacefully until around the nineteenth century. the werewolves started a rebellion against our empire, and to do it joined forces with each and every wrongdoer in our realm. they managed to have each and every single creature that had committed horrendous crimes as their allies, which caught us by surprise. we’ve tried to talk to them in the beginning, but it didn't work; they started to kill vampires and pretty much everyone that agreed with our power. it has been like this since then, and we were succeeding in controlling the war until one century ago.”

“oh.” nice way to react, you think. but what would be a great reaction for a narnia x game of thrones crossover of sorts? “i’m… i’m sorry, i guess. i’m not sure how to properly react to all of this, and it’s harder to conceive it as true. and what does it all have to do with me? swear i’m trying not to be a jerk or so, but why are you telling me all of this? why did you come after me?”

seonghwa, once again, has to control a smile creeping in. “because you, y/n, might be the key to saving everything.”

your brain short circuits. “what?” you freeze, wanting to laugh in his face, but the serious and hopeful look he gives you indicates he’s telling the truth. then a detail, a tiny but important detail comes to your mind. “wait- how the fuck do you even know know my name? i haven’t said it to you until now, there’s pretty much no mail you could get that from and most of my friends call me by nicknames, how do you know it?”

despair flashes through his eyes, but it’s only for a second. “well, here's where things start getting… interesting. or complex. i know it might sound crazy but… there’s… you… you’re…”

its the first time he seems uncertain or insecure and maybe even afraid in his speech if you squint, but the next bit that comes out of his mouth makes everything really sound like a big joke.

“i’m afraid there’s no easy way to let you know this, so i’ll have to be straightforward. you’re a living amplifier to any type of supernatural being. this amplifying power is given to a human in earth as a blessing from whatever force that keeps the universe balanced from time to time, but there are always at least a few centuries that part the amplifiers’ births. the last amplifier was a friend, an ally of ours that helped - or rather lead us vampires to our victory and was the sole reason why i and pretty much all of the survivors are still alive. i know your name because it was one of the last words he said before passing after sacrificing so much to guarantee peace amongst supernatural folks. i’m here to ask or rather plead for your help, because although we have more resources and ways of fighting now we’re afraid that it might not be enough for the challenges we might face.”

you blink once. twice. then you sneer.

“you know, i was almost believing you. i’m ashamed to admit it, but it was almost getting to me. but after this i'm afraid i’ll have to call kai and yeonjun and tell them to stop fucking with me every halloween season because this is way off limits. you’re a great actor, though,”, you say, reaching for you phone, “i’m sure you’ll go the distance or so. your costume is very well made too, i have no idea who thought about the eye mechanism but is sure surpr-

he takes your hand with his extremely cold one before you reach your phone.

“please. me and my brothers don’t have much time to deal with your doubts properly, and i’m sorry about that, so i beg of you. it probably sounds way far from your human rationality, but have you never felt anything different? any other type or force or liveliness different from what others feel? have you never seen the way some people thrive when they’re by your side? how they go higher than they probably would if they weren’t close to you? how it’s so easy for your to really connect to the people you love and how pleased they seem to be to love you back? have you ever felt observed? have you never seen that there are beings trying to put their eyes on you all the time, specially in nightmares?”

you head starts to spin. yes. he actually had a point. your presence around people you liked seemed to bring them more joy and great opportunities for some unknown reason, and it has been this way since ever. your childhood nickname was “lucky” due to this; the games and toys were funnier and happier when you were around, even if one of your friends got hurt - it would be fine, after all, right? the foster home you grew up in started to receive more donations after you arrived, and your foster dads were able to house even more children. your presence became a must in problem solvings while you grew up, because, for some reason, the fact that you were there made it all calmer and somehow easier. your friends would get higher grades, nicer positions in the school teams, greater opportunities and happier memories if you were involved or cheering for them; you were a walking lucky charm all over your life. your parents, your foster siblings and the few real friends you have always said the love they feel towards you is different than any type of love they’ve ever experienced. kai and yeonjun even like to joke that you have some type of magic on your blood or something, because they feel that your friendship will undoubtedly last for the rest of your life, no room for doubt.

and the nightmares. they were way more intense and frequent when you were a child. creepy and lone places, destroyed cities, dark alleyways stained with blood, desolated ghost-like faces, cries of help you never knew whom they belonged to. but the worse ones were the ones that had eyes around aware of your every move no matter what you did. they were the ones that offered your nights of sleep no mercy and made you wake up crying hard and shaking up from despair for years. funnily enough, they always seem to happen again frequently each spooky season.

“i-i suppose you’re right in some way, b-but-”

“have you had a time where you painted a lot? maybe when you were a kid?”

that’s what breaks you.

“h-how the fuck do you know this?”

his lips curve up, a sad smile reaching his eyes. “eden, the last amplifier, was a painter. probably one of the best ever seen in the whole world, if i have a say on that. an amplifier born will always have and nurture the last amplifier’s talents for at least some time, specially during their childhood. if you took on his talent, i bet your paintings were astonishing, even more for a child.”

your memories flash in front of your eyes: how many paintings have you made for your parents’ office? how many times did you spend your early sunday mornings painting in order to gift your siblings? how many of these were still with them, in their houses, becoming part of the scenery of their lives until nowadays? and why the fact you abruptly stopped doing them when you were nine or ten had never made sense until now?

“i’m- i’m sorry, but- this must be some type of misunderstanding or bad taste joke, that’s ithe only explanation, that's it-”

“as said before im deeply sorry that we don’t have more time to do this with ease but…”, he huffs, looking down and then to you again, “this is what will have you believing me. i’m really sorry.”

he stares into your eyes for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight seconds straight.

and then it all hits you.

flashes of some of the places you saw in your nightmares, but this time live, in person, because you were there; a giant castle with an art studio, your beloved art studio, where all your creativity flew through the canvases, where life seemed to make more sense. flashes of people you never met; unfamiliar smiles in their faces, but the lingering feeling there’s no physical building that could carry your conception of home more than they could; nights together singing by the moonlight, but also serious conversations and arguing and fighting but always making up because, in the end, they’re your family; war and horrible battles and you standing in all of them offering everything this force inside of you could because things had to end in peace; crying, seeing red and hearing their last words for you. darkness, solitude, happiness, yearning, melancholy, bliss, doubt, joy, frustration, hope, all types of feelings that weren’t and were yours at the same time.

you snap out of it with the feeling of seonghwa’s cold thumbs drying the tears you didn’t realize were streaming down your cheeks.

“i’m sorry this is so unfair to you,” he whispers, “i really wish this could happen naturally, without demanding so much of you and shattering the world you know with such violence as it has always been with the others…”

for a while, you just allow him to hold your face and caress it, too overwhelmed by everything that’s flooding your brain. after what could be some seconds, minutes or even hours, you’re not sure at this point, you move away from his touch and he lets you go, something heavy in his eyes you are not able to decipher due to your state.

“you need time to digest it all, and you’ll have it. i’ll make sure that no nightmares or even visions plague your mind in the next days so you can rest. but i’ll have to come back in a week or two to ask you to come with me and help us if you’re willing to do it. i promise that i’ll answer any of your questions then and that more understanding of what you’re capable of will make it a bit easier. you can share all of this, but be sure to do it only with trusted ones and with as fewer people as possible.”

he gets up and makes the beeline to the door, but comes back and leaves a black business card in the table in front of you, just a single phone number written in red in it.

“if you need anything, do not hesitate to call this number and talk to me. i’ll do anything in my power to help you.”

he opens the door, turning to look at you for one last time. ”we’ll see each other again, y/n.”

seonghwa closes your apartment’s door and in a couple of minutes he’s walking in the street again. he takes his phone, dials a number he knows by heart and waits. the voice that answers him is curious, yet patient.

“hey, are you fine? how did it go?”

he huffs before replying, “as well as you would expect, hongjoong. they didn’t hit me with a broom or tried to shoo away with garlic, but also didn’t believe me until i forced them to see.”

“so you did have to hypnotize them?”

“unfortunately. humans got way too used to believe we’re bedtime stories, specially in this century, so it wasn't something i didn't expect, but i-”

“you’re not entirely comfortable with doing it too, i know. by the way, how did you feel? since it all probably got stronger, was it okay for you?”

seonghwa hesitates for a few seconds. “it was ecstatic, hongjoong. i’m not sure i’m able to fully translate it into words. the more time I spent there and the more I understood about who they are now the more it became hard to let go. this is nothing like anything else that i ever felt, and it’s only the first time i saw them. i feel lost but also as if i had finally found something very important inside me at the same time. i… have no idea of what to do.”

“maybe telling them, if you already didn’t?”

“no way. it was hard enough for them to believe the whole thing, it would be twice as hard if they knew- if i told them things probably would have been even harder. they’ll know when the right time comes.”

“sure, then. it’s your choice. are you already coming back?”

“yeah, i’ll call for the car in some minutes.”

“great. thanks, hwa. i know this was probably tough on you. come home safely.”

seonghwa replies with a hushed see you soon and hangs up. he knows hongjoong just wants to be sure, but they knew each other well enough for hongjoong to presume nothing of the matter would have been said to you by seonghwa.

because how could he? right after stealing the truth you had been living until and shattering it into pieces? it sounded too cruel for him, he felt it in the moment he laid eyes on you today.

time would say when he’d tell you that besides your name, eden also said that the next amplifier would be his soulmate, and that this would allow to change things forever.

©prodsh00ky 2023. no crossposting or translations allowed.

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qlossytbh · 16 days

Text

im so FUCKING stupid and i accidentally forgot to add tags and i deleted the anon request this fic was inspired from so i will paste it here

“Could you please write one about having a team night round Rossi's but you and Spencer had had an argument before so it was tense between the pair of you so you try and flirt with one of the out of town agents to try and get his attention?”

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧- 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you and Spencer don’t usually get along due to your constant battles to prove who was better. But some unplanned events arise when the two of you are paired in a case.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 enemies to lovers type beat, nerdy reader just like spence), typical criminal minds themes; murder, blood, gore, cocky and stubborn ready, slightly heated actions and implications, flirty rando, jealous spencer

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 4.6k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i always take requests to another limit. i get a little carried away oops. i don’t think this is exactly what you were asking for but this is where mi mind took me😁

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had come to no one's attention that you and Spencer had gotten into yet another argument. The BAU team was currently hunting down a murderer that was attacking teenagers in the college campus of UOC in the city of Chicago, and all that Reid seemed to be doing these past few days was getting on your nerves.

Wether it was searching the crime scene, analyzing the possible behavioral patterns of the UnSub, or setting down a profile, you and Reid were always spitting at eachother about something irrelevant, but always desperate to beat eachother with whoever could piss the other off more. It had always been a competition between the two of you.

Spencer had this aggravatingly, annoying need to prove he was always so much smarter than everyone else, using a wide variety of big intellectual words just to show off. He, on the other hand, truly couldn't stand how you'd always butt into every conversation you deemed necessary attempting to seem smarter just to get yourself on top of a case. Your ego had been Spencer's main problem across these past few months, but it was slowly driving him off the wall and he found that with each passing day, he was finding it harder to work with you.

Initially, when you joined the BAU, it was never your intention to brawl so much with a colleague, much less Spencer, who seemed like the least of a 'threat'. Hell, the most intimidating and hard to crack would have been Hotch, but during one of your first cases, still figuring out where you stood at in the team's divisions, he had purposely embarrased you in front of the everyone, correcting you and making you look like some sort of idiot. You had been so embarrassed, feeling your insides pool with anger as you questioned why he felt the necessity to correct you so publicly, in front of people you still didn't know.

It then became a constant competition to prove who was smarter, quicker on their feet or more widely intellectual than the other, always finding ways to one up each other in conversations. You were smart— very smart, and you suspected he saw you as a competition the second you stepped foot into the BAU team.

The rest of the team was sick of the two of you always whining and bickering. It could go from things as small as you leaving a few stacks of files scattered around his desk, messing with his organized personal area, or something as big as vocally getting into fights when out resolving cases.

Yesterday, the two of you got into a fight at the arrival to the city of Chicago. It started with you "accidentally" slamming the taxi door in his face, genuinely not realizing he was exiting the cab through the same side you did. Nevertheless, you weren't going to ignore the side of you that had screamed that it was well deserved. However, later on in the day the two of you had gotten into a heavier argument, since he finally accused you of being unprofessional with your snide comments, which had incredibly pissed you off. You had taken great offense since he was the one who had started everything since the beginning, immediately finding reasons to attack you the minute you got to the BAU.

Since then, none of you had spoken to each other and the rest of the team could feel the tension, even with the new arising day everyone had in front of them.

"So, let's lay it all out," Hotch announced as he rounded the table. "Who's starting?”

You and Spencer both volunteered at the same time. You quickly shot a glare in his direction, which he easily disregarded as he stood from his seat at the table

"So far, we know were looking for a male between the age of 20-25," You cross your arms across your chest and look over at the board, accepting your defeat. Your eyes scanned through the evidence and pictures at hand. While Spencer continued his analysis, hands shoved deep into his pockets, you squinted at the words scribbled onto the case file. "The killer seems to have a target preference given how all four victims have been female college students between the ages of 18-24"

"So, do we know which kind of killer were dealing with here?" Morgan asked, flipping through one the case files in his hands.

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, the last victim was killed with a different method than what we've been observing so far, which could ultimately mean we could be dealing with a disorganized offender—" He firmly stated, turning towards the board, but as your eye caught a part in the file, you were quick to interrupt.

"Actually, you are mistaken," You reached over, grabbing the file in front of you in one quick movement and flipped the page as you stood to your feet. Spencer froze and turned towards you.

"Excuse me?" He asked, clearly unamused at your antics. You briefly looked up at him, catching the way his jaw tensed.

"You're wrong, the killer isn't disorganized," You motioned to the board with your chin. "We're actually dealing with an organized offender."

Morgan glanced over at JJ, quietly cursing to himself knowing that this was probably payback from the fight the two of you had gotten into the day prior.

"Sure, this specific victim wasn't as calculated and precise as the other," You started. "Up until now, the UnSub seemed to be killing all of these girls with long, tedious methods, such as torturing them, which clearly shows us he feels no remorse and actually finds pleassure out of killing them. Organized crimes are premeditated and carefully planned, so that would explain why we found little to no evidence at the scene yesterday and organized criminals, according to the classification scheme, can tell right from wrong—"

"—But our buddy here doesn't care," Morgan finished off, looking up at you. With a nod, you continued

"Precisely. The pattern of our victims also leads us to believe that he's seeaking some sort of revenge on the girls, since they're all from the same background." You pointed to a few post-it notes on the board. "Right here it says that all four girls belonged to the same frat house on campus—"

"Yet our recent victim did not," Spencer butted in with a shurg as he faced you, thinking he had finally one upped you from the opposite side of the board. You took two warning steps towards him, maintaining your composure.

"Well, Dr. Reid, if you read the autopsy report you'd see that the newest victim died from a blunt force to the head," Annoyed was an understatement as to what you were feeling towards him at that precise moment. You eyes narrowed while you managed to keep on the most innocent smile you could. "That means that the attack was out of some unplanned rage, which caused him to lashout and therefore break his regime."

You took one more step to Reid, suddenly dangerously close to him. You were someone who stood very confidently in front of other people, and intimidating Reid had often been your specialty. You loved when he'd get so annoyed at you, his breaths would always suddenly become shallower and his posture would stiffen.

"If you payed more attention to these case files, you'd also see that the newest victims was our previous victims best friend, so there still is a connection just not the one you've been blindly looking for.

With that you slapped the files into his chest and stepped back, looking back over to the board. Spencer gapped at you, opening his mouth before closing almost immediatly. His eyes narrowed as he fumbled with the papers, looking down at them in embarrassment. You felt yourself smile at him in satisfaction at how his movements became sloppy. "I— I would've said that if you let me finish my analysis and let me actually read these papers."

"Or you can just admit you're slow—"

"So!" JJ butted in, quickly cutting off whatever fight was about to implode in-front of them. "Were looking for someone connected in the campus that would somehow want some sort of revenge on these girls? Correct?"

"Yes." You and Spencer stated simultaniously. You let your head fall, annoyance filling every single nerve in your body as he scoffed under his breath and shook his head in disbelief.

"Here's the plan then," Hotch stated firmly. "Tomorrow, Parentiss and I will be incharge of announcing the profile to the Chicago FBI. Morgan and JJ, you two will be incharge of dealing with collecting possible witnesses; anyone at that campus who knows anything that may deem useful."

You stood, arms suddenly fidgeting nervously at your sides. You quickly glanced over at Spencer, only to meet his eyes, which caused you to immediately look away and cross your arms once again.

"Reid, Y/L/N," Hotch said, finally acknowledging the two of you with a steady gaze. "You two will be assigned with a few members of the Chicago police unit and agents to help search building six to see if any evidence was left behind, just protocol checkings, but we need to be sure nothing was left unseen."

You opened and closed your mouth, intending to protest about the pairings. Sure you'd be surrounded by other agents but having to be paired up wiht Reid of all people was something you dreaded more than anything. However, with the intention to remain professional you nodded in agreement. As hard as you found to do so, you waited patiently for other members of the case to start draining the room. Soon, only you, Morgan, JJ, Spencer were left collecting the remaining of your things.

As Morgan was grabbing a few of his things with JJ patiently waiting by his side, you walked up to her with a wide smile. "Hey Jayj, wanna change partners?"

"I am right here." Spencer quipped behind you as he shoved a few files into his satchel angrily.

"And I dont care," You shot back before turning back to Morgan, practically ready to get onto your knees and beg him for sympathy. "Please Morgan, trade with me— I'm begging you."

"If you're going to complain about being paired with Reid none of us wanna hear it," Morgan groaned, dragging a hand across his face and pointing an accusitory finger at you. "The two of you have been yapping at eachother faces since we got here."

"We have not!" You both shouted in unison before angrily turning around to face Spencer and warning him. "Stop doing that!"

"It's always something with the two of you," JJ shook her head in disappointment. "You're lucky you two are the smartest members on the team cause we would've had you seperated months ago,"

JJ finished grabbing her things and glared at the two of you. Morgan grabbed his things as well, before turning to you. "Either you sort out all of this sexual tension you've got going on or you keep your mouths shut and get along!"

"What!?" You gaped, taking aback by Morgan's accusations. "Thats not—We dont—"

You fumbled with your words as your cheeks grew hot. You stammered, trying to hit back with something, but inevitably found your mind blank. You huffed, snatching your bag and rushing towards the exit of the conference room "I hate you."

"No you don't princess." Morgan stated as you walked past him and shoved his arm.

"And you boy genius," Morgan said looking at Spencer and tossed her bag across her shoulder. "That goes for you too, either get laid, or shut up."

With that, they left the room leaving a sputtering and angry Spencer struggling to regain his composure after the absurdity that had left his collegues mouth. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and grabbed his final things, leaving the room in a frenzy.

You pulled the car up to the Campus building entrance. You put the car in park as you umblucked your seatbelt, which Spencer started doing not long after you had, following your suit. The ride had been completely silent, none of you wanted to speak to eachother, worrying that if you did another argument would start.

All he did during the ride was read some of the case files while you intently focused on the road. Your hands gripped tightly at the steering wheel and every once and a while you'd sneak small glances at him— not because you cared or anything, you just wanted to see how much more information he was getting ahead of you with.

The building was secluded off to the public and the entrance was swarmed with countless police officers and agents. As you climbed out of the car, you pulled your glasses onto the top of your head and slammed the door in one swift motion. By the time you got to Spencers side of the door, he was still inside slowly collecting his things, which began to make your blood boil. You waited impatiently for him to climb out with a huff.

For what seemed to feel like forever, he finally opened the car door and started to climb out as you waited impatienly. "You look like you're doing this on purpose."

"Getting out of the car? Yeah, I am actually" He stated, finally stepping out. A snide remark came up your throat but wasn't able to leave your mouth given how Spencer towered over you once he strightened himself out. He had also unintentionally stepped way too close to you for your personal preference, leaving most of your boundaries somewhere else.

You craned your head back just slightly, allowing yourself to look into his eyes. Spencer swallowed thickly, suddenly painfully aware of how close the two of you were before an unfamiliar voice reeled the two of you back to reality. "Dr. Y/L/N?"

You practically jumped, swallowing down the urge to yelp. You stepped away from Spencer, feeling your hands nervously shake before clearing your throat. "Uh yes!—“

"Thats, uhm, me—“ You slipped your glasses off and put it into your bag anxiously. "Dr. Y/L/N."

You turned to the Agent in front of you, who held his hand out with a pearly white smile. You were taken aback, expecting someone not as close to your age range as the man in front of you, and definitely not as attractive as him. He had jet black hair and a small stubble growing across his jaw and chin. His face was surprisingly assymetrical and you had to admit he was easy on the eyes.

"I'm Agent Mirthwood, head of the Chicago police department, Aaron Hotchner specified you'd be here to help with the case," You took his hand and shook it. "Wasnt expecting a doll like you."

Spencer didnt miss the way his eyes raked across your body, taking in every part of you with careful detail. You were wearing a silk black button up, along with a blazer that matched the skirt that hugged your skin tightly. Spencer would have to be blind to ignore how every piece of clothing you had on hugged every one of your curves perfectly. The pair of black heels you went with also made your lean legs stand out and look more attractive to the eyes, so obviously, whoever this guy was, he was going to be staring.

How couldnt he?

You laughed nervously and Spencer, despite his profiler background, couldn't tell if it was becasue you were uncomfrotable or because you enjoyed the attention. Either possibilities made his skin crawl.

"Charming," You said, not really wanting to give him any more material to chew at. "So, mind leading the way?"

"Not at all." He grinned at you before placing his hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the crime scene ahead. Spencer followed behind pathetically, feeling his hands clench and his jaw tighten as he watched his hand linger where it didn't belong.

Once inside the building, you and Spencer looked around your surroundings, checking over a few areas of the marked numbers and rerunning the supposed series of events in your heads. "This is where the first victim tried escaping,"

You and Spencer simultaneously looked over to the glass window that had been merely cracked. "Can't believe how a murder took place and the campus director didn't even close the place down for more than five days."

"Agent Mirthwood, you said that the floor above us was where Anya Colins was murdered, correct?" You asked, looking over at a few scratches on the locker. Spencer stood beside you with his hands shoved into his pocket.

"Call me Ben," He shot back quickly. You momentarily looked very at the young man, before turning back to the locker unamused. "But yes, you're correct."

"Could it be possible that we take a look across the flooring, you know, check inside any of the clases for some clues we may have missed?" You said, lifting your chin and facing Agent Mirthwood. He smiled sweetly at you, which you only returned with a false smile of your own.

"Why I'd be delighted to accompany you and help you look out for whatever it is you're looking for—"

"Actually," Spencer butted in, somewhat protectively if you let yourself assume, given how the tone of his voice had grown territorial. "Hotchner specifically implied we stick together as the pair we were assigned, and we usually work best when just the two of our heads are looking around."

You looked up at Spencer, who now stood beside you, with confusion. You tried understanding why Spencer was jumping at the opportunity to now say you two worked as a team, when all you had been doing was fighting. You looked at how his jaw was clenched tightly and how his shoulders broadened ever so slightly. You noticed he had chosen to stand between you and Agent Mirthwood, and suddenly it dawned you and hit you harder than a ton of bricks.

Spencer Reid was jealous.

Despite the sudden dropping in your stomach and the weird feeling nagging at your chest, you couldn't contain how a smile began to appear onto your face since now you had more strategies to get onto Spencers nerves. Should you probably check and try to read into why he's so suddenly protective and jealous over you when he's only stated to dislike you first? Probably. But that proud part of yourself was screaming at you to use the sudden revelation to your advantage.

"Actually Ben," You dodged Spencer, as you made a B-line for the broad man you had only recently met. You put on the best hopeless look you could, the one you always used to get men right into the corner you needed them in. "I'd actually love having your company. I'm gonna need someone watching over me up there."

Spencer froze, looking back and forth as the amusement in this guys eyes only increased and suddenly— he panicked. Spencer was panicking because he genuinely thought you were going to leave with Agent Mirthwood and he wouldn't be able to watch over any of the conversation. Not only that, but since when had you acted so stupid around other men? You usually took pride in making men stupid. Spencer could comprehend what you were trying to get at. That is until you turned your head and sent a challenging glare at Spencer.

"You wouldn't mind, would you Dr. Reid?"

“I—“ His fists tightened as he stared at you, almost as if he was warning you that you were pushing him close to his limits capacities of not lashing out.

“One of the victims was attacked up there and then dragged herself all the way down here,” You watched in fake amusement. You knew what men loved seeing from a woman, so this was extremely entertaining on your part.

“Seriously?” You added an almost feather like gasp to your words. He knew damn well that you knew what this officer was saying was nothing but false due to how the crime scene was framed.

“Yeah,” Ben took a step closer to you and Spencer couldn't even stop himself when he rushed towards you, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you over to the stairwell that lead to the higher floors of the building. "Sorry, bosses order. The rest of you keep looking around to see if anything looks out of place."

Spencer dragged you all the way up the stairs and into the empty hallway. You struggled to keep up, complaining pretty vocally that your heels were screwing up your rhythm, especially in comparison to his long and hurried strides. You finally dug the palm of your foot into the ground and yanked your arm away.

"What the hell is your deal?" You started, knowing you had him cornered. He turned, pushing his lips into a straight line and looking at you in complete silence.

"What the hell is your deal?" He shot back suddenly, shrugging and gesturing towards you. “You barely know the man and you're willing to walk somewhere with him alone..!”

You scoffed. "Oh please, like coming up here with you is any better."

"You don't run the risk of getting potentially murdered by me." He said, trying to make his point.

"You sure about that?"

Spencer looked at you and something shifted behind his eyes. Your face was furrowed with nothing but pure anger as you huffed widely. Spencer opened his mouth and closed it once again, hesitating whether to say what he was about to.

"You're being unprofessional." He blankly stated. Your mouth fell agape. Screw any intention of getting on his nerve with the fact that he had gotten severely jealous because he did not just call you unprofessional again. You felt about ready to murder him. There was adrenaline coursing through every nerve of your body at this point.

“What did you say?” You almost whispered.

“I said you’re being unprofessional.” He stated nonchalantly. You gaped stay him before tightening your fist and resisting the urge to punch the crap out of that smug look.

“That’s because you’re making it hard for me to work with you.”

“You know what?” You said, before taking one quick stride at him and jabbing a finger into his chest. "You have been nothing but a pain in my ass, and all you’ve done with me is complain. You are being so goddamn inssufferab—"

Spencer quickly grabbed your face in between both his hands and slammed his mouth onto yours. Everything froze right then and there as he pulled away quicker than he had leaned in. Your face still remained cupped gently in his hands while your grip was tight on both his wrists as you stared at him, mouth low in shock. A shaky breath left his mouth, and fear was pooling around in his eyes. You could feel your own chest heaving as you looked back and forth between his eyes, still not grasping what had just happened between the two of you. Spencer towered over your small frame, holding you as if you were the most fragile thing in the room. It felt like there was a rope pulling between the two of you and it was right about to snap. His thumb grazed your bottom lip and you could practically hear the chord snap.

All the anger in you drained your body immediately as you caught yourself pulling him onto your mouth with just as much desperation as he had previously done. Your movements were hurried and frantic, as if both of you were scared that at any point this new found standing point would stop disappear and distance would be put between the two of you. The last thing you wanted was for his body to be any farther away from you than it currently was, and not understanding why you suddenly felt that way, angered you even more.

His mouth hungrily moved against you as his grip on your face tightened. Your hands snaked their way into the back of his soft curls and pulled at them roughly, emitting a groan from his mouth onto yours. Out of all the times you'd provoked a groan from Spencer Reid, this had been your all time favorite.

In frantic movements, Spencer pushed you against the nearest wall, hearing a rough thud come from behind you but never once disconnecting your lips from his. He pushed you hard against the wall and pushed his hips against your in one rash movement, causing you to whimper softly against his lips, which only drove his movements to become more frantic.

His hands traveled anywhere and everywhere you'd let them. They ran down your waist and stopped at your hips giving them a rough squeeze which only caused you to squirm once again and pull at his hair ever rougher.

"Tell me to stop and I will," He muttered across your lips.

"Don't—“ You warned, panting desperately for him to grab your body in ways you could have only dreamt about. You needed to feel his hands rake across your body as if he owed it. “Please, don’t”

Spencer’s heart shuddered as he could visibly hear your hatred filled person begin to crumble. How you were practically begging for this just as much as he had been. How you melted under his touch so effortlessly.

Before Spencer could move any further, a voice cut the two of you off. “Hey guys!”

You pushed Spencer off yourself with a little more urgency than you had initially intended. You ran your hands through your hair frantically and pushed your skirt down, which had accidentally— not so accidentally— been pushed up slightly. Spencer on the other hand, settled with a simple, subtle gesture of grazing the corner of his lip to remove some of the nude pink lipstick that had smudge a bit onto his face.

He cleared his voice before turning to whoever had called out, but before he could say anything you quickly jumped. “Morgan? JJ? What are you doing here?”

Spencer could almost allow himself to smile at the sound of the quiver in your voice and how your body was still distraught by the adrenaline.

Morgan eyed the two of you and it didn’t take any time at all for him to realize what had happened. The shuffled hair, the puffy lips along with all the wrinkled clothes. Not to mention how both of your chests heaved heavily.

“We have an advance on the case but it seems like you two are busy with something…” JJ stated,

looking at Morgan from the side of his eye.

“Or someone,” He added. You tried to find some sort of defense in your favor but came up to none. You didn’t want to even look Spencer in the eye, so you quickly turned and headed for the staircase, when you approached Morgan, he whistled lowly.

“Someone got a piece of genius boy and enjoyed it—“ As you passed him you smacked the back of his head.

“Hey!” He groaned, looking back at you as you strutted down the stairs, barely being able to keep your balance steady.

i am planing on doing a spicy part two😝

492 notes · View notes

thrillridesz · 3 years

Text

all i want for christmas | eric

in part of the deobi secret santa project and dedicated as a gift to @channiewoo ✨ ( i hope you like it >< i tried my best! )

➳ pairing: college student!eric x reader ( ft juyeon, kevin, chanhee and sangyeon with jacob mentions! )

➳ genre: fluff, fantasy, time travel!au, time loop!au, christmas!au, university!au, love triangle!au ( ish? )

➳ warnings: n/a (PG13)

➳ word count: 4.6k

➳ inspo: lotus inn by why don’t we

➳ fic playlist: all i want for christmas - big time rush ft miranda cosgrove | lotus inn - why don’t we | christmassy! - the boyz | you belong with me - taylor swift | crush - david archuleta

a/n : this is my christmas secret santa gift to eri @channiewoo ^^ also hi, i’m your theb secret santa! thank you for being such a sweet person to talk to throughout this month and honestly you really made my first secret santa here on tumblr pretty memorable! i know we’ve just exchanged a few asks here and there but i genuinely did like talking to you though im not the most frequent secret santa anon out there >< i sincerely hope you can forgive me for that. but anyways, i hope you like your gift!!

+ also unedited for now because i really wanted to post this on christmas day... and tags are still not working but i don’t want to delay this any longer

The Christmas spirit could be felt in all corners of the house that night as the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies and crackling log fire from the fireplace wafted in the air while party guests swayed to the upbeat Christmas music playing on the stereo and chatted merrily amongst themselves. Outside, fine white snow was falling and against the black canvas of the night sky, it made the streets seem almost serene and even beautiful. Looking out, one could easily feel the Christmas mood as neighbours held their own christmas parties and family gatherings. Everywhere they looked, they would see beautifully decorated houses adorned with Christmas wreaths and intricate fairy lights. Sometimes, one would even see the occasional snowmans displayed out in the neighbours’ yards, covered in scarves and hats with the ever familiar carrot nose. From a distance a few doors down, one could also hear singing - a telltale sign of the local group of Christmas carolers making their rounds in the neighbourhood like they did every year.

This was what Christmas is all about - enjoying good food with loved ones, receiving amazing gifts, going door to door caroling and feeling at home with the people you appreciate and cherish while the winter snow falls outside. Yet, Eric felt anything but. In fact, his heart was pounding against his chest as he sipped nervously at his mug of hot apple cider. Around him, the party guests were mingling and laughing at the college Christmas party as they shared funny stories from the year they had, feeling particularly merry. Normally, it would have been easy for him to get in the mood but not this time.

“I don’t get what you’re so nervous about.” Kevin said, shaking his head. “Why can’t you just talk to her?”

“I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. What if I mess up?” He replied despondently, his eyes softening as he glanced at you from across the room.

There you were - decked out in a cute Christmas outfit just standing by the fireplace, your hair falling around your face and framing it, looking more beautiful than he had remembered. The smile on your face made his heart flutter ever so slightly and he could feel his face grow warmer despite having a huge mug of apple cider just in front of him. The santa hat you wore added just that little touch of sweetness and adorableness to you and Eric couldn’t help but feel his heart start to pound in his chest. If you weren’t already stunning to him, you were breathtakingly beautiful to him now. Every little smile or shy glance made his heart beat just a little faster and he reached up to clutch softly as his chest.

“It’s better than not trying at all, Eric.” Kevin pointed out, taking a bite out of his gingerbread cookie. “You ought to have a little bit more faith in yourself.”

Eric sighed in resignation. “It’s so much easier talking about it than actually doing it. Everytime I think about doing it, I chicken out. I just can’t seem to stop fearing about possibly screwing it up, Kev.”

Kevin regarded him with a sympathetic look before patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. “I understand. Look man, if you don’t feel ready then you don’t have to force yourself to talk to her.”

“I promised myself that today would be the day.”

“Yeah, I know you did but still, you don’t have to force yourself. Your face is turning pale from the anxiety.” The latter said, concerned.

“It is?” Eric asked, alarmed as he quickly turned to the window beside him, checking out his reflection. He narrowed his eyes as he reached up to ruffle his hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat better though all it did was make it seem more tousled.

Kevin watched him, chuckling softly. Men in love are truly a different breed.

“Hey, Kev! I nearly forgot, do you want to listen to my newly curated Christmas playlist? I’ve been meaning to ask but I couldn’t find you.” Sangyeon suddenly appeared from behind the duo, with a joyous grin on his face. Kevin gave Eric a questioning look which he waved away.

“I’ll be fine.” He smiled.

“Alright… If you need anything, just call me!” Kevin said, casting him a last fleeting glance as he walked away with Sangyeon.

Holding the mug of hot apple cider close to his chest, Eric leaned against the cold glass panel of the window, staring out listlessly despite the steady pounding of his heart. He shot a furtive glance in your direction and quickly looked away, his cheeks reddening. At this rate, it would not be long before he turned as red as Rudolph’s nose.

“Get a grip, Eric. Why are you being such a wimp?” He chided himself. Looking around, Eric couldn’t help but observe his surroundings wistfully.

Everyone was seemingly in their element - snacking on Christmas snacks, dancing and just having fun. By the boombox, he watched as Hyunjae engaged in conversation with a girl who he did not recognise. The way they were laughing and the way she so flirtatiously slapped him on the shoulder, giggling at something Hyunjae said made Eric feel so deeply envious. Even from where he was, the smitten look on her face was undeniable and he wondered why he couldn’t have been more of a ladies’ man like Hyunjae was. Things would have been so much easier for him. Why is it that whenever it came to you he was suddenly the most awkward person to grace the face of this earth? It just didn’t make sense to him.

Sighing, he took another sip of his hot apple cider, feeling the liquid burn at the back of his throat. Suddenly, he frowned, his eyes narrowing. Who was that?

He had one of the most attractive faces Eric had ever seen - with soft, fine dark hair, a strong build and a warm smile that simply lit up the room. There he was, talking to you and you sliding your hand over his shoulder, not in a seductive or flirtatious way but in a friendly way though it was still enough to spark jealousy in Eric’s heart. He watched intently as you leaned in to whisper something in his year, his smile growing wider at your words.

Eric longed to know what the two of you were talking about, his grip on his mug growing tighter and firmer.

“Lost your chance, buddy.”

Swivelling around, Eric nearly spilled his apple cider as he turned to face a pink haired boy with an upturned nose. He didn’t remember seeing him around but there was something odd about him that Eric couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not to mention, that statement really did rub him off the wrong way.

“Excuse me?” His tone was slightly icy as he furrowed his brows together, frowning at the stranger in front of him.

“Didn’t you want to talk to her?” The boy asked, taking a swig of his hot chocolate, seemingly not noticing the confused look Eric was shooting him.

“Do I know you?”

“Oh right! I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. How rude of me… I’m Chanhee but you can call me New. Everyone does,” he smiled warmly, “you’re Eric?”

Eric narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Yes? How do you know my name?”

“I just do. I know everyone,” He waved away his question nonchalantly, “I see you have a Christmas sweetheart.”

He tipped his mug in your direction and Eric felt his face grow hotter, annoyance setting in at the same time.

“How is that any of your business?” He snapped, his tone indignant and confrontational.

“I am here to help so watch your tone around me.” New rolled his eyes, looking at him in disdain though there was a twinkle in his eyes as he continued, “I can help you get the girl.”

Eric cast you a sideway glance before turning back to New with a skeptical expression. Whoever this guy was, he was weird, odd. Yet, the proposal he had proposed was a tempting one and despite himself, he felt inclined to listen. Watching you from afar, Eric’s heart sank just a little deeper as the guy you were talking to suddenly reached up to brush your hair away from your face, the both of you looking into each other’s eyes as he did. The irritation and jealousy he felt came back stronger than ever and before he knew it, the words were out of his mouth before he even knew it.

“How can you help?”

At his words, New grinned, drawing a small crystal vial from his pocket. The vial was filled with a mysterious sparkly, glowy pink liquid and smelled distinctively of roasted chestnuts though Eric was almost a thousand percent sure the liquid was not made of any kind of roasted chestnuts in any shape or form. As New popped open the cap, the scent grew even stronger and Eric shot him an alarmed look.

“What is that? A drug?!” Looking around frantically, it felt like nobody was paying the two of them any attention, being too preoccupied with their own conversations. How is nobody noticing this?

“Calm down and don’t get your panties in a twist.” New scoffed, “It’s a time travel potion. Or a time loop potion if you will.”

This guy is actually crazy. Eric almost wanted to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all but barely managed to suppress it.

“Okay…?”

“Yup, I made it myself. Took me like half a year to brew it to perfection but it should work now. I followed each step really closely so there should be no problems.”

“Yeah, sure man. Thanks for wasting my time. If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving. Thanks for the false hope.” Eric grumbled, taking his leave and not even bothering to consider the chagrined look on New’s face. Mayhaps Christmas is not his time either. He wondered how long this would drag on. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, he chickened out and said ‘next time’. When Halloween rolled around, he chickened out yet again and promised to make a move by Thanksgiving yet when Thanksgiving rolled around, he settled for Christmas. Now…

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be. Maybe I’m just too much of a coward.” He whispered to himself, pushing his way through the crowd of people. As he took yet another sip of his hot apple cider, he couldn’t help but keep his eye on you. The way you were now looping your arms over the guy’s neck and the way he had his large hands on your waist made Eric want to leave the party. If only he had a little bit more faith…

“What time is it anyways?” He murmured to himself, wanting more than anything to leave.

9:04pm. Damn. It wouldn’t be until two hours later for the party to end. Sure, he could always leave early but he would hate to be seen as disrespectful to everyone else especially Jacob, the host of this lovely party.

He stared at the mug of hot apple cider he had in his hand, scrunching up his nose at the taste of it.

Was it just him or did it taste slightly… Off?

Eric gazed at it for a moment before he shook his head. I’m overthinking everything, he thought. However as he stood over the snack table, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head. It was like having someone slap him at his head before his vision turned blurry. His limbs were beginning to go soft and his mouth dry. What was happening? He blinked rapidly but to no avail. It felt like he was falling in a deep pit…

When he opened his eyes again, everything felt fine. Patting himself lightly on the face, he looked around his surroundings in confusion. Just what was that? Did he imagine all of that? The mug of hot apple cider was still in his hands and the reindeer horns band was still on his head. He was wearing the same clothes and everything had become clear, there were no more blurry visions. The pounding in his head had stopped and it felt like whatever happened earlier was merely a figment of his own imagination.

“Eric…? Eric!”

The voice shook him from his stupor and with a start, he lifted his head to see Kevin regarding him with a questioning look on his face.

“You okay? You zoned out for a minute and I mean, really zoned out.”

“Y-Yeah… Aren’t you supposed to go listen to Sangyeon’s playlist or something?”

Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“What playlist?”

Eric frowned. “Didn’t Sangyeon ask you to listen to his Christmas playlist?”

“Um… No? Even if he has one, he hasn’t asked me yet.”

Eric looked at Kevin with confusion in his eyes. What was going on? Last he remembered, that was exactly what happened. Swivelling around, the confusion got even stronger when he saw you standing all alone at the other corner of the house. Were you not with that guy?

Instantly, he remembered what New had said. “Time travel potion…” He mumbled under his breath, his eyes widening when the realisation dawned upon. No way…

Whipping out his phone, it felt like his heart was about to pound right out of his chest when he saw the time. His throat felt dry and tight as he stared, unable to believe his eyes.

8:46pm.

Eric suddenly recalled the weird taste he had gotten in his cider and instinctively, his hand reached up to cover his mouth. There was no other explanation for this other than the fact that one, that New or was it Kyu guy had not been lying when he spoke of a time travel potion and two, he had slipped him the potion on purpose when he wasn’t looking. He could feel the anger bubble up within him - the nerve of that guy! With pure, unadulterated fury in his eyes, his gaze swept across the room, looking for him. Kevin looked on, thoroughly puzzled.

“...Eric? Are you okay? You’ve got a weird look on your face.” He asked, concerned. “Eric?”

All anger had just dissipated from his being as his sights finally landed on you. There you were, standing all alone at the fireplace with a drink in your hand while your friend danced. The look on your face was one of loneliness and even from a mile away, anyone could tell you looked extremely awkward at having been left alone while she swayed up against Haknyeon, a guy he recognised from his Medieval History module.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the same dark haired guy he had seen approach you ‘earlier’. Following his gaze, Eric could feel his stomach drop as he realised that they were on you. From his body language, it was clear that he was about to make his way over and take his chances with you.

Just then, a voice at the back of his mind whispered softly.

“What are you waiting for?”

Taking a deep breath, Eric squared his shoulders and hurriedly straightened the jacket he was wearing. This is it. This is actually it. He was going to do it. His legs were moving now, one step after another in large strides towards you. The sound of his heart pounding was practically deafening to his ears and he could feel his legs turning into lead, each footstep heavier than the next. Squeezing past the crowd, another voice - this time insistent and panicky - suddenly cried out.

“No, don’t do this! What if you embarrass yourself and make yourself out to be a fool?”

Eric’s face paled. No, this is a mistake. What was he doing?

“Hello?”

Shaking out of his thoughts, Eric almost jumped back in shock at the sight of you just right in front of him. Before he even realised it, he had made his way over. It is now too late to back out. Had he been standing there like an idiot this whole time?

“I-I… Hey!” He squeaked out, his heart almost leaping out of his chest.

“You’re Eric right? Eric Sohn from Professor Kim’s introduction to accounting class?” You asked kindly.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the guy from ‘earlier’ approaching, pushing past the crowd and judging from his demeanour… It seemed like the competition was still in the game.

He needed to pull this off.

“Yeah, I am. Y/n right? It’s a pretty cool party, isn’t it?”

“Mhm! Pretty great so far! My friend is over there dancing but I’m not much of a party dancer so here I am,” you smiled and Eric almost forgot what he was about to say.

“I-”

“Hey, how are you guys enjoying the party?”

Eric looked up and his brows furrowed into an annoyed and anxious ‘v’. The dark haired competition merely grinned back at him though there was a certain glint in his eyes which made Eric clench his jaw tightly. It was the sort of gaze that was long enough to send a goading message - game on.

He smiled and extended a hand towards you, completely ignoring Eric. “I’m Juyeon, roommate of Jacob’s. I saw you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

You shook his hand, oblivious to the tension between the two guys. “I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

Juyeon briefly lifted his gaze to Eric and without anyone’s notice but his, he winked slyly.

“Revolting.” Eric thought angrily.

“I heard they have some really cool peppermint treats at the candy table, wanna come?” Juyeon asked and quickly Eric said, “I heard they have a great log cake at the snack bar though. I’ve heard people raving about it!”

You looked at the both of them, seemingly a little disconcerted. “Uh… I…” Juyeon shot Eric a scathing look which he returned with a smug smile.

“Who doesn’t love a good old log cake?” He asked, to which Juyeon rolled his eyes at.

“I mean… I do love peppermint…” You trailed off and Eric turned to you with wide eyes as big as saucers and Juyeon’s lips lifted into a smug smile.

“Excellent choice! I hear they have so many varieties…” Juyeon chattered on, placing his arm over your shoulder, leaving poor Eric speechless and red faced, watching helplessly as the two of you walked away from him. Turning behind you, you had an apologetic look on your face but said nothing.

“That’s too bad. I was rooting for you, you know?”

Eric swivelled around to find New standing behind him yet again, this time chewing on a piece of toffee. The time on his watch was clear as day as the red, glowing digits stared right back at him - 9:04pm. It had come full circle. He had the chance to turn things around but he had failed. Somehow, the nonchalant look in New’s face irritated him but he tried to remain calm. His gaze drifted down to the bulge in the man’s jacket pocket, tracing the faint outline of the tiny vial that contained the potion from earlier.

“At least we know now that I’m legit, right?” He winked at Eric, smirking as he did though it dropped when he saw the look on the latter’s face.

“Why are you-”

“Please, give me one more chance. Please just let me turn back time this one more time.” He pleaded. Eric was not one to plead but this time, he was feeling particularly desperate.

New looked at him like he had just sprouted an extra head before he burst out laughing.

“How’s that for a turn of the tables, Mr ‘thank you for wasting my time’?” He asked, still giggling. Clearly, he was taking much joy in this new dynamic - something Eric didn’t look too pleased about though he was not about to act on it. After all, it was New’s potion that allowed him this one more chance which he had quite unspectacularly let slip from his grasp.

“Alright, I suppose I could let you try this one more time though I’ll definitely be charging for your next usage.” New sighed, whipping out the vial. “I did want you to succeed after all.”

As Eric gulped down his drink, the familiar feeling of dizziness washed over him yet again, along with the looseness in his limbs and before he knew it, he found himself standing right where he was with you standing where you were previously.

This time, Eric squared his shoulders and ran a hand nervously through his hair. There you were yet again, standing by the fireplace with that drink in your hand.

“No hesitation this time,” he whispered to himself before he made his way over. He barely even paid attention to Juyeon coming in from the side as he struck up a conversation.

“Hey, y/n from professor Kim’s introduction to accounting right?”

You turned to him, looking a little surprised before you smiled warmly at him.

“Yeah! Eric, is it? It’s nice to see you here.”

“How’s things going so far at the party?” He asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. His nervousness was getting to him quickly but the thought of messing up yet again reined him back in and his smile stayed on.

You wrinkled your nose as if considering his question before you replied, “Well, it’s going alright so far. I’m not really a party sort of person but I thought I’d make an exception since you know, Jacob’s my friend.”

“I see! I don’t usually mind parties but I do like…” He paused as he saw Juyeon approaching, the gears in his head whirring away and you looked at him curiously.

“Eric…?”

“How about we go get some peppermint? I hear they have a variety here.” He suggested quickly, his eyes darting towards Juyeon’s direction.

You stared at him, looking a little perturbed but then grinned and nodded. “Sure, I love peppermints.”

Before Juyeon could even make his way over, the two of you had walked away, squeezing past the dancing crowd. The bass beat of the music was so resounding throughout the house that it almost seemed as if the walls were vibrating as well. The glitter and lights all around all looked stunning but perhaps a little too stunning as Eric made his way through the crowd with you just right by him. From all sides, people were accidentally bumping into each other and more than once, he almost lost his balance.

As the two of you neared the candy table, Eric realised too late that perhaps pushing past the crowd had been a bad idea and that a smarter way would be to stay out of the dance floor when he felt himself fall forward. Someone’s foot had been there and without looking, he had tripped over and landed with a huge thud on the floor, flat on his belly. His chin collided with the ground and if he had hit it just a little harder, had the impact been just a tad stronger, he might have suffered a serious injury.

Since you were just trailing behind him, his unexpected fall had sent you falling as well. As the both of you crashed against the ground, some members of the crowd audibly gasped as people shuffled out of the way. Though it may have hurt when he fell, Eric’s heart ached much more than the bruise he would no doubt sport on his knees tomorrow. Seeing you sprawled next to him and knowing all of this happened only because of him, he wanted nothing more than to dig a hole right there and then and leap right in.

A few partygoers reached out to help him up and right next to him, Juyeon appeared in front of you, extending a hand with a look of concern. Eric watched as the two of you looked into each other’s eyes and like in a fairytale princess bedtime story, you reached out tentatively to hold onto Juyeon’s hand as his heart fell to the ground with a messy splat.

“Y/n-”

“Are you guys okay?” Juyeon asked though it seemed as if he was only asking you in general.

“Yeah, we’re alright. Thank you.” You said softly, still seemingly a little frazzled.

“Come, let us go get you seated somewhere.”

Eric couldn’t help but simply stand there and look helplessly as the both of you wandered away, his heart feeling like it was about to shatter into pieces. A second chance he was given and he screwed it up and if that wasn’t enough, he was offered yet another shot which went worse than his first. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe no matter how many times he tried, tonight was just not the night. Or perhaps nothing was ever destined to happen between you two. The jolly christmas music was still playing but he no longer was in the Christmassy spirit anymore.

All he wanted for Christmas was you but it seemed that that didn’t seem so possible anymore, if not impossible.

As the partygoers resumed their dancing, all he could do was plop himself down on the nearby couch and do nothing except nurse not just his fallen pride but also his feelings which never had the chance to express themselves before it got completely shut down.

Grabbing a bottle of ginger ale from a nearby pack, he took a swig and felt the ale burn as it ran down his throat. Usually, he would have loved it but tonight, it just left a bitter taste in his mouth. Keeping his head down, Eric exhaled deeply. He ought to just give up completely.

“Hey, Eric.”

At the sound of your voice, his head snapped up and he gazed up at you with wide eyes. There you were, standing before him and looking down at him as he wallowed in his own feelings. How long have you been standing there? Why were you here?

“Y-y/n?”

You gave him a bashful glance as you sat yourself next to him. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I… I… “ He simply stared at you, his mouth gaping like a fish and looking absolutely flummoxed. “Didn’t Juyeon-”

“I couldn’t possibly leave you alone.” You hurried to say and when he didn’t reply, you continued. “Do you… Do you mind if I sit here with you?”

It took Eric a second for it to register in his mind what you had just asked of him before he grew flustered just as the joy in him began to spark.

“Do I mind? No! Of course not! You’re welcomed here! Please, sit with me!”

As he chattered on nervously, you couldn’t help but admire the way his eyes would light up whenever he talked and how charming his smile was. He was in the habit of moving his hands around a lot which though some might find annoying, you only found to be endearing. You could feel your heart beating quickly which always happened whenever you were near him, saw him around class or even just at the mere mention of his name.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself clench on tightly to the couch, the excitement in you simply immeasurable. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt the weight of the vial in your pocket. A worthy bargain indeed from the mysterious pink haired boy.

This was all you wanted for Christmas.

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scxrlettwxtches · 4 years

Text

a marriage story pt. 2 | lee minho

Genre: fluff, angst, (to be totally honest I don’t even know what this is)

Warnings: some suggestive bits, swearing

Word Count: ~4.6k

Description: You were now truly the wife of Lee Minho, your best friend, your confidante, your number one bitch, but now you had to navigate through something much more challenging: becoming the heiress to Korea’s biggest tech company.

A/N: i’m back!!!! im so so sorry that i’ve been away for so long. the virus and with final exams, i just couldn’t bring myself to write at all. im still slowly coming out of my writing slump, and this fic really doesn’t meet my standards, so i feel really guilty putting this out. however, i’d feel even more guilty not putting this out at all, especially since so many people have been waiting! i really hope people enjoy this, and please look forward to my upcoming fics as well! <3 as always, my ask box is always open if anyone ever wants to be friends :) stay safe, love y’all!

It was always the same boring jargon.

You could never understand your husband’s fascination with business, but you did know one thing for certain. He was damn good at it. As you sat by his side, listening to his managers report their latest updates, you could afford to tune them out. But from the corner of your eye, you watched Minho listen to every word, catch every little mistake, leaning forward on the desk to express his utmost interest.

That must be the hardest part of running a business, you decided. You couldn’t imagine listening to old men drone on and on for 7 hours a day, and once again you wondered why Minho had dragged you to another one of his boring-ass company meetings for the second time that week.

You could feel your eyes growing heavier and heavier as you struggled to look attentive. Almost everything was beginning to blend together; all the business rhetoric was flying over your head and you wanted nothing more than to go home.

Just as you were genuinely about to doze off, you felt a gentle, reassuring hand on your thigh. Sparing a glance to your left, Minho’s expression had not changed one bit, still listening to the presentation, but you could tell he was giving you some attention. Briefly, you wondered if he’d been keeping track of your mood since the meeting had begun.

After an eternity, the meeting adjourned and everyone filed out of the room to continue their work in their personal cubicles. Minho and you were the last to leave, and you went around the room fixing chairs and making sure the room was ready for its next use.

“You know you don’t need to do that, right?” Minho asked amusedly, but he helped you without complaint, pushing the projector back to the corner of the room.

“I can’t help it,” you shrugged, “Doesn’t it bother you when you leave the room and everything’s a mess?”

“I’m not going to listen to a word you say until you clean up the junkyard that is your work room.”

“That’s different,” you snapped with no bite in your voice, “That’s called organized clutter.”

“No, it’s just clutter.”

“You’re the worst.”

Minho laughed, finishing up with his side of the room and coming over to you. The meeting room had no windows to the rest of the building, and no one could see you, but it was still embarrassing when he leaned against the table beside you, tugging the hem of your shirt to pull you closer.

“You know you can say things during the meeting, right?” he murmured, looking at you intently, “I don’t ask you to come just to doze off.”

“Talk, in front of those business sharks?” you laughed, “I’m not nearly qualified enough.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Minho retorted firmly, “And they’ll respect what you have to say.”

“How do you know that?”

“If they don’t...” Minho trailed off, a hungry gleam emerging in his eyes, making him look twice as handsome as usual, “I’ll make them regret it.”

“Oh, how terrifying, Mr. Lee!” you swooned dramatically, giving his tie a sharp tug so you could plant a chaste kiss on his lips, “Managing your business with an iron fist.”

Minho gave your shirt a harsher tug, feeling cheated that the kiss had been so torturously brief. With an arm around your waist, he smirked, “Well, they know how whipped I am for you, darling.”

And if the two of you didn’t come out of that conference room for another half hour, it wasn’t anyone’s business.

ii.

Being married to the heir of one of the most promising tech companies came with a lot of obligations, one of the biggest being constant attendance at a plethora of sponsor parties and business events. As an introvert who’d rather stay at home and draw than go out with friends, parties weren’t exactly your thing, but you didn't hate them as much as you had originally thought you would. There were always interesting people present, and there’s always something to gravitate to.

Tonight, you and Minho were heading to an event to honor one of the company’s most generous donors. It was going to be held at a large convention center, and you knew both Minho and the company had spared no expense when it came to funding this party.

“We have to get going in five!” you called from the bathroom, completing the finishing touches to your makeup. Dressed in a Zuhair Murad Eugenia gown, the long shoulder straps of chiffon billowed down gracefully on your bare back, and the corset-like bodice covered in rhinestones accentuated your figure. You had tied up your hair in a loose, elegant bun to match the style of your dress, and your makeup was simple.

You could hear the rustling of clothes from your bedroom as your husband grumbled, “Why do I always take longer than you to get ready?”

“Because you’re far more of a peacock than I could ever dream to be,” you answered breezily, pushing one more bobby pin in your hair to keep it steady.

“Oh, very funny,” the sarcasm oozed out of Minho’s voice as he walked towards the bathroom, stopping short as he took in your appearance in the mirror. You continued to fix your hair, a bobby pin in your mouth as you smoothed out the bumps, and you let out a surprised noise when you felt Minho press up behind you, his hands now roaming all over your body.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispered in your ear, tilting his head to kiss your neck. You couldn’t help but lean against him in desire, giving him a better angle to leave a trail of kisses, but before things could escalate, you spun around, taking his hands in yours to pull them off your body.

“None of that today,” you spoke firmly, putting his hands back to his side.

Minho still had that hungry gleam in his eyes as he asked with mild offense, “Why not?”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” you gave him a pointed look in the mirror, “we’re going to be late.”

Your husband let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair, but he backed off, understanding your point. Placing one last bobby pin, you grabbed the jar of hair gel and began slicking Minho’s hair back with practiced ease.

“We’ll finish up later, okay?” you attempted to placate him gently. Minho smirked, wiggling his eyes suggestively at you in the mirror, and seeing the crafty look on his face, you let out a dramatic roll of your eyes.

Finishing up your styling of his hair, Minho pressed a quick kiss on your lips, his tongue sweeping your bottom lip before he spoke.

“I’ll look forward to it, then.”

iii.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lee! Over here!” A chorus of voices shouted over one another as you walked into the convention center, your arm securely wrapped around Minho’s. The flashing lights blinded you, but you maintained a professional expression, acknowledging as many photographers as possible.

The long segment of pictures continued (the two of you were the stars, after all), and as you slowly made your way into the building, your eyes caught sight of a familiar face exiting the car that had just arrived.

Feeling you tug at his jacket sleeve discreetly, Minho bent down slightly so your lips were near his ear as you muttered, “Your parents are here.”

“Hah?” Minho glanced at where you were looking, his expression dark, “I didn’t invite them.”

“They still officially own the company,” you sighed, “They can show up whenever they want to, with or without your invitation.”

“They’re going to make some sort of scene, I just know it,” your husband growled under his breath, before giving you a tense smile, “Let’s head inside before we have to interact with them in front of all these goddamn cameras.”

You certainly agreed with that statement, and the two of you ducked into the entrance without so much of a glance back. It had been a while since you’d spoken to the Lee’s, and by speaking you meant them furiously yelling at you about how you had corrupted their son, and you just sitting there, not sure whether you should laugh or cry. When Minho had happened to come home early from work that very day to find his parents insulting every ounce of your existence, he was beyond furious.

“You do not, under any circumstance, get to waltz into my house and insult my wife like she is some piece of dirt that you walk over,” he had snarled, looking angrier than you’d ever seen him, “Don’t ever think of inviting yourself over unless you have something nice to say about our relationship, or I will find a way to legally keep you from coming to this house.”

Long story short, the last interaction was far from pretty.

The decorations for the party were immaculate, with purple mood lighting illuminating the large hall and white satin cloth that draped the walls. It was all very beautiful, if you had to say so yourself, especially because you had suggested many of the features that were present. Minho had always deferred to your judgement with all things artistic, and even though you weren’t confident enough to share your ideas in the office, you were perfectly comfortable telling your husband what you thought of his plans.

“Damn, looks like Hyunjin came,” Minho waved his hand at a familiar figure, who walked over looking very dashing in his expensive black suit and his hand in his pockets.

“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple,” Hyunjin smirked, giving a slight bow as you rolled your eyes, “Love the venue, by the way. Definitely not Minho’s work, since he’s got the artistic talent of a slug.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” You agreed solemnly, while Minho glared at the both of you with a sort of tired resignation.

Behind you, the noises grew louder as Minho’s parents walked into the building, their faces smug as they greeted everyone with wide smiles, happy to be received well by their old employees.

Minho let out a scoff, “Look at them,” he said, his temper already flaring again, but you gently ran your hand along his back.

“Let them have their fun,” you chastised him under your breath, “You don’t want to look ungrateful in front of all your guests.”

Your husband looked like he didn’t quite care what the paparazzi thought, but he relaxed slightly, and you gave him a small smile, “I’m going to grab drinks for us, and you’re going to go find Mr. Kim standing over there and thank him for his generous donations, alright? Hyunjin, do you want anything?”

Hyunjin put his hands out and waved quickly, “No thanks. I’m gonna go find Felix.”

“Lix is here?” Minho looked around, his eyes brightening.

“Yeah, but do what your wife said first,” Hyunjin tilted his head towards Mr. Kim with a sly smile.

Minho rolled his eyes, grumbling, “I swear you guys are just ganging up on me,” but he did as you asked, leaving with a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You shared a knowing look with Hyunjin before walking to the bar, pulling out your credit card from your clutch as you made your way to the counter, ordering two cocktails. As you leaned against the table, waiting patiently, a deep voice interrupted your gentle daydreams.

“Good evening. Mrs. Lee, I presume?”

It was still an unfamiliar way of address to you, but you whipped around as smoothly as possible, trying your best to look unflappable. Standing in front of you was a handsome, black-haired man, no doubt coming from one of the wealthy families that Minho had invited.

“Hello,” you smiled, before asking politely, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I know—“

“Park Seonghwa,” he interrupted you curtly, “The Park’s and the Lee’s are old family friends. I’m surprised you don’t know who I am, since you are—unfortunately—a Lee as well.”

Okay, so he was that type of asshole. Your smile faltered as your brain repeated a constant mantra.

Don’t screw up. Don’t screw this up for Minho. Smile, deflect, leave.

You put on a tentatively polite smile as you spoke, “I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong to upset you, but—”

“Don’t patronize me,” Seonghwa’s eyes flared, although his tone still decidedly curt, “You—a high school dropout, a nobody—shouldn’t even dare to walk beside the likes of Lee Minho, much less marry him.”

Your blood boiled, and you wanted nothing more than to sock this asshole in the face. You gripped your clutch tightly, clenching your jaw as the bartender came back with your two drinks.

Seonghwa paused, looking at you up and down before smiling with mock pity, “Dressing up doesn’t suit you, Y/N. Maybe you should crawl back to the gutters where you belong and stop pretending to be something you’re not.”

At that moment, something in you snapped, and you no longer cared about your carefully crafted personality. Fuck that. Fuck the press. Fuck every careful step you’ve taken to maintain your reputation.

“Park Seonghwa,” When you spoke again, your voice was colder than ice. Even Seonghwa could feel it, as surprise flashed in his eyes.

“Once again, I apologize for anything that I have done to upset you. However,” Your voice held an undercurrent of a growl as you took a step towards him, very subtly intruding in his personal space, “that does not give you the right to insult my character.”

“Y/N—“

“It’s Mrs. Lee to you,” you interrupted him harshly, “Rather pathetic, waiting for a moment that I’m alone to speak to me in this manner. Tell me, if Minho were standing beside me, would you say everything that you just said right now?”

Seonghwa’s eyes went wide, as his cold, sultry voice grew nervous, “I-I—“

“Let me answer that for you, Mr. Park. You wouldn’t,” you snarled, letting the words sink in before smiling coldly, “Your company is an extension of Minho’s, am I right? What do you think will happen if I told him that you were an egocentric asshole who believes himself superior to others because of something as trivial as birth? Do you think you’ll be part of this elite circle that you hold so dear after he is through with you?”

Seonghwa was utterly speechless, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as you grab the two glasses from the table, turning away from him with an expression of utter disdain.

“I hope you spend some time to correct your mentality before you end up verbally assaulting someone who has less patience than me.”

You stalked away with your head held high and your anger still simmering under the surface as you walked over to Minho, who was conversing with Mr. Kim. The intense urge to hurl something at the wall waned slightly, and you couldn’t help but smile at your husband.

“Darling,” you purred sweetly as handing him his drink, snaking an arm around his waist in a gesture of comfort, but also a gesture of seeking his attention.

Your husband, your wonderful, perfect husband, could tell immediately from the sound of your voice and your actions that something had happened. In an act of courtesy, you introduce yourself to Mr. Kim, who treated you with far more grace and politeness than the person you’d just interacted with. Minho, holding your waist tightly, excused himself from Mr. Kim’s presence before pulling you to a less crowded corner.

“What’s happened? Are you alright?” He asked, the worry apparent in his features as he ran his hands up and down your side comfortingly. The act alone already soothed your earlier anger.

Shaking your head, you gently tapped his forehead with your knuckles, “Don’t make that expression. You’ll get wrinkles,” you chastised him teasingly.

Minho’s grip on your waist tightened, “You didn’t answer the question,” he pointed out.

You sighed tiredly, “It’s the usual. Some assholes think that I don’t deserve you.”

The reaction was immediate, his eyes darkening with cold, contained fury as he clenched his jaw, “Who?” He growled, already looking around the room as if he could sense who would dare insult his wife.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said breezily, putting your hand on his arm in an attempt to appease his anger, “He already regrets it.”

Minho froze, his angry frown molding into a cocky smirk, “You scared him, didn’t you?”

You winced, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I tried to stay cordial, but I got angry and—fuck, I think I ruined things for you—“

“Hey—hey, look at me, darling,” The anger in Minho’s voice had dissipated, leaving only gentle concern as his hands cup your cheeks delicately, his thumb brushing your face as you looked up at him.

“You didn’t ruin anything, okay? You had every right to be angry and I’m so, so proud of you for standing up for yourself,” Minho’s voice didn’t hold a shred of anger, only a firmness as he looked you in the eye.

“But, the press—“

“The press won’t write anything, and if they do, I’ll shut it down the moment it appears,” Minho said soothingly as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You did so well, and I love you so much.”

A quiet, relieved sob choked out of your lips and Minho sighed, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead, “I’m sorry, baby. I always hate putting you in situations like this.”

You leaned into his touch, gently holding his hand, “It’s alright, I knew what I signed up for,” you said, smiling reassuringly, “Besides, I know you’d destroy them if you ever saw it happen. If anything, I’m more worried about their lives.”

Your words had the intended effect, calming Minho’s anger, “Is that why you never give me names?” He asked with an almost resigned voice; he’d never understand your commitment to protecting people who didn’t deserve a moment of your attention.

“I just don’t want to cause you trouble,” you answered with a smile, but instead of smiling back, Minho looked stricken, like a sudden thought had come into his head, something he’d never realized before.

“Y/N, are you—”

“There you two are!” Hyunjin ran over, exasperation clear in his features, “You have to make the toast, Minho! Everyone’s waiting for you!”

“Fuck,” Your husband scowled as Hyunjin ran back to notify the staff. Turning to look at you with a determined expression on his face, he said firmly, “You’re coming onto the stage with me.”

“W-what?” You let out an incredulous laugh, backing away from your husband and feeling as if the comfortable rug you’ve been sitting on had just been yanked out from under you. You’d never been in the spotlight at any galas, and you never wanted to. After all, more time on the stage meant more public scrutiny, and public scrutiny meant bad press for Minho, “Darling, you can’t. This is your party and your future company—”

“It’s going to be your company, too,” Minho retorted, looking deadly serious, “And don’t act like every single one of these decorations wasn’t your idea. You played just as big if not a bigger part in putting this together, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

You shook your head frantically, trying to muster a believable smile, “I don’t want the credit, really. If your employees see you bringing me up there…”

“Y/N,” Minho moved towards you, cupping your face with his hands as he stared you down, his eyes filled with nothing but absolute love and adoration, “There’s no time to have a genuine conversation on this topic right now, but I need you to at least know this. I will never be ashamed of you, Y/N. Never.”

“I know,” You said soothingly, but Minho didn’t look convinced, “I know you’d never be ashamed of me, love, but there’s a difference between not being ashamed and bringing your-high school-dropout wife up on stage in a large and very important gala.”

“They don’t know you,” Minho replied bluntly, “They don’t know that you dropped out to work and pay for your mom’s medical bills. They don’t know how you gave up everything to take care of her. They don’t know how your words pulled me away from the drugs and the alcohol that was working to consume me.”

Stroking your cheek gently, he spoke, “I’m nothing without you, Y/N, and I’m perfectly alright with letting the world see that,” you choke on a sob as he kissed your lips, asking softly, “Is that alright with you, darling?”

You took a moment to collect yourself, staring up at your husband who owned the world in his hands but would drop it all in an instant if you merely said the word, and nodded, “Yes, of course.”

The whispers spread like wildfire as Minho walked onto the stage with you. The cameras flashed and you could hear the shutters clicking, drowning out the sound of your own heartbeat. You hated it. It felt suffocating, and you couldn’t breathe. You had to get out, or you’d ruin everything Minho built--

“Love, I’m right here,” Minho murmurs into your ear, holding onto your waist, and suddenly you felt grounded, brought back to reality with the sound of your husband’s voice, “Don’t look at them, look through them. Their opinion doesn’t matter.”

As you looked out into the crowd, spotting the aghast expressions of Minho’s parents, the envy of the people who would kill to be Minho’s one and only, the venom in Seonghwa’s eyes with a hint of fear as your gazes locked onto each other, it was hard to believe Minho’s words. Opinions created fact in the eyes of the media, and the people that hated you could rewrite your entire identity with a snap of their fingers.

But, as you felt Minho’s firm, reassuring hand on your waist and caught sight of Hyunjin and Felix snickering in the back, you couldn’t fight the smile threatening to appear on your face, your body relaxing and getting used to the spotlight. He was right. They didn’t know you, they didn’t know even a bit of you that really mattered, only seeing what they want to see.

Minho’s lips quirked up into a smile, feeling your gradual shift in mentality as he continued to talk, and he gave your waist a subtle, but loving squeeze.

epilogue.

It was always the same boring jargon.

You sat at your husband’s side, as always, your legs crossed and your head resting against your hand, a perfect picture of relaxed passiveness as you watched grown men squabble at the conference table like young children over a pretty toy.

“The charity money should go to the academy!” One of the men said roughly, “ That’s where it’s gone for years. There’s no use in creating frivolous drama and gossip by changing the beneficiary now.”

“The new school being built by the Park’s would benefit from the additional funding,” Another argued, and your gaze moved towards him, also keeping an eye on a particular Park Seonghwa, who had been decidedly quiet, “The students would be able to receive additional benefits from the donations.”

“The arts center that we have sponsored the construction of would also be a good candidate,” An employee interjected, “It would also bring good publicity for the company, showing our interest in supporting the arts--”

“No.”

All eyes turned towards you, who had not shifted from your laid back position even after your curt interruption. If your husband was surprised, he didn’t so much as blink in surprise, although you could see the telltale glimmer in his eyes, telling you clearly that he was actually amused.

“We’re not going to use the charity money on any of those projects,” you continued, sitting up in your seat, “We’re going to use it for exactly what the definition implies. Charity.”

Seonghwa made a noise, a clear scoff in disguise as he glanced at you, “Mrs. Lee, the past 30 minutes of the meeting have been devoted to discussing the use of the money for--”

“Giving a couple million dollars to projects that already have billion dollar budgets is not charity, Mr. Park,” you interjected cooly, before finally sitting forward to open your laptop, “I’d suggest moving the funds to support the public schools in the city, which are all severely lacking in resources.”

Minho’s face remained impassive, but his eyes were smiling as he quietly observed you take over the room, handling every objection to your proposal with a lazy ease and snark that he’d fallen in love with after mere days of meeting you. After everyone had exhausted their attempts at trying to bring the money back to their own projects, he finally cleared his throat.

“When it comes to charity, the last argument that should be made is about the return profit,” Minho said, his voice low and commanding, “The Lee Company has more means to do good in the city than any other company, and it is perfectly capable of using its additional funds to support people without asking for anything in return.”

His employees are grew quiet with a chastised silence, one that he reveled in before continuing, “Now, if anyone has an opposition to my wife’s proposal that doesn’t revolve around a more financially beneficial option or better publicity, feel free to speak.”

The continued silence felt like a personal triumph for you as you sat back in your seat, once again assuming your relaxed, rather bored posture.

“Good,” Minho said firmly as his employees continued to sit in silence, “Y/N will lead with the execution of this charity. Thank you for a productive meeting, everyone.”

As the people filed out of the room, leaving you and your husband to lounge around the empty and secluded space, you let out a gasp as Minho stood up, loosening his tie before bending down and smashing his lips against yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

“Fuck, do you even know how hot that was?” He groaned, biting your lower lip as his hand gently tilted your head up to a better angle for him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, letting your husband have his fun as you bit his lip teasingly, “Did you really just get turned on by me scolding your employees?”

“Love, I get turned on by you doing practically anything,” Minho chuckles, pulling away slightly to gaze down at your red cheeks and swollen lips, “But you putting people in their place might take the cake.”

“Hmm, is that so?” You hummed, wrapping his tie around your hand and giving it a light yank, “Maybe I should put you in your place, too, darling.”

Minho smirked, his eyes darkening at your words, “Oh, sweetheart, you’re gonna wish you didn’t say that,” he laughed, leaving a fleeting kiss on your lips before pulling away from you completely, moving to lock the door with a soft click.

It was a godsend for the people outside that the conference rooms were built to be soundproof, because two of you walked out maybe half an hour later, your neck littered with marks, courtesy of Minho’s love and hunger, and your legs wobbly, relying on Minho’s firm grip around your waist as the two of you walked back to the parking lot.

And if Minho guided you down the path that would pass Park Seonghwa’s office, flashing him a smug smile, he swore it was nothing more than a simple accident.

#stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #lee minho imagines #my fics

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jinjikook · 6 years

Text

like a genie in a bottle (m)

word count: 4.6k

genre: smut + fluff ; non-idol au

pairing: reader/namjoon

warning(s)/kink(s): hand jobs, male masturbation, semi-public, nipple play + light petting

summary: namjoon just needed some extra cash and he turned to a clinic, where he stumbled upon you and your very unique profession

music: one wish - ray j

a/n: the title is a random mixture of rubbing (lmao) + the song i had on repeat, it really doesn’t relate to the fic at all oh well

masterlist

gif credit

“Alright sir, please have a seat and help yourself to some reading materials until the room is ready for you.” The young receptionist gestured to Namjoon, the chilly waiting room fairly empty save for a soul or two beside the tall blond man.

He nodded and wandered for a chair, choosing one an appropriate distance away from the man seated in the corner of the room. At first, Namjoon channeled his nervous energy into small ticks: tapping his feet to some mindless rhythm and matching the slaps on his knees with his hands much to the annoyance of the lady seated in front of him.

After an awkward smile and a murmured apology, he resorted to humming quietly. Some track that Yoongi was working on for his next upload onto SoundCloud, a collaboration between Namjoon, him and a fairly internet famous singer named Jimin.

Namjoon was glad that technology and the use of it was growing every day, allowing underground artists like himself to reach out to greater audiences. He managed to get fans while still working his usual nine to five with minimal crossover between the two.

“…….?” The receptionist beckoned a person over—the man seated in the corner—and handed him a clipboard to fill out, along with a faux flower pen to write with, to which the man grimaced towards. “Please make sure to fill out all the fields, Mr. Im. It’s crucial to your wellbeing,” It seemed like the man was a regular or at least a known patient if they were privy to his constant lies and omissions of facts.

Namjoon understood, the fear of a doctor finding something wrong or weird with you if you actually told them the truth being one that he shared as well. Just imagine having to explain some embarrassing situation that caused your leg to break in three different places—it just seemed so much easier on both parties (and the patient’s personal dignity) if a little white lie is applied, something as simple as faking that it was a regular trip-and-fall scenario rather than an uncouth story about how you tried out a sex swing and the damn thing fought back.

Namjoon shuddered at the horrid memory and tried out throw it out from his mind almost immediately.

Several minutes later, a nurse emerged from a swinging door, clipboard in hand as she called Namjoon inside.

“Please step onto the scale after removing your shoes, we’ll need to document your height and weight.”

Namjoon paused, a confused look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was all a part of the process?”

The nurse hummed, nodding as she seemed to understand.

“Yes, well we are a fairly high quality establishment—as I’m sure you’ve realized from the pay you’re receiving for your… contribution—and to ensure the highest quality and that the consumers know exactly what they’re getting, it is crucial to extract as many specifics as possible. Imagine if a young woman wanted a son who had a chance of getting a hereditary gene for tall height, she’d want to know just how tall the donor was, correct?”

Namjoon nodded and quickly understood just what the purpose of everything was. He wasn’t about to protest since he was literally getting paid a pretty penny just for doing what he usually does at home; just in a more public setting with lower room temperatures and without the aid of a good video off the internet.

After all the documenting was through, the nurse led him to a private room with a sanitized and covered bed. She explained how to go through the process—that of which was fairly unnecessary since Namjoon had had more than enough experience in this field—and showed him the materials needed. Other than his hand and himself, of course.

“And when you’re through, please label the cup accordingly and place it into the small door there. If you have any trouble, please feel free to make use of the aids we have provided for you; though we ask that you try to keep them clean, for sanitation and comfort purposes, of course. Any questions, Mr. Kim?”

The tall blond shook his head and with that, the nurse slipped out with a small smile so he could do his bidding.

He sighed and looked around, accessing his surrounding and the environment he had to rub one out in. In his mind, he repeated a mantra: think of the money, think of the money, think of the money.

While his job’s pay was decent, he needed some extra bang in this month’s paycheck if he was to make rent and still get himself some new headphones since he so gracefully broke his current pair.

In a normal, everyday sense, it seemed like a dumb splurge item to be going to these lengths for. But in Namjoon’s case, he needed them to be able to record his raps and listen back to be properly critical on his audio; he had to make great tracks in order to get anywhere online and he never let himself dish out anything less than the best.

So that’s how he ended up here, as referred by a good friend who had a similar situation to himself—minus the music production part, since he just was in a pinch for money at the time and found this place that provided him with more than enough compensation for what little he actually had to do.

Namjoon looked over at the leaflets set out for people, some about conceiving children and others about recent studies about fertility. Certainly nothing that would help him get it up, and he hoped everyone else who stepped into this room felt the same way. A move to the left brought a stack of naughty magazines that the office had to (unfortunately) subscribe to in order to provide some “material” for people to work with into his sights.

They weren’t that bad, but Namjoon was a man of taste. Porno mags just didn’t do it for him, no matter how provocatively the women posed or how much skin showed or if her breasts were deliciously supple or not.

He liked the sounds a woman made when she was pleasured properly, the feel of her body—her hands, mouth, and more. Call him old-fashioned, but even porn online just didn’t do much. He made do with it, since it was so easy to obtain and resulted in minimal effort of pursuit but he never came nearly as well as he did in the presence of gorgeous lady.

One like yourself.

As he sat on the bed, the paper cover crinkling with every shift of his ass, he realized that he was no closer to getting hard than when he first entered. Which was clearly going to be an issue since he needed to come if he was to get paid.

A knock sounded on the door, breaking Namjoon out of his frantic thoughts and he was semi-glad that he hadn’t gotten started yet, for fear of what would’ve happened if the knock came while he had his dick out and was going to town.

“Mr. Kim, are you decent?”

With a noise of affirmation, in entered yourself clad in a white lab coat, along with an outfit that Namjoon didn’t think a doctor would wear to work but it was tastefully sensual, professional and just shy of being too sexy.

“We were wondering if you were doing alright, it’s been some time since you first entered. Are you having some trouble?”

Color bloomed on Namjoon’s cheeks, a clear, unspoken admittance to his struggle in the time being. You let out a small chuckle, this not being the first time you’d stumbled across a man unable to get the show started. After all, this wasn’t exactly the most sensual and comfortable atmosphere to be getting those type of feelings in.

“Would you like some help? We can provide you with more accommodations, if you’d like to proceed?”

“Accommodations? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

You slowly shut the door behind you, careful not to close it on your coat and Namjoon settled back further into his seated position at the edge of the bed as he awaited for you to explain further on what these so called “accommodations” were.

“Well, you’ve already seen that we aren’t a typical sort of clinic,” Namjoon nodded. “That being said, we clearly care a lot about not only the consumers, but our patients as well. That’s why we pay so highly, we want quality both ways and we intend to provide properly for said performances.”

“I see, I was explained a little of this earlier by the nurse who brought me in. But where does that apply to helping me… perform?”

You stifled a giggle behind your hand, watching as Namjoon tried to ignore the slight awkward air in the atmosphere.

“What I mean is, we go above and beyond to ensure you’re able to come, Mr. Kim.” Spit got caught in Namjoon’s throat as you said what was considered a forbidden term to him, having danced his way around the very obvious reason why he was here all this time only for you to outright say it so boldly. “That’s why I’m here. How would you like me to assist you?”

Okay, that definitely caught Namjoon off guard. More so than when you said the word “come”.

“W-what? You… helping me?” Thoughts blossomed in Namjoon’s mind, against all his mental protests of trying to stay civil and respectable. He imagined you in places and positions that he shouldn’t have, but at the same time he felt that it couldn’t be helped because what else did you mean by “assisting him” in his objective to ejaculate?

You nodded and shrugged your coat off, giving more of your body to Namjoon’s greedy eyes. He was able to look over your curves and supple body, places that the baggy white coat had hidden and tucked away so well. The dress you were wearing was pretty, flattering to your body type and he’s sure if this was a normal day-to-day situation, he’d find you beautiful enough to approach in public. Maybe in a coffee shop or at a department store as you shopped for groceries and goods.

Not in a fertility clinic, and definitely not when he’s about to donate sperm.

“Miss…?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, I’m sorry Y/N but, I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” You began to reach for your coat promptly after shedding it off, still maintaining your professionalism much to Namjoon’s surprise. “I can direct in our male aid, if that’s to your preference! I’ve heard he’s plenty good at his job, all his clients have been pleased with his assistance—”

“No! That’s not what I meant!”

You paused, hand on the door.

“Then, how can I possibly help if you aren’t going to be clear with what you want?”

Namjoon groaned, throwing his face into his hands before scrambling them through his hair. The light locks cascaded back onto his face, soft on his hard features.

“I don’t need help, male or female!”

“Oh.”

You looked downtrodden, never having been told you weren’t needed. Sure, there had been some with cold feet or that would request Taehyung instead of yourself, but never had someone outright said they didn’t need you.

“Forgive me then, I’ll leave you to your own devices then, Mr. Kim.”

Trying to save face, Namjoon shot up quickly as you opened the door with your head hung low, stopping you with his hand on your wrist while the other landed on the door to make it slam back shut.

He looked into your eyes, noticing the height difference between the two of you and for a moment, he imagined what it’d look like to see those beautiful, big orbs looking up at him from below. What it’d be like if he succumbed to his desires and allowed you to fall to your knees and please him, all for the sake of money, of course.

“I… I didn’t mean that.” You furrowed your brows, thoroughly confused by the flip-flop attitude of this client. You had other things to attend to and if he truly didn’t want or need your services, then you’d rather get a move on and do something more productive with your time. “This is all really new, I’ve never even donated before. Nothing other than blood, I mean.”

And with that, realization dawned onto your features.

“Ah, I see I have a virgin on my hands!” You wiggled your fingers devilishly, a grin toying on your lips.

“What!? I-I’m not a virgin, I’ve had plenty of sex!”

“Relax, Mr. Kim. That’s not what I meant, I mean you’re a virgin at this sort of scenario. Meaning I get the lovely privilege of popping your cherry, in this sense.”

“Oh god, maybe I will just take the dude and try my luck.”

You giggled and gestured for Namjoon to take a seat and get comfortable, wanting to make this all about him because after all, that is what this was about.

“Remove your jacket, it’s tough to get off if you feel constricted and restrained.” Not feeling up to protesting anymore and making a bigger fool and ass out of himself, Namjoon simply nodded and obliged. The denim jacket was a little suffocating anyways, so it at least softened the blow on his ego as he tried to reason that he had his own intentions for taking the offending garment off anyways.

“Now, are there any preferences you have? Things you don’t like?”

Namjoon gulped, still not mentally prepared for what was about to happen.

“Uh, nothing really crazy. Not like we can do much anyways, right?”

“Right. I can’t jeopardize the integrity of your sperm so—”

“Can we please not call it that?”

“What, sperm? What would you prefer? Ejaculate? Come? Release?” At all of Namjoon’s hilarious reactions, you conjured up one last name that forced you to try and hide your shit-eating grin. “Baby batter?”

“Oh my god, please get me the guy; I’m begging you.”

You tittered and waved him off, seeing his smile that went against his negative connotation towards you. He was clearly getting more comfortable, the light humor helping his tension ease.

“So Mr. Kim, how would you like to do this?” And just like that, it was back into the clean-cut clinical atmosphere from before and Namjoon felt his dick tuck itself away just as quick as it’d appeared.

He stammered, clearly unable to formulate his thoughts along with his concerns and you felt like it was your responsibility to take care of him properly. He was clearly a man that clients would love to “make use of”: handsome, tall, an incredible I.Q. and even creative to boot.

A quick peek behind you told you that the stack of dirty magazines weren’t jostled in the slightest, meaning Namjoon hadn’t cared for them in all this time being here. Even his phone was still neatly pocketed in his jean jacket, telling you that he was probably having the most issues because he was more of a hands on sort of guy.

So naturally, you gave him something to work with—hands on.

Namjoon stared wide eyed at his hands, now latched onto your chest. His mouth gaped open, as if it was he that put his own offending hands there and wasn’t sure how to remedy the situation despite the fact that you started it.

“Go on, have a little fun Mr. Kim.

“N-Namjoon.”

You nodded, pursing your lips and trying his name on the tip of your tongue.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Another giggle erupted from your lips, never having had this much fun with a patient before.

Usually they didn’t even require Taehyung or yourself, the magazines and whatever pre-downloaded clips on their cellular doing just the trick for them. Most clients didn’t even know you two existed, what your true purposes were other than collecting the goods to examine and freeze cryogenically.

Namjoon’s head lolled forward, almost resting on your shoulder as he began to knead on his own accord. No sense prolonging the inevitable any longer, he supposed. He felt around, able to map out where your nipples lay under the thin bra you had on in mere minutes. Namjoon prided himself in how well he could work his hands, somewhat of a connoisseur of making girls—and a guy or two—come within minutes with his hands and fingers alone.

Now, this job entailed you to help the clients with their struggles but in no way did it ever go over what would happen if you enjoyed yourself as well. Those who did make use of your services simply did well with a quick hand job, maybe some light fondling but it never progressed further and you always had an air of professionalism around you the entire time. It was an in-and-out sort of job, and you always had a good grasp on that concept.

But Namjoon was a little different.

He was so vocal, groaning and moaning with just feeling you up alone. He’d mumble, saying words like “perfect” and “gorgeous”, things usually these type of guys wouldn’t describe you or your body with at a time like this.

All the while, he maintained the limit of respect, never treading any further and always keeping from saying or doing the wrong thing.

So you were getting a little lost in the feeling and sentiment, his fingers toying with your nipples a little harder than you initially expected. You fought every little noise that bubbled up in your throat, stamping them down for the sake of being a professional.

He hissed, one hand releasing its grip on your breast to come down and adjust himself in his jeans. In hindsight, it’d been a shit choice of attire but at least he looked good, though he wasn’t sure who for since he wasn’t out on a spree to impress anyone in particular. Especially not at a fertility clinic.

“It’s okay, you can make yourself comfortable.” You murmured, Namjoon momentarily forgetting just exactly what he was here for. So with that, he used his hand to instead lower the zipper of his bottoms, the loud metal snagging with every tooth until finally he was able to pop the top button and expose the front of his briefs.

For a moment, he just remained content with rubbing himself off over the fabric of his underwear but quickly the pleasure faded as he craved a more intimate touch. He pulled away from you altogether to tug himself out, exhaling in relief at the lack of confinement around his cock.

“W-wait, before you continue,” You began, moving away from Namjoon to which he instantly regretted, the warmth of your body gone and a chill settling in its place. As you shuffled in the background, around the counter top where the magazines lay, you turned back with the materials the nurse left Namjoon with earlier.

You placed them by Namjoon’s seated body, the cup remaining in place while you took the little square pack and tore it open carefully, extracting a small disinfecting wipe.

“Sorry, it’s protocol.”

“S’okay,” Namjoon slurred, watching intently as you approached his hard and leaking length with the unfolded, damp cloth. It was cold to the touch, almost icy against his hot skin as you quickly wiped away any offending bacteria carefully but thoroughly. “Cold,” He mumbled, to which you apologized and tried to make work of it faster, for his sake more than anything else.

Once you were done with that, you tossed it into the disposal bin and reached for the second square, this one being smaller and of the foil variety.

For a second, Namjoon thought it was a condom but it was much too tiny—especially compared to the size of his length—and the use of a condom would obviously be very pointless in this situation. When you tore it open, holding it at an angle so its contents wouldn’t spill out, realization dawned on Namjoon and he only had a second to mentally prepare before the semi-cold lube dripped onto his cock, the muscle twitching in response to the contact.

Namjoon hissed, fingers twisting and tightening in the paper cover with a loud crinkling cacophony. You apologized once more, trying to quickly coat his cock before covering it with your own hand, making quick work to start up some friction to at least heat up the lubricant for Namjoon’s comfort.

“Oh my god—fuck, s’ah,” Namjoon was torn between talking, moaning and hissing, everything bumping into each other as his nerve endings felt like they were on fire. Your hand was working him slowly but steadily, a firm grip giving him just the right amount of friction everywhere. No doubt were you good at your job, paying extra attention to his head as it continued to leak a steady stream of pre come. “Holy fuck, Y/N, you’re too good at this,”

You let out a breathless chuckle, a little in awe at Namjoon’s reactions. Sure, guys could enjoy it and appreciate it but no one had ever been this enthusiastic, making your own core tingle in between your legs and you knelt down for better measure. That, and it helped put a little bit of pressure on your own sex if you sat on your legs, down on your knees.

“D-don’t do that, shit—Y/N, why are you—”

Namjoon cut himself off with his own groan, head rolling back with his eyes when you twisted particularly well just at the head, in the one spot he was most sensitive. You craved to push your thumb against the slit, smooth out the slick there and make him squirm for real.

But unfortunately, you weren’t allowed to touch there, something about directly contaminating the stream and possibly ruining the batch.

Typically, you’d time the man, make sure you had the cup at the ready for when he was about to orgasm but here you were, on your knees and far too invested in the way Namjoon’s own knees would shake if you held down at the base slightly longer than usual.

His whimpers were light, breathless as they came out stuttered and one after another; an obvious indication that he was getting desperate and close and you felt like you weren’t finished in the slightest.

“Baby, gonna come, comin’” Namjoon so lovingly slurred, his head coming back up to look down at you with full blown out eyes, dark and soft simultaneously making your heart and stomach flip. His hand came down and you had to tear your eyes away from his own when he quirked his brow, gesturing to the cup he had been holding.

Clearly Namjoon had a better grip on the situation than you did and you weren’t sure how you felt about that just yet.

So you simply pushed it back into the dark recesses of your mind, taking the item into your own hand and holding it just at the tip, using your other hand to continue to jerk off the man in front of you. But Namjoon seemed to see the difficulty you had with the angle and having to keep a steady grip on the cup so he brought down his hand to help, wrapping over your own as you both slid up and down his cock, the sounds getting louder from both his skin and his own gaping maw.

Namjoon panted hard, whispering sweet nothings that were just much too sugary for you to handle—for fuck’s sake, you simply worked here. This was getting far too personal and you were afraid of how much the claws of Cupid himself had dug themselves into your back and heart, tearing them both at the same time Namjoon let out one final moan, a little too loud for the non-soundproofed clinic walls.

Despite the air conditioning hiked up for the sake of sanitary purposes, the air around you felt heated and stifling, your throat constricting around straight humidity as Namjoon released into the cup, filling it to the brim with his white, sticky come. Even with the two of you holding tightly onto the cup, and the aim Namjoon had with his cock in hand, it didn’t stop a drop or two from landing on your cheek, your face far too close for usual comfort as Namjoon came.

While he slumped back, coming down from his high, you had broken out of whatever delirious stupor you’d fallen victim to and finally began to do your damn job. You scrambled to your feet, not even cleaning the little bit of come on you as you slapped a top onto the cup and wrote down Namjoon’s information you’d taken from his chart on the clipboard you’d seen earlier.

The door shut with a loud metal clank, the cup secure behind its confines and you were afraid to turn on shaky legs and face the man you’d just gotten too intimate with, even in your job’s case.

“That was… not what I was expecting at all,” Namjoon spoke first, soft and breathless but still painstakingly loud in the otherwise pin-drop silent room.

“Right, well thank you for choosing our services and I—uh, I mean, we hope to see you again soon.” You could no longer hold onto your professionalism, the damn thing torn to shreds and the last shard slipped through your fingers the minute you decided to get down to seat yourself next to Namjoon’s well-endowed length.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.” You couldn’t help but look up at Namjoon, no longer able to resist his charms even laden in his voice.

You were met with a dopey grin, clearly content with his release but also a little bit of something more interlaced somewhere in there. It stole your breath away and you’re sure that you wouldn’t be able to do your job half as well anymore because of the way Namjoon had so critically affected you.

With a nod, you tried to extract yourself from the situation as cold and clean-cut as possible.

Which was basically impossible with a guy like Namjoon around.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” He pointed to a part of his cheek, making a swiping motion. “You got a little something on your face there.” He chuckled as you scrubbed at the spot and snatched your coat back, already halfway out the door.

“Oh, I had one more question!”

With much regret, you stepped back in and looked at the man seated smugly on the bed. The same man that just ten minutes prior was all curled up on himself with stuttering words and nervous hands.

“Do you guys do reservations? Because I’d like to book up your whole week, if that’s possible.” He smirked and you were about to turn heel and leave for the sake of your own sanity and dignity but you had a little bite left in you, and if Namjoon was true in his pursuits for you, well then he deserved to see the snarkier side of you.

“Sorry, I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to get it up that much in a week for that to happen. Thank you for your patronage… sir.”

You stepped out to a slack jawed Namjoon and he recomposed himself in time to shrug his jacket back on and cock his head, deeply surprised by his experience but in no way dissatisfied.

He saw that as a challenge and he was ready to take you up on it.

271 notes · View notes

bluesrrgents · 6 years

Note

Hi dear!! So sorry to bother you (again because i've asked you for fic recs before and they WERE amazing so im back aha) but would hav any good jerejean fic recs?? Ive become kinda obsessed with them

hii you’re never a bother!! sorry this took so long i lost my list of jerejean fics that i’ve read r i p zoe! they’re all under the cut and * means i haven’t read it yet, and please make sure to look at the warnings if you have any triggers!! have fun reading:)

thanks again to everyone who offered me some more recs :)

*hair dye by profslupin

Renee convinces Jean to let her dye his hair. The rest is exactly what you’d expect. (2k)

*mirrors by profslupin

The Trojans help Jean learn to look in the mirror and see himself instead of his scars

“Jean had a complicated relationship with his appearance. It wasn’t that he was insecure about his flaws, necessarily, but rather that they reminded him of his time in the Nest. Of his time with him.” (2.6k)

*watermarked by fairietailed

He hops into the kitchen on one foot, catching his mother before she carries the bowl of peas she’s holding into the dining room.

“Jeremy?” Her eyebrows pull together in concern at the look on his face. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sticking out his foot. “I think it’s my soul mate?”

–

In which bruises and scars from your soulmate appear on your skin, and Jeremy’s skin is a myriad of colored stains. (4.6k)

*and i wanna come home to you. by redhoods

He’s so absorbed in staring at the way the sleeves are pulled up around his wrists that he doesn’t realize the team has filed out to the locker rooms until Jeremy crouches into his line of sight, “Everything alright?”

No, he thinks desperately, you’re too much.

“Sure,” he says eventually, standing up and walking away.

this is actually two parts, so it’s about 6k total

*the smell of honey by lilaliacs

Martha’s was a cozy little coffee shop that always smelled of honey, lilacs and something that couldn’t be described as anything less than home.And that’s what it was to Jeremy, who had spent his childhood sat on a stool at the tiny bar, coloring in the patterns of the menus, or watching his mother creating the most beautiful cakes and pastries that he had ever seen.

The place was filled with good memories and everyone who came in could sense the atmosphere of peace that seemed to fill the soft light falling in through lacy curtains at any time of day. In fact, multiple patrons had stated that they came in for exactly this, for a break from their everyday stress, to just grab a coffee and absorb whatever magic the smell of Martha’s cakes emitted and it was something Jeremy’s mother was very proud of.It was also something Jeremy was very proud of, and the reason for him to put his all in making the customers’ time there worthwhile.He never thought that one day, doing that would be a challenge.

(AU in which everything is the same only that Jeremy isnt captain of the trojans but works in his mom’s coffeeshop instead) (11k)

*eyes wide open by jaylocked

Jean blinked. Blinked again. Was sure he didn’t recognize the man on his doorstep, with his bright eyes and enormous grin and wavy blonde hair. Waited for him to explain himself with a simple raised eyebrow.

“Hi!” the man finally chirped. The sound was happiness channeled into a single word, and Jean wasn’t sure how he didn’t hate him already.

(based on the prompt from tumblr: “hi sorry I live below you and I hear your dog running around and barking all the time and– no no it’s fine I was just wondering if I could pet it?” au) (13k)

*i’ll come crashing by exyfexyfoxes

Hades/Persephone in the modern world where Jean runs an underground club that herds the souls of the dead. It’s a place where even gods die if they stay too long, regardless of how many pomegranate seeds they eat. Jean wants out. Jeremy wants in. Everybody wants them far away from each other. (19k)

*je reviens by laarusthefirst

‘Moreau is a rain cloud,’ Alvarez muttered, annoyed and bruised, watching Jean stalk ahead to the changing rooms. ‘He’s the human embodiment of a headache. He is the opposite of a Trojan.’‘Fucking good though, isn’t he?’ grinned Connor, jogging past.‘Can’t we all just be nice?’ Jeremy asked. (20k)

*this ink is still drying by ghostqueen

You can’t control who you want and you can’t control who hurts you

Jeremy was staring at Jean’s arms, tracing the bright swirls and splotches of ink that made up his sleeves with his eyes. His sleeves had been months of work and they still weren’t quite complete, he was still figuring out how to finish them. The first tattoo on his arms had been eight months ago, his first tattoo had been long before that. (26k)

*thick skin, an elastic heart by badacts

Jean sleeps around and learns how to make friends rather than alliances. Jeremy falls in love and can’t stop fucking up. (26k)

*ask the messenger by metis_ink

Jeremy Knox and the soulmate.

Guest starring: Exy, a transfer student, generalized anxiety, older sisters, drunk lesbians, bread, cake, a shed, the beach, the absence of Hennessy, Star Wars, Renee Walker, self-taught smooth talking, gratuitous French, No. 1 Trojans fan Kevin Day, relationship drama, general drama, the power of Friendship, questions, answers, team spirit!, and, of course, romance. (32k)

he could taste the stars by subtlehysteria

Jean is still adjusting to being a Trojan, Jeremy tries to help Jean open up to his new team. (47k)

*shield for a heart by neilskey

“It’s your choice, but you’re rotting away in here, Jean and no matter what she says, you can’t live in Abby’s spare bedroom forever. Time to start fighting again.”

Kevin’s hard and commanding tone was no surprise. The softness had been beaten out of him around the same time as Jean.

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

Maybe it was because he had been half hidden in shadows-Jean had kept the shades drawn, but light still seeped in the cracks- but Jean thought he had seen something akin to understanding paint Kevin’s cool expression.“He’s gone. You survived. Play or don’t, it’s up to you, but you need to get out of this fucking house.”//Jean’s first year at USC. Jeremy falls hard, Jean comes around eventually. (55k)

*a little illumination by lazarusthefirst

Jean’s a lonely firefighter, and Jeremy teaches kindergarten. Everyone learns something about themselves. (56k)

*shooting for the stars, desperately reaching for something in the dark by cryptidkidprem

“He just won’t be back in black.”

A look at Jean’s first year with the Trojans, and his slightly rocky path to recovery. (146k)

WIPs:

*these streets by profslupin

alternate title: Jean and Jeremy’s Guide to an Epic Cross Country Road Trip

After one of Alvarez’s pranks leaves the boys stranded in South Carolina after a game, they decide to take the long route home. (1.6k, chapters 1/?)

*under the sun by knox_moreau

Jean Moreau is an exy player, not a writer. At least that’s what he thinks. His newfound therapist, however, has other ideas. Seeing as Jean refuses to talk to her in his hour-long therapy sessions, Ms. Dawson suggests perhaps writing down whatever he’s keeping inside. Jean can’t possibly see how he’s expected to write when he has nothing to write about. Then comes Jeremy Knox, in all his brightness and magnitude. Maybe, Jean thinks, he has something to write about. (7.2k, ch. 5/?)

*daffodils & gardenias by profslupin (any and all works by meg sponsored by this blog)

Jeremy Knox is the owner of a tattoo parlor when Jean Moreau opens up a flower shop next door. Jeremy gets a crush, but thankfully Laila and Alvarez are there to play matchmaker, with the help of Renee. (14k, ch. 9/?)\

*leaving marks by blackcatiiix

In a world where your soulmate’s injuries appear as bruises on your skin, Jeremy is… struggling. And that’s even before he meets Jean Moreau. (46k, ch. 12/?)

*marrow without bone by exyfexyfoxes

Onscreen Jeremy didn’t hesitate, displaying an eagerness that translated well across television. “Yeah, I spoke to Jean earlier this week. He’s definitely done for the year but he’ll be back in the fall.”Then, impeccably, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “He just won’t be back in black.“Jean’s eyes narrowed.

(The season hasn’t even started yet and Jeremy already wants to cut their newest player from the team. Making the switch from Raven to Trojan isn’t quite what Jean thought it would be.) (68k, ch. 18/20)

#ask #tfc fic #tfc fic rec #fic #fic rec #aftg fic #aftg fic rec #tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #jeremy knox #jean moreau #jerejean #tfc fanfic #aftg fanfic #zoe.txt

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