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headlinerkwan · 9 months ago

Text

something new - j.ww

pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: university!au, e2l, academic rivals to lovers, featuring svt as your friend group, angst, fluff, suggestive - MDNI!!

summary: you and wonwoo have been rivals since the first day you met, everything he did irritated you to no end, and yet, you couldn't escape him and, at a certain point, maybe you didn't want to.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, no one knows how to communicate lol, kissing, suggestive

wc: 5.7k

a/n: wonwoo academic rival bc i love him being all nerdy n shit. i really enjoyed writing this so let me know what you think + if you have any requests for some new fics!! ฅ ฅ

You stare down at your paper, illegible and scattered with doodles and a sharp exhale falls from your lips. Tapping your pen against the table, you wonder how the hell you’re going to pass this surprise exam - a surprise for you at least, apparently telling you must have slipped everyone else’s mind. Someone taps your shoulder lightly, bringing you out of your spiral. You turn to meet the eyes of the stranger sat beside you, his jet black hair is pushed roughly out of his face, allowing you to see his soft dark eyes peer down at you.

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, clueless as to why he would be trying to get your attention in the middle of an exam. He mouths the word ‘pen’ in response, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes looking at you with pure desperation. Looking at his desk, you notice the pen next to his hand is broken. You turn away briefly and watch as he lets out a breath of relief and adorns a grateful smile once you appear with a spare pen for him to use.

It seems like the bell rings almost immediately once you return your focus to your exam paper - shit. Now you’re definitely not passing. The bell sounds vaguely familiar as it continues to ricochet through you, you rack your brain trying to remember where you’ve heard the sound before… oh, it’s your alarm clock. Oh! It’s your alarm clock!

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Your eyes snap open as you sit up in bed to turn off the irritating tune that your clock had been emitting for god knows how long. It was the first day of the semester, of course you had woken up twenty minutes behind schedule after a cliche ‘first-day-of-school’ dream, what else could you expect?

Arriving at your first class of the day, you find your friend Seungkwan sat strategically in the corner of the semester hall - just far away enough to avoid the risk of being called upon by the professor. You take a seat next to Seungkwan and listen as he begins to rant about his commute. You and Seungkwan have been friends since Freshman year after getting paired up for a group project. Originally, you were fearful that you wouldn’t get along, on the surface you were like chalk and cheese, but you find now that Seungkwan balances you out just right. His bold extrovertism has pushed you to be a little less timid, to actually live and, you like to think that you’ve mellowed him about a bit too. You wouldn’t mind listening to Seungkwan talk and joke around all day, that’s when he’s happiest so, naturally, you are too.

Your conversation with Seungkwan comes to stop as both of your attention gets drawn to a loud racket growing a few rows behind you. You follow the noise to find loveable class clowns Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Seokmin.

“Ah, it's just Soonyoung, so anyways…” Seungkwan turns back to his laptop and continues expressing his somewhat irrational love of drive-thrus . You, however, are still watching your classmates, unable to tear your eyes away from one of them, his dark slightly nerdy features captivating you.

“Kwan,” you murmur, “Who’s the guy next to Seokmin?”

Seungkwan hums, satisfied, “I was waiting for you to say something, always so nosy.”

You huff gently, knowing well enough that there’s no point in arguing with him, “So?””

“Jeon Wonwoo. Just transferred for his last year I guess.”

“Huh weird, I could've sworn I’ve seen him before.”

Your friend scoffs jokingly, “In your dreams bro.”

You sigh again, resting your head on the desk sulkily. ‘In your dreams’, Seungkwan’s words echo. Wait… Is he… your head whips around to glance at the mysterious man again. No fucking way… Jeon Wonwoo is literally the guy from your dreams.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

If you had known back then how much you would grow to dislike Wonwoo, you never would have commented on his good looks that first day but, you guess you can’t really blame yourself for not knowing how much of a dick he was. Since you had met, you had tried, maybe too hard, to figure out what you had done to make him treat you the way that he did. Over the weeks you have watched him form bonds with everyone in your class - especially your friends, and you saw how his smile fell and laughter stopped as soon as you made your presence known. It was if you had physically attacked him, the way that his eyes immediately dropped to the floor once you came into view. The thing that annoyed you the most about Jeon Wonwoo though, more than the unexplained icing out, was his brain.

You don’t like to brag but you pride yourself on your intelligence, especially in academia. You had worked hard to reach the place you were in now, throwing away your teenage years in favor of ensuring a happy and successful future for yourself. Because of this, you work hard to make sure you’re at the top of the list whenever your exam results are released - improving upon yourself and being the best of the best, that’s what you strive for. So of course, it came as an infuriating shock when Wonwoo knocked you out of the top spot, that smug look on his face and the glimmer in his eyes as he walked past you that day was something you couldn’t get out of your head. No matter how hard you tried, day and night, the only thing on your mind was Wonwoo and how to beat him.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Ok, what can you tell me about Wonwoo?” you are sitting in your campus cafe, your best friend Seungkwan sits across from you as you mindlessly stir your coffee.

“Why do you always assume I have information on everyone?”

“Because you always do, my favorite gossip.” you reply, buttering him up in hope he’ll give you something, anything.

“What’s your business with him anyways? Oh…” he gasps “you have a little campus crush don’t you? That’s why you’re so off around him.”

“Don’t go spreading false information, Boo Seungkwan, he’s the one who gets cold and quiet when I’m around. Besides, no sleeping with the enemy.”

“He’s the enemy now? Hot.”

You scoff gently at his comment, rolling your eyes “Just tell me what you know”, you say laughing.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

As time goes on, nothing much changes between you and Wonwoo. He becomes a fixture within your friendship group with the boys taking him under their wing and as he begins to pop up in more areas of your life, you learn more about him. You learn about his love for video games and cats, you learn he’s a great listener but can speak for the country when he’s passionate about something. You learn he’s funny and even smarter than you thought. It’s annoying that you could imagine actually being friends with him if he was just nice, you admit you might be able to understand the crowd of girls that follow him around aimlessly if he wasn’t such an asshole. Because, despite him joining your friendship group and you - unwillingly - spending more time around him, he still acted so coldly towards you, no matter how nice you were to him, he never faltered.

“Split into groups of six, no more, no less and create a presentation applying your chosen theorem to the 21st century.” your professor orders. Immediately the students around you begin to migrate around the room, collecting friends for the group project. You turn to your left to find that Seungkwan is already clambering over the seats behind you to reach Seokmin, Mingyu, Soonyoung and Wonwoo - all four of them cheering on his show of athleticism.

“Quickly guys! Come on!” the professor calls out from the front of the class. You look around to realise that you’ve waited a bit too long to choose a group for yourself. That’s when you hear your name being called and turn to find Mingyu reaching his hand out to you with that cheesy grin you just couldn’t say no to.

“We need the class nerd on our team, c’mon!” Soonyoung calls out to you from above.

“We already have Wonwoo though?” Seungkwan remarks with a mischievous smirk. You quickly shoot him a stern, irritated look as his smile is broken by Seokmin elbowing him in the ribs for a reason you can’t quite figure out.

A few days later, you and your friends (and Wonwoo) decide to meet at the library to brainstorm for your project. You arrive first with Seokmin and Mingyu and find a table just big enough for the six of you. Soonyoung trails along not long after and the four of you play some quiet games whilst waiting for Seungkwan and Wonwoo to arrive. You note that one of the two empty seats is positioned directly across for you whilst the other is out of view. The solution is clear, Seungkwan will sit across from you, at least then you’ll be able to focus on the assignment.

Once the pair arrive, you attempt to signal to Kwan, strong eye contact asking him to take the chair opposite you.

“Won, which seat do you want?” He asks the other boy, and you can’t hold back the sigh that escapes as your plan crumbles before you

“I’ll take this one, the lighting’s better.” Wonwoo replies, making brief eye contact with you before pulling out the chair with a shy smirk on his face.

…what was that about? And when did he get so cocky?

Soonyoung clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence that suddenly fell over the group and you thank God that he’s here to take the attention off of your exchange with Wonwoo and prompt you to actually start working on the project.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Soon enough, you find yourself in a quiet bar across town on a Thursday night. Following your friends’ advice you decide to accept your coworker’s invitation to grab drinks. You tell yourself why not? He’s nice enough, attractive and funny, sometimes anyways. Plus you haven’t got much else going on in the love department - no harm, no foul.

After half an hour or so of pleasant small talk, you leave the booth and head towards the bar to order another drink. As you trudge across the sticky floor you are stopped in your tracks as a man steps in front of you, blocking you from reaching your destination.

“Excuse me,” you begin, attempting to manoeuvre around him.

“You shouldn’t be with him.” the man says.

“Excuse me?” you repeat, this time in disbelief.

“You heard me.” he says, quieter this time. You lift your head to get a proper look at the stranger’s face.

“Of course you’re here.” you scoff. You push past him, shaking your head as you reach the bar. He follows, not giving up.

“You don’t suit each other.”

You laugh, God, he’s so infuriating, who does he think he is?

“Oh please, Wonwoo, like you know the slightest thing about me.”

“Actually I-”

Just then your ‘date’ appears, “Is everything ok?” He asks with a slightly concerned look.

“Yeah! Just a… classmate.” A false happiness lines your voice.

“Come on, let's head back to the table.” you say, turning your back on Wonwoo who watches on with a solemn expression.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Not long after that, you find yourself at the library with your friends almost every day, grinding to get your project completed. You and Wonwoo haven’t spoken about the night at the bar, not that he speaks to you usually anyways. Instead though, you begin to catch him looking at you more and more often, his gaze burning into you, making you heat up and, most importantly distracting you from your work.

“What’s going on with you and Wonwoo then?” Seungkwan asks one day whilst you do a snack run for the rest of the group.

“What?” you reply, stopping where you are, astonished.

“Just saying, he can’t keep his eyes off of you.”

“He’s trying to sabotage me or something.”

“...Why would he do that? Y’know we’re graded as a group right?” He says, baffled.

“Whatever.” you reply, turning into the next aisle, fed up of even thinking about Wonwoo, never mind talking about the man.

Returning to your friends, they circle you like vultures, picking out they’re snacks. It’s a chaotic free for all and you’re left with a candy bar and some chips. Wonwoo stands patiently whilst the others rob you blind so, once the others return to their seats you approach him quietly, avoiding eye contact and place the chips in front of him. He mutters a small “thank you” and smiles gratefully, watching again as you return to your work. Now he’s just being weird, you think to yourself. You can’t help but be curious about what he’s plotting.

At the end of the study session, the boys decide to head to the bar to reward themselves.

“Y/N, you coming?” Mingyu asks.

“I’m good, thanks though!” you reply with a soft smile, finding a quiet night watching Netflix to be a bit more appealing today.

Your friends leave before you, saying goodbye whilst you pack up your stuff. As you shove your laptop into your bag, you can feel someone’s eyes on you and your face begins to heat up at your suspicion.

“Wonwoo! Hurry up!” you hear Soonyoung whine.

“Right, sorry.”

You look up just quick enough to catch him turning away from you and running to meet with the rest of the group.

Huh, weird.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

That weekend, your phone buzzes with a string of texts from Mingyu.

Mingyu: Wanna come over and play video games?

Mingyu: (Say yes)

Mingyu: Pleaseee, I’m so bored :)

You’ve worked fucking hard recently and couldn’t think of a better way to end the week than by playing nostalgic video games with one of your closest friends

Y/N: Don't even WORRY, I’m omw

You respond quickly, pulling a bleach-stained hoodie on and heading for the door.

You’re sat on the floor next to Mingyu in front of his TV. The room is dead silent, spare some trash talk from the both of you as you channel all of your focus on Mario Kart. As a result, neither of you notice Wonwoo coming in to watch your fierce competition.

You swear you see your life flash before your eyes when he, watching the screen intently, mumbles “Be careful. Blue shell coming your way.”

His sudden words do nothing but scare the living shit out of you and make you crash into a wall.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, heart beating rapidly after his jumpscare, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looks at you blankly, taken aback by your overreaction, “Oh…uh… I live here.”

You turn to Mingyu who confirms with his lips pressed together in an awkward smile.

“Oh. Sorry. You just scared me a bit, my bad.”

He chuckles quietly in response before walking over to the kitchen and leaving the two of you to finish your race (which you still win, despite Wonwoo’s meddling.) A handful of races later, Mingyu’s phone buzzes, ushering him to go and collect the takeout you had ordered. Standing up, he grabs his jacket and keys but doesn’t dare leave before messing with you more than he already has.

“Wonwoo?” He calls with a mischievous grin, “Come play instead of me whilst I go get the food!”

Wonwoo hums a response as he moves to sit down next to you whilst you shoot death glares at your friend, who simply mouths ‘be nice’ before slamming the door behind him.

He picks up Mingyu’s controller and hovers over ‘Wario’s Gold Mine’.

“What are you doing?”

He looks at you, confused “Uh… choosing the best map?”

You laugh, “No no, my poor Wonwoo. This is the best map.” You take the remote from him and select ‘Koopa Cape’.

“Ooh, you’re so wrong.” he replies playfully.

“I’m never wrong.”

“That’s true.”

You catch yourself smiling as the race starts. Maybe you are wrong, maybe he’s not so bad.

“Oh my god, hit me with a shell again, I swear to god Jeon Wonwoo.” you exclaim as he surpasses you for the fourth time. He laughs, nudging you gently.

“I didn’t know you were such a sore loser.”

You look at him, forgetting about the game, “You don't know anything about me.” you say, under your breath. He turns to you, concerned.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Turning back to the screen, you find that Wonwoo has stolen first place from you - again.

“Fuck.” you mutter, refocusing on the race, watching as a proud smile creeps onto Wonwoo’s face.

“Wow, Y/N actually lost for once!” Mingyu declares as he returns with the food, “I guess we finally found your match.”

“Shut up.” you bark back, rolling your eyes and leaning back against the couch. Wonwoo mutters a ‘good game’ before standing up with a smirk and leaving the room. You scoff at his slight obnoxiousness whilst Mingyu sits down beside you and begins unpacking the food.

“Are you gonna stop sulking and go get some plates?”

“Ugh fineee” you reply jokingly before getting up.

You’re completely lost in the kitchen, opening every cupboard in sight hoping to find some plates and cutlery.

“You good?” a voice calls from behind you. You look up to find Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, slightly baffled by your snooping.

“Uh…plates?”

“Ah,” he says walking towards you, you step back until you’re caught by the kitchen counter. “Just up here.” he continues, reaching behind you to grab the plates.

He’s so close that, for the first time, you can smell his woody cologne strongly. Your heart speeds up as he places the plates down on the counter behind you, his hands resting on either side, trapping you.

You look up at him, breathless, as he scans your face. You’re silent, drinking him in, your hands fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. He lifts his hand, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers against your lips.

You can only bring yourself to nod in complete disbelief at the sudden shift between the two of you, the magnetism drawing you together. He moves in closer to you, so close you can feel his eyelashes as they flutter against your skin and his breathing grows slightly heavier.

“Y/N, did you find them?” Mingyu calls from the other room. You’ve never moved away from a person so fast, separating yourself from Wonwoo immediately. You clear your throat, maintaining eye contact with Wonwoo, still flustered.

“Yep sorry! Just grabbing a drink.” Thinking fast, Wonwoo hands you a can of coke.

“Can you grab me one too?” Mingyu shouts.

You both laugh quietly as he hands you another. You nod and smile, leaving him in the kitchen and heading back to your food.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

It’s a week before you see him again, your group's last meeting before the final presentation, a chance for you to go over the final details. The meeting is generally uneventful, everyone finally focused on the task at hand.

“I think if we switch the parts about culture and equity then it would flow better.” Wonwoo suggests.

“Hmm, I agree” you reply nonchalantly because, on this rare occasion, you actually do.

“What the fuck was that?” Seungkwan whispers to you.

“What?”

“You never agree with him.”

“He made a good point.” you shrug, brushing off your friend’s interrogation. Looking up you catch Wonwoo smiling at you, giggling under his breath like a teenager. You have to stifle the smile that begins creeping onto your face as you watch him.

“And that is why we believe that absurdism is an essential mindset to have in order to thrive in the modern day.” Seokmin argues, concluding your group project, finally. The six of you share reassuring nods and smiles, you’ve done your best and you’re happy with it, the rest is out of your hands.

As you exit the assessment room, Soonyoung pipes up, “Drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks?” He chants pointing at each of you as he does, the group mumbles a variety of agreements.

“Y/N?” Mingyu asks.

“Come on, it’ll be fun, try something new.” Seungkwan whispers.

You look at your friends smiling eagerly as they wait for your response, with an exhale and a nod, you give in, “drinks.”

At the bar, you crowd a small table, each with a drink in hand, talking and laughing about whatever comes to mind. You play games, sharing embarrassing childhood stories and weird facts you never would’ve learnt anywhere else. You are having fun, smiling, peaceful but, something’s off. You can feel it. He’s been quiet all night, barely even looked at you. It was annoying. It was annoying that it annoyed you, a few weeks ago this would have been normal behavior but now, it was different, it upset you, made you feel like you’d done something wrong, made you feel… unwanted.

Being truthful, you weren’t really feeling it tonight. If you had it your way you’d be on your couch right now watching a film. You weren’t gonna go, not until you saw his cheesy grin amongst your friends’, so sweet you could melt. He was the reason you went out tonight. Him, and Seungkwan’s words, you should try something new. You had never felt so overwhelmed by your own feelings, one minute you felt nothing short of hatred for Wonwoo and the next… your heart is fluttering every time your eyes meet.

During your daze, Wonwoo gets up to buy another round for the group, the sound of his chair moving snaps your focus back to the table but he’s already disappeared. You excuse yourself to the restroom, taking the chance to talk to Wonwoo whilst everyone else is distracted. Standing beside him, his eyes are fixed on his phone, reading some kind of article.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, nervous for his answer - you’re not sure what you’ll do either way. He looks up at you, soft dark eyes taking you in. He stands with an unreadable expression for what feels like forever before he finally opens his mouth to reply and then-

“Wonwoo! Come here quickly, settle this bet for us!” Sometimes, you really hate Soonyoung.

He shoots you an apologetic look and then, he’s gone, just like that. All the courage you had built up, wasted on an unanswered question. Fuck this. You grab your jacket, shooting Seungkwan a ‘don’t worry I’ll text you later’ look and head for the door. You’re exhausted, tired of it all, you just want to be in your own bed.

As you walk down the quiet streets, you hear another pair of footsteps catching up to you.

“Are you okay?”

You look at him. You’re irritable and know that you’re probably not going to say the right thing but what the hell.

“So you’re allowed to ask but I’m not?”

“No, that’s not- I… I’m sorry, I never know how to act around you, I never know what to say, I’m always doing the wrong thing but I-”

“Wonwoo.” you interject, “I can’t do this right now. Just… just go back to the bar.”

He doesn't respond, a silent understanding. He doesn’t leave either. He walks alongside you the whole way home, giving you quiet to think, offering you a comforting smile whenever your eyes meet. It breaks your heart just as much as it warms it, that he, despite your outburst, stays by your side when you need someone.

Even if you try to push him away, somehow he knows, he knows that you want him there.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

With the group project over, you don’t see him as often as before, hardly ever when you’re alone. You decide to put him out of your mind for a while, to focus on work and the rest of your assignments. Wonwoo, though, seems to have a habit of sabotaging your plans.

It started off with simpler things, turning up at your work just to place a complicated order, smirking as he watches you struggle with it. Then on exam week, a bag of your favorite snacks appears at your door. On a random Wednesday, he orders a pizza to your apartment. On your birthday, a small cake. And, there’s not a week that goes by where he fails to visit the cafe, you’ve grown to look forward to his bizarre orders and playful teasing.

Once the professor announces the end of the lecture, you grab your laptop and walk towards the door where you’re met with a familiar face.

“Ah, the coffee fairy, what can I do for you today?” you greet him, playfully.

“Can we talk? I’ll walk you home.” he asks, his voice laced with anxiety.

“Okay…” you nod, curious as to why he’s acting this way.

Walking through campus, he clears his throat, “So…” he trails off.

“So?”

“So I don’t really know how to say this. I mean, maybe you already know but I mean… I’m sorry, I’m sorry if I upset you, or hurt you, or made you angry. If you hate me, that’s okay I just-”

“I don’t hate you Wonwoo. Not anymore, anyways.”

He chuckles softly, “Well, I just want you to know that I don’t plan on giving up I… I think this is it for me,”

“It?”

“You. I think you’re it for me. I think it was over for me the moment I saw you.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “And I’m sorry about everything. Around you, I just, I forget how to act, I can’t think. It’s all just… you.”

As he speaks, your face begins to heat up under his gaze, a smile appearing on your face as you take his hand in yours hesitantly, squeezing it gently. Suddenly, he stops speaking, pausing to think.

“Wait… what do you mean you don’t hate me anymore?” You can only laugh at his question as he pulls you closer to him.

The walk back to your apartment is nice, peaceful even, like this is where you’re meant to be. You turn towards him to say goodbye and thank him for walking so far out of his way. He can’t hide his shyness as he says goodbye, stammering slightly with rosy cheeks. You look at him, hoping for more, but his eyes are fixed to the floor as he blushes. You laugh quietly, finding him incredibly endearing before turning away to enter your apartment.

Suddenly, you feel his hand reach for your arm, “wait.” he says, spinning you back to him.

The action happens so quickly, you’re basically pressed up against him, one of your hands finding his bicep to balance yourself. You look up at him, it’s clear that he’s still nervous but he’s doing his best to play it cool, his hand rests on your lower back as he pulls you even closer. The way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he’s ever known, sends the color to your cheeks and you can feel your heart beating faster by the second.

His other hand finds your jaw as he leans his face closer to yours, his breath tickling your lips. His soft, puppy dog eyes search yours for consent, and just like in Mingyu’s kitchen, you can muster up nothing but a nod, your breathing getting shallower with anticipation, hunger.

His lips delicately brush yours, cautious and timid. You kiss him back warmly, he tastes like peppermint and cola, both new and familiar at the same time. He leans into you more, growing more confident as you part your lips, letting him explore you further. You fall into a perfect rhythm with butterflies fluttering throughout you and your grip on the other becoming firmer.

Remembering that you need to breathe, you break away from each other slowly. He rests his forehead against yours, sharing your breathless giggles and smiles of relief.

“Jeon Wonwoo.” you whisper, still in a daze.

“Hmm?” he hums happily.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Only pretty sure?” he jokes, feigning upset.

“100% sure.” you correct yourself with a happy grin.

“Good.” he says, pecking you softly and then pressing another kiss against your cheek. “I almost went insane waiting for you to realize.”

“Realize what?”

He pulls you into a warm, strong hug, resting his head on your shoulder before whispering “That it was always you and me.”

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“What’s going on with Wonwoo?” Seungkwan asks on your way to class two days later.

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s different… he’s brighter.”

“Why would I know anything about it, none of my business” you state, biting your lip to hide your knowing smile.

“Oh come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed!”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bro, he didn’t stop smiling the entire time he was there, it was weird. He even spoke differently, lighter.”

You hum a manufactured surprised response as your friend continues.

“Maybe he met someone, he always talks about that person he’s liked since he moved here, maybe he finally made a move - i hope so I don’t know how much more of his schoolboy pining I can take.”

Your gaze is glued to the floor as you listen, knowing that you were the reason for all his changes and that he was the reason for all of yours. That he made the world seem new, brighter, happier.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Are you okay? We haven’t talked in a few days.” Wonwoo says over the phone.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my thesis, I feel like I’m never gonna leave this apartment again.”

“That’s okay! I get it,” he reassures you, “talk to me about it.”

He listens intently as you babble about your thesis, humming along, asking questions and offering advice. Whilst you explain the block that you’re facing currently, there’s a knock at the door. Getting up from your laptop to answer it, you continue, “And now, I’m not sure where to go next.”

“With me.”

“Huh?”

Opening the door, he’s stood in front of you. His dark hair falling perfectly, as he runs his fingers through it, still holding his phone to his ear with a sweet smile and pride in his eyes.

Hanging up the phone, he clarifies, “take a break, let’s go for dinner.”

And how could you deny such a pretty face?

Walking the streets, he speaks passionately as he shows you his favorite spots around the city and you find yourself just happy to be here with him, to witness his excitement with a cheesy grin that you reserve for only a few people in your life.

“You’re quite the sweet talker, Jeon Wonwoo.” you say, giggling.

“Of course,” he responds proudly, “How else would I get to have you by my side?” With that he pulls you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you, swaying playfully from side-to-side and holding you as if you’re all he needs with him right now.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

The elevator dings as the two of you stumble inside, your arms resting on his shoulders. Looking at him with adoration as he turns you gently, reaching his hand out to clumsily press the elevator buttons behind you. You giggle between kisses as you find your balance, clinging onto each other. You hardly notice when the elevator rings again outside your apartment, too busy with your hands tangled in his hair and his palms running across your sides in painstaking seduction.

Then he’s guiding you out of the elevator, hands still firm on your hips and not daring to break away from you for even a second. He slips his hand into yours, taking your keys and mindlessly fumbles to unlock the door.

It takes mere seconds once the door opens for him to slam it shut and have you trapped against the wall, he moves against you sloppily, licking into you with pure hunger and adoration, a tsunami of lust as his groans echo throughout your body.

“Fuck. If you’d just spoken to me on that first day, I would’ve made you mine then and there.” he whispers against your skin, trailing electric kisses down your jaw towards your collarbone.

You laugh in shock, lifting his lips back up towards yours, his cold hands sneaking underneath your shirt as you kiss him back feverishly. “Me? No, you were the one who ignored me.”

“Hmm” he responds breathlessly, turning you around and leading you to your bedroom. Drawn together like magnets, you both stumble across the room, hands and lips battling for the next sweet taste, the next wanting touch.

“Look how far…” his lips find yours again, “just a bit…” and again, “of communication can go” you finally manage to moan out.

“Are you gonna stop talking and be mine now or…?” he whines as you drag against his lips.

You giggle softly as he lifts your arms to rest around his shoulders, pulling you in by the waist before his soft mouth is reunited with yours.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

You could never have imagined that you would come to find a safe space in Wonwoo. That you would eventually know him better than yourself. That the man you loathed, competed against, fought, would be yours. The man whose presence bothered you would soon be the one to hold your hand through good news and bad. That his happiness was your happiness, his sadness, his pride, his love.

You never could have imagined that he would be the one waking you up on Sunday mornings with sweet kisses on your collarbone. That, at night you would be drawing idle patterns on his chest. That even after waking up from your dreams, he’d still be there holding you. That his touch was the only thing you craved, his kisses your favorite greeting, his voice your favorite song. His gaze and gooey brown eyes which used to irritate you to no end, would soon become your lighthouse in the storm. You never could have imagined that you would love Jeon Wonwoo.

taglist: @peachytokki @aidanjoon @mykpopficblog @cheeseburgerjuseyo

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pboogerswbb · 6 days ago

Text

SO IT GOES - chapter 19

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, angst, sexual (straight) content and language Wordcount: 9.7K A/C: did you miss me? ;) pls send me reactions, i poured my HEART into this chapter (also special ty to my babies @sierrale8ne and @thaatdigitaldiary who got to read this first and gave me some feedback ily)

London

This is a Jubilee line train to Stratford. The next station is Canary Wharf. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.

I get up from the seat and brush myself off, trying to rid my coat of the thousands of commuters who’d sat in this same seat before me. I grab hold of the handle by the door as the tube slows down and finally jerks and comes to a halt. The doors slide open, and I leap onto the platform while men in suits wait for me to get out, before stuffing themselves into the carriage.

Canary Wharf is filled with skyscrapers and important people in smart clothing carrying briefcases, hurrying from one meeting to another. It’s a far stretch from the warm, friendly faces of Dallas, nevermind the weather. I pull out my jet black umbrella, allowing it to catch the droplets falling from the rainclouds that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Sorry,” I mumble politely as I push through a group of people - undoubtedly tourists - standing in the middle of the walkway. Glancing at the pier along the river I see a group of pigeons fighting over a piece of bread amongst orange leaves spread out on the wood as a sign of autumn. I smooth over my beige trench coat and a chill runs down my back - maybe from the October breeze or maybe from the notification flashing onto my phone screen.

Paige Bueckers named Rookie of The Year

It’s immediate, the way my eyes begin to burn. No Izara, no tears. How lucky am I to have felt something so deep, so real that I could still feel it in my bones. Most people don’t get that in a lifetime.

I take faster steps, gliding along the streets amongst the tall buildings, beams of sunlight reflecting off the glass. I take down my umbrella, hanging it off my wrist as I push sunglasses onto my face. Even after my entire life in London, I never knew what type of weather the city might throw at me.

Pushing through the tall, glass doors, I’m immediately greeted.

“Good morning Miss Chopra,” the assistant smiles. Sarah, I believe, though I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her in nearly a year. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

I chuckle at her dry joke, taking my hair down from the clip and letting it flow free. “Yes, for approximately 10 minutes until it starts to rain again.”

She laughs softly, before returning to her computer. “Are you here to see…”

“Yes,” I answer before she can finish.

“He should be down in a moment.” The curly haired girl leans forward, smiling knowingly. “I heard you went to Dallas.”

“I did,” I say. Though it felt like some sort of a particularly cruel and confusing fever dream.

”How was it?”

It was horrible and at the same time the best summer of my life. I still let my mind wander as I drift asleep, pretending I’m in the Dallas heat. Pretending she’s right beside me. The city was beautiful, filled with laughter and heartache and late humid nights and adventures - and her.

”It was pretty cool,” I smile politely.

Sarah chuckles. ”You even sound like an American now.”

Rookie of the Year. Paige Bueckers. Should I text her? Congratulate her? Does she even want me to? My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a door opening, and a tall man with golden curls and killer dimples walks out with long strides, flashing a charming smile at Sarah and then finally me.

”Good afternoon Mr. Hughes,” she greets beyond the desk.

”It is a good afternoon, isn’t it,” he grins lopsidedly without breaking eye contact with me. ”Hello my darling.”

I wrap an arm around his torso, stroking the navy blue sweater and kiss each of his cheeks to greet him. He does the same, arm remaining around my waist as we pull back.

”It’s good to see you,” he gleams, his grey eyes locked in mine. Bashful under his gaze I nod, letting go as he fetches his coat from the assistant.

”Is it raining?” He asks, throwing on the black trench.

”Lord knows,” I joke, already holding the umbrella in my hands.

With a quick goodbye, the man guides me towards the exit by my lower back, just like he had a million times before.

”I’m ready for a beer,” he murmurs as we step onto the pavement, the wind making its way around the towering buildings and finding its way to my straightened hair.

”Me too Jasper,” I smile, wrapping my arm around his. ”Badly.”

The Ship Tavern is buzzing with exhausted Londoners looking for some after-work downtime, spread out all over the low ceiling, dimly lit pub. The warmth emanating off the walls and people is a welcomed contrast to the windy October evening outside, making people cling onto their coats as they walk by. I sit by the window seat, watching them one by one, clutched bags, hair flowing in the wind, hats held down.

I wonder what the weather in Dallas was like. I wonder if Paige was even in Dallas anymore now that the season was over. It would be easy to figure out of course, just to type 13 letters in the search bar and find a fan obsessed with tracking her down. I won’t do it though. Maybe soon, in a few more months when it didn’t hurt as much. But not yet.

“So I spoke to Dan,” Jasper snaps me out of my thoughts, and I’m reminded of the apple cider and the man sitting opposite of me, sipping a beer.

“What did he say?” I ask almost fearfully.

Ever since Dallas I had been scrambling for a communications job. It felt impossible, even with the experience I had. No one wanted to hire a person who suddenly left her job to run away to another country. Linda might have thought it meant I had guts, here people found me a flight risk.

The curly haired man places the pint down and sighs, looking up at me. “I’m sorry love, there’s no positions open with our firm.”

Groaning, I throw my head onto the wooden pub table making Jasper chuckle, and reach over to pat me on the head.

“He said he'd let me know if he heard about anything,” he adds. “Don’t worry Zari, you’ll find something.”

“But what if I don’t,” I pout, lifting my gaze.

“Well don’t whine for starters,” he jokes and it irks me, but instead of opening my mouth I sip onto the apple cider, letting it warm me up. “What about All Bar-”

“If you say All Bar One I’ll throw this apple cider at you,” I groan. Jasper laughs, shaking his head.

“Alright, don’t fuss,” he says, not taking my threat seriously despite me actually contemplating it. “I mean it wouldn’t be forever, just until you get back on your feet.”

Sighing, I chew on my lower lip. I felt terrified with no plan, nothing to look forward to, nothing left to do but feel sorry for myself. The only constant in my life seemed to be Jasper. Which is exactly why I had reached out to him a few weeks back.

“Don’t do that,” he scolds, but not rudely, in the worrying kind of way he always did, reaching over and brushing his thumb across my lower lip trapped between my teeth so hard it nearly bled. Embarrassed, I smile and grab a hold of his hand, intertwining my fingers with his. Nothing, I felt nothing.

“Give it time,” my mother said when I told her I wasn’t sure if being back together was the right call. “You were both hurt, now heal together.”

She didn’t know. I wasn’t the same, and it had become increasingly harder to be the perfect, no hair out of place Izara once again. But I was trying, because that Izara didn’t move to strange countries on a whim, or get fired from jobs, or fall in love recklessly. That Izara always had a plan - I needed her now. And I knew that Izara was responsible for the call I made to Jasper in August, desperately wanting to salvage what we had.

“It’s not a bad plan if you want to get out of your parents’ house anytime soon,” he says in a sweet tone. “I mean, I’d ask you to come back home but…”

I had been the one to suggest we take it slow - something Jasper resented. But it was that or nothing, and I could tell he was desperate to have me back.

“I know,” I hum, finishing my apple cider and pulling my hands to my lap. “I’ll call my old boss.”

Jasper studies me, leaning back in his chair and brushing his hands through his hair, the expensive watch on his wrist illuminated in the warm lighting as night begins to fall outside.

“I must admit, it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?” I ask confused.

“You,” he admits. “Leaving everything you ever dreamed of behind for a job in America, just to come back home with your tail between your legs.”

“Don’t push me Jas,” I warn him. I’m aware of his tone and the lightheartedness behind it. But what bothered me was that there was some truth to his words. I did give up, I did fail - though I hadn’t admitted the real reason I returned to anyone.

“I’m just saying, the Izara I knew wouldn’t have done that.”

“Well, maybe you never knew me that well,” I push back frustrated. It surprises Jasper. I was never one to argue. But I had changed. I wouldn’t let what happened to me happen again.

“Perhaps,” he mumbles, looking down at his lap. “But I want to this time.”

He looks sad, regretful even. Sighing deeply, I take his hands into mine, squeezing comfortingly.

“It just can’t be like it was the last time around Jas,” I say as quietly as I can make myself heard over the crowd in the pub.

He nods, the dimple on his chin quivering with emotion. “I know Zari, I won’t let it happen again.”

I look at him suspiciously, but his grey eyes disarm me like they do every damn time. My thumb smooths over his rough, big hands.

“I came back because… Well, I hated Dallas.” It’s not true. But it’s my best excuse, and he buys it easily. I know Paige wouldn’t have.

“Of course you did, my sweet London girl.”

We walk hand in hand along my home street, the cherry trees that blossomed pink in the spring now bare and naked, orange and yellow leaves dancing with the wind along the driveway. Despite being only a 15 minute tube-ride away, the contrast between central London and my street was as if night and day, the silence refreshing but bothersome. I didn’t know what to say to Jasper. I have become quiet nowadays, too stuck in my own head. In the memories of past summer. Of Paige.

My therapist said it was better to face my emotions and thoughts head on, instead of shoving them into a dark desolate corner deep inside my brain and never revisiting them as I usually did. And I tried to do that, but surprisingly I had found it to be extremely hard. Which is why I had run back to Jasper - not only was he a distraction, but something familiar and known when everything else felt dreadful. It was the mature thing to do, to accept him back into my life. To soon carry that wedding band and his last name and birth him beautiful children. Because even if all else fails at least I’ll have achieved something to make my parents proud.

“You better not come in,” I chuckle as we reach the gate of the semi-attached, three-story house of my parents. “My mother will never let you leave.”

Jasper laughs, glancing at the white front door. “You’re right. As usual.”

I shrug easily, my eyes flickering up at his before leaning over to press my lips against him. WIth a soft smack we kiss, and nothing. With time Izara, with time.

“I’ll pick you up for tennis on Saturday at 9AM,” he grins. I nod. I hated tennis.

“Sure,” I force a smile. “Goodnight, Jas.”

Hurrying inside, I find my mother standing right behind the front door, nose pressed into the frosted class. She is clearly snooping.

“Mum!” I groan, but she couldn’t care less. She’s beaming, reaching over and giving my cheek a fat kiss.

“Oh I’m so happy,” she beams, squeezing me tight. “Might I expect a summer wedding for next year?”

“Calm down,” I chuckle, my gut anxiously twisting at the idea of a summer wedding - or wedding at all. I hurry into the kitchen for a glass of water to rid me of my nausea.

“Oh you’re always so dramatic,” she jokes. I hate when she calls me that. “He’s just a wonderful man, you must lock him down before he finds someone else.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes as I face away. I wanted to tell my mom about Paige, about how my heart ached every night as I laid in bed wide awake thinking about her. Sandalwood, blue eyes, soft hands.

”We’re taking it slow mum,” I tell her. ”Don’t get too excited.”

”Okay Izzie-Roo, but he won’t wait forever,” she hums like she knows something I don’t, rubbing my back lovingly. ”But I must say that me and your father are so proud of you. For coming back to your senses and coming home.”

I place the plate I’m drying down onto the counter, gripping onto it. My mother hadn’t missed any opportunity to show her disappointment in my decisions. Everyday it was ”oh I wish I had grandbabies already,” and ”You’d be a married woman if you hadn’t left”. All cruel reminders of what life could be - Now I’m starting from scratch. Well, almost. Which is exactly why I was so quick to beg Jasper for forgiveness. I didn’t want to do it again. At least with him I knew what I’d be getting. But I didn’t need my mother reminding me every moment what I let go.

”I’m going to bed,” I simply grunt, turning to leave.

”Without tea?” She asks, turning the kettle on. ”Wow, America really changed you.”

It’s all I could think of as I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom. Perhaps she was right, I just hoped she wasn’t. Because if it was indeed true I wasn’t sure this changed Izara would like the choices I was making right now.

”Good morning babe,” gentle kisses land on my cheek, making their way to my neck and finally ear. Chills run up and down my spine as result, a sleepy groan spilling from my lips. A hand brushes through my blonde hair, long nails scratching down my back. Heaven.

”Mm, Iz,” I whisper into the pillow, burying my face into it.

”What was that?” A voice hums into my ear. It’s not Izzie. Not at all.

My eyes flutter open and I’m met with brown eyes. Not hers.

”Mm huh?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. My mind was still slow and groggy, somewhere between reality and my dreams. Where I met her almost every night.

”I said good morning honey,” Savannah giggles, nuzzling her nose into mine. It grounds me, bringing me back to the now.

”Mm, morning babe,” I murmur, pressing a gentle kiss onto her lips. They’re soft and taste like butterscotch. It’s nice enough.

”You were talking in your sleep, y’know,” the dark haired girl laughs, kissing along my neck and shoulder. I could tell she was trying to turn me on with the way she nibbled and sucked. But I was too tired.

”I was?” I ask bashfully, praying to God it wasn’t anything that might have revealed what I actually dreamt of. Each night. In my restless sleep.

”You’re so cute,” she smiles, placing her lips onto mine. ”You ready for tonight?”

I furrow my brows, sitting up abruptly. ”Ready for what?”

”Paige,” Savannah groans, standing up from the bed. She was already fully dressed, ready to leave for work. I had gotten in the habit of sleeping in after the season ended.

”We’ve been planning on going for weeks!” She’s mad. I can tell. She got mad at me a lot - and I couldn’t really blame her. I was only giving her fragments of me. Truthfully, I didn’t feel whole yet. I don’t know if I ever would.

I roam my mind for anything I might’ve forgotten. Over and over. There was nothing. My dream still had me in a haze. So I merely shrug, looking around. Her gaze is piercing and demanding just like Izara’s. Except it didn’t make me feel the same.

”Don’t shrug at me Paige Bueckers cause I’m not the one,” she snaps cuttingly.

”I’m sorry, I just woke up babe,” I complain, hands still rubbing my tired eyes. ”Just tell me, Sav, please.”

The woman sighs, rolling her eyes but then folds - my blue eyes always enough to get her to calm down.

”The hallo-”

”The halloween party! Nah I knew that!” I exclaim, my mood getting better instantly. Savannah doesn’t like this though, shaking her head and walking out of the bedroom. I follow after the woman. It was too early for her antics right now.

“Sav c’mon, said I’m sorry,” I plead, pulling up black sweatpants with a struggle, almost tripping over my feet.

“Do you even wanna go?” She asks with a huff, finally meeting my gaze.

“Yes.” Not particularly. “Real bad okay?” I force a nod, hoping it’ll pass for excitement.

She looks straight at me and I can tell she doesn’t believe a word I say. I don’t know if I believe myself either. But Savannah, ever so graceful, decides to let it go. Just to make sure, I grab her hand decorated with rings and fine line tattoos, kissing it softly. Her shoulders soften.

“I gotta go to work,” the girl sighs, grabbing her large gym bag. Savannah danced for the Mavericks during the NBA season, though right now she was teaching at a dance studio nearby. What a cliche, huh? The basketball player and the dancer. Of course.

“Have you thought about the costume?”

I bite on my lower lip - anything not to groan out loud. I must have refused a thousand times but she persisted.

“I’m just not a costume typa person, you feel me?” I say as gently as I can. Savannah had wanted to wear a matching costume. I on the other hand thought our relationship wasn’t even nearly that serious.

The woman is disappointed, throwing on a cropped hoodie over her sports bra.

“Not even for me?” She asks, about to head out.

No. “I’m sorry Sav, maybe next year.”

And without a kiss goodbye, she leaves.

I walk back to bed, crashing onto my stomach and burying my face into the pillow. I swear for a moment I can smell Izzie - lavender and pear. But it disappears as fast as it hits me, suddenly gone. Like she was.

I didn’t think about her this much all the time - or at least I wasn’t this aware of it. Me and Savannah made a good couple. We first met the night that I and Izara kissed on the balcony of Arike’s and Lala’s apartment, but she never stood out to me. Not until Satou brought her around to a team hang-out and she sat next to me, doing everything in her power to keep me engaged and talking. At that point I had been devastated for weeks - not sleeping or eating. Barely surviving. Izara took a lot with her when she left. I still felt the loss, some days less and some days more. But Sav kept me focused and distracted. And I did truly care for her.

Like I said, we’re a good match on paper. She’s gorgeous, there’s no denying that. She knows hoops. Gets along with my friends. Doesn’t ask too many questions. She’s kind and gentle. Let’s me be independent. Laughs at my jokes. But sometimes when she grabbed my hand, or kissed my cheek I had to remind myself not to flinch. Not because it wasn’t right, or even nice - but it just wasn’t the same. It was never meant to go past the sheets. But very quickly I realised that wouldn’t be enough for Savannah. And I didn’t wanna lose her. She was the closest I could get to Izara.

”Omg that’s so fun,” Savannah, who’s clapping along to the music, giggles. The pub is buzzing with people dressed in a range of costumes, me sticking out amongst the playboy bunnies and firefighter gear like a sore thumb in my sweats and t-shirt, nursing a dirty Shirley. Sav is clinging onto me, her hip pressing into mine, bare legs on show in her skimpy cat outfit.

“Let’s go dance,” she says brightly, yanking at my arm.

“I’m good,” I give her the smile she wants, my Shirley a good excuse not to go. At least to me.

She doesn’t fight it, but I can tell she’s not happy. Sav had learned quickly enough that pleading and begging didn’t work with me. If I said something I stood on it. It was only a rare few I ever changed my mind for.

Savannah drags Lala to the floor with her instead, grinning at me. I smirk back, watching her dance for a while, until I grow bored of the repeating movements and turn to Arike.

“You good?” She asks, finishing her drink and hissing with the burn of the booze.

“Yea,” I murmur into my drink. “Why?” It wasn’t a question I was used to from Arike.

“Because you been quiet all night,” she chuckles “And Lala gonna kill me if I don’t ask.” The woman puts her hands up defensively, a teasing look in her eye. “But my bad if I’m wrong.”

I glance back at Savannah and Lala, now joined by Satou as well. They’re still busy dancing. Far enough.

“I’m fine I just,” I start, suddenly feeling like I need a big gulp of air. “I had a weird dream I guess.”

Arike turns to me. I had her full attention now.

“About Za-”

“Yeah.” I interrupt. I can’t bear to hear her name.

There’s a pause, just music and voices filling the space we don’t. I can tell she’s trying to find something to say, something I can handle. The topic of Izara had been a sensitive one, and had caused me to walk out of many rooms ever since she left. I can’t believe she just left me. Like I was nothing.

“How are things with Savannah?” She asks, cutting through the silence.

“Fine, I mean,” I mumble, looking for anything to say. I opt for finishing my drink instead. “She’s good. No complaints.”

“She your girlfriend or?”

“Nah, I’m just feeling her out,” I admit. Truthfully she had asked me the same question a week before. I didn’t have a very clear answer to offer.

“You been feeling her out for like three months tho,” Arike points out. And she’s right. Had it really been that long? “You were obsessed with Zari in like a week.”

Her name cuts through me like a knife, undoing a wound I’d been spending months healing and tending to. A sudden ache overwhelms my chest forcing me to rub circles on it, just like Izzie used to when she got overwhelmed. I try to cover it all up with a single laugh.

“Well, that was her. Y’know?”

“Yea,” Arike nods. Silence again. “You heard of her at all? After, y’know?”

I shake my head, nails digging into my palms. I decide to bite on my cuticles instead. ”Not after she texted.”

The day after I was named Rookie of The Year I had received a text from Izzie.

Congratulations Paige, you deserve it.

It threw me into a downward spiral, and made me nearly inconsolable for a week. I had no choice but to stay with Lala and Arike. Thankfully they always welcomed me with open arms. I just felt bad dragging other people into my own drama.

”You?” I ask innocently enough, though I was starving for any sign of her, for any news at all.

”No not really,” Rike murmurs, barely audible over the music. ”But her and Lala call sometimes.”

I’m leaning in. This is the most engaged I’ve been in any conversation all night. Arike can tell, noticing my wide eyes and the focused furrow of my brows.

”Yeah, she’s good. She’s working at a bar right now. Hard to find PR work I guess.”

My heart aches. I know that’s not what she wants and I can only imagine how bad she’s beating herself up over that. I screwed that up for her. If it wasn’t for me she could’ve made it work. But I was selfish. I had to have her. Fuck I miss her.

Suddenly my eyes burn, and the need for fresh air is overbearing.

”I’ma be back,” I tell Arike, completely forgetting about Savannah as I rush out of the bar. Rike doesn’t say a word to stop me, she knows better than that.

Dallas is still warm at the end of October, but the nights are cool enough to make me pull my jacket over my shoulders. People in halloween costumes walk by along the streets, tipsy and giggling. Not a care in the world. Like it didn’t matter that she was gone. Like it didn’t end their worlds like it did mine.

I lean against the wall of the building, pulling my hood up and tightening the strings. I wasn’t in the mood to be recognised. The alcohol had made me nostalgic and forlorn. Or maybe it was the dream - or both.

Hands fumbling for my phone, I unlock the screen and scroll to the messages I had read over and over again.

Iz? Pls answer the phone What tf is this note Ur joking Tell me ur not serious Izzie I can’t do this

I just landed Paige. I’m sorry it has to be like this. Everything I have to say is in the letter. I think it’s best if we don't talk for a while.

It’s the only way I can do this

What about me? Izara please I love you I can’t lose you

I’m sorry

A warm tear runs down the cool skin of my cheek, my lower lip quivering. I do what I always do when I felt like this - when I missed her so bad I could barely breathe. I close my eyes and imagine.

She’s here with me. Her long black hair in those waves I loved so much, long nails scratching along my forearms and the sound of her laughter - God what I’d do to hear it one more time. To hear the pearls of her giggles carry all the way from the opposite side of the room. To find her in a crowd and see her green eyes land in mine.

I miss you

I type, finger hovering over the send button. I don’t know what I want it to lead to. I don’t even know if she would reply - or what she would say. I don’t care. I just want her to know. I need her to know.

So I press send.

”Hey, there you are honey!” Savannah stumbles out of the bar, giggling and gleaming. I push my phone into my pocket, meeting her smile best I can.

”Hey pretty girl,” I sigh, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her in. She melts into me quickly, pulling my hand down her back to her ass. I can tell what kinda mood she’s in.

”Mmh, can we go home baby?” She whines, batting her big brown eyes at me. I chuckle, kissing the top of her head.

I force myself to shift gears. I’ve gotten good at that. ”Let’s go,” I answer, calling down a cab.

”Oh you lucky girl,” Lucy, my coworker groans, looking at the people lining along the bar as I pack my bag to leave. I chuckle, throwing on a cream coloured cashmere sweater over my top.

”The tourists must be around early, I don’t know,” I answer. It had been a particularly busy day, and more people seemed to be piling into the bar. It wasn’t even December yet - tourist season was only getting started.

”Anyway, I’m going home,” I beam, wrapping my beige trench coat around me. ”Got a family dinner waiting.”

”Enjoy your weekend,” Lucy smiles enviously as I head out of the bar. The streets of central London are swarming with people, tourists walking in hives along Oxford street. I follow them, my heels causing my feet to ache.

The clock is only 7 in the evening, but it’s already dark. The Christmas lights twinkle above the buildings, shaped like angels guarding over the crowd. There’s a chill in the air. I should’ve worn my gloves.

I knew I shouldn’t have taken this route when I get to the end of the road. Piccadilly Circus is packed. I let out a frustrated sigh. I should’ve walked to another station - I just wanted to see the Christmas lights.

No matter how I felt inside, Piccadilly Circus feels alive - Like London’s pulsing neon heart. The smell of churros and powdered sugar lingers in the air, fleeting visitors of the city posing for pictures here and there, the residents groaning and rolling their eyes, inconvenienced by the tourists.

Everything’s fighting for your attention, the large billboard bursting with different colours. My gaze lifts on instinct, drawn to the biggest screen. Then I see her. Paige, ten feet tall, smiling under the Nike swoosh like she never left.

I stumble, nearly crashing into the man in front of me. It forces my eyes to glance down at my feet.

”I’m sorry,” I say, looking back up at the billboard. She’s still there with that lopsided grin. A sudden tightness takes over my chest. I have to get out of there.

”More roast Jasper?” My mother offers, handing a piece to the man beside me.

Jasper smiles in that familiar charming manner, rubbing his stomach.

”How could I resist? Your roast was always the best in all of England,” he offers his plate. My mom eats it up, like she always did with him, and piles more food onto it.

”Oh, you’re just trying to flatter me,” my mum giggles.

”Well, I have to find my way back to the family groupchat somehow.”

”I don’t think that’s necessary,” Kiran mumbles under his breath, barely audible. I kick his leg under the table. He wasn’t the biggest fan of Jasper. Matter of fact he didn’t speak to me for a week after I told him I was seeing Jas again.

“I’m sure when we see that ring on her finger again we will consider it,” my father jokes. I immediately put down my fork and knife, too nauseated to eat.

“You can blame your daughter for that,” Jasper points a fork at my parents. His tone is lighthearted, but I can tell there’s truth to the words. It frustrates me.

“Jasper,” I complain, finishing my wine in a moment of anger. Everyone except Kiran looks at me disappointedly.

“It’s only a joke Zari, no need to get fussy,” Jasper says, causing my parents to laugh. Kiran’s and my eyes meet. The old Izara would’ve just brushed it off. But for some reason I was having a really hard time.

With everything he had done there was good in him too. Of course there was, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I just really hated the facade he put on for my parents - and hated it worse when it worked this well. He could be so charming, and so not the next. I just wish he stopped pretending and was himself. I couldn’t help but feel that the only reason my parents tolerated my “mistake” of moving to Dallas was because of how much they adored Jasper. My mom would remind me every day how lucky I was for a man like him. And it’s true. But I wish I was enough on my own.

“More wine please?” I ask with a deep exhale.

“You sure?” Both Jasper and my mum question. Thankfully Kiran grabs the bottle, filling both our glasses.

“May I be excused?” I ask, grabbing the wine. “Long day at work.”

“Sure darling,” My father smiles and as soon as the words leave his mouth I stand up and leave the table.

Sitting in front of the firepit on a pillow, I watch the flames dance gently, crackling and painting my face in a warm hue. I let the wine calm my running mind, still haunted by the shadow of Paige over me.

“You alright?” Kiran’s voice interrupts the image of her face overwhelmingly clear in my head still.

“Yeah,” I mumble, making space on the pillow. He sits beside me, sipping his wine.

“Where’s Jas?”

“Helping mum and dad tidy,” he groans, rolling his eyes and lying back on the expensive persian rug that was my mother’s dearest possession.

“Quit,” I tell him, sick of his attitude. Yes, he disapproved. He has made that clear. It will not change anything. “It’s nice of him.”

“Yeah he’s just great,” Kiran complains dryly. I swat at his leg, finishing my wine.

A comfortable silence settles between us, the crackling fire and the distant clanking of dishes the only sounds in the living room.

“So I saw that Nike ad the other day,” he starts from behind me, awkwardly interrupting the quiet moment. “With Paige, you seen it?”

Her name cuts like a knife, leaving me bleeding and wounded. I can still see her image over me, flashing on the billboards. Those eyes that I saw every night I closed my eyes. She was so far away, yet she was everywhere.

“Yeah, I saw,” I answer. “Pretty cool.”

Kiran sits back up, his hazel eyes filled with curiosity and some hesitation. I had avoided every conversation about Paige since I came back.

“How is she?” He asks. I simply shrug.

“We don’t really talk anymore,” I admit.

He offers me the rest of his wine. I take it. “What happened with you two?”

“Oh nothing,” I lie. “She was a good friend, but I’m not in Dallas anymore.”

Kiran huffs, shaking his head.

“What?” I ask, now my turn to be curious.

He meets my gaze. “I know Iz.”

“Know what?”

“About you and her,” he admits.

My stomach drops, the taste of wine lingering in my mouth bitter and tangy. I put the glass down. To my knowledge he had been oblivious to everything that happened.

“I figured it out in America,” Kiran explains. “And I asked Paige. We agreed you shouldn’t know that I know.”

“Oh,” I say, unsure what to say. And I don’t have to figure it out - Because Jasper walks in and interrupts us with the creaking of the door.

“Shall we head out, love?” He asks, reaching down to pick me up. He had convinced me to come and stay the night with him and quite honestly I wanted to. I needed an excuse not to think of Paige.

“Let’s go babe,” I smile. My brother makes a face of him gagging that only I can see.

“I packed some leftovers,” my mum runs after us to the door as we pack up. “Izara, you stay as long as you’d like.”

“Yes mom I’m 26 if you haven’t noticed.” I laugh, feeling a little tipsy from the wine. The joke makes my dad chuckle, both of my parents waving as we pack into Jasper’s car.

Jasper still lives in the same townhouse, with the same furniture and the same artwork on the walls - all picked out by me. It’s like he knew I’d come back some day. But walking around feels strange, like the shell of what was once a home. It had lost its warmth, something had changed. No, I had.

“You could just leave your things here y’know,” Jasper huffs as he heaves my bag up the staircase, to what once was our master bedroom. “Half of the closet is still free. I can dust it too.”

But I’m in my own world, fingertips running along the expensive sheets on the bed. My bed. I was different back then. Before Paige. She had left a mark that would change me forever.

“Love?” Jasper asks, his hands wrapping around me behind my waist. I’m brought back to earth.

“Mmh?” I ask, his lips beginning to kiss along my neck. I knew what he wanted. It was always the same motions in the same order.

“Will you clean up and meet me in bed?” He asks, hands gently feeling my breasts. I don’t feel much, but the wine has made me more relaxed and willing. So I do as he says.

After taking my time doing my skincare and brushing through my hair, I walk out in the robe I used to wear every night just a year ago. It still fit me like a glove, the satin smooth against my body - sheer but leaving some things for the imagination.

“Wow,” Jasper gasps, sitting up in bed the moment he sees me. He’s turned off the lights. I guess I used to like that. Paige never wanted to. She wanted to see all of me, always.

Feeling bold from the wine, I pull on the tie letting it fall open, all of me bare in front of him.

“I-Izara,” he nearly chuckles at my actions, so shocked by them. It’s a far cry from the girl I was a year ago.

Wordlessly, I walk over to the bed and straddle him leaving the robe scattered on the floor. Completely naked, I begin to kiss his neck. Jasper sighs loudly, gently rolling me to my back to cover us both with the duvet. The routine is familiar. Predictable. Performed.

It’s quiet, the only sounds the kisses between us and the heavy breathing. Jasper runs his coarse hands all over my body. It’s nice to feel someone like this, to have a distraction. Except it doesn’t distract me at all. With every touch, lick, kiss I can only think of her. I try not to compare, but how can I not when the only way I can get wet at all is to close my eyes and hope he stays quiet so I can imagine it’s her.

“Oh,” I whimper, reminiscing of sandalwood and her sure hands that knew exactly what to do. The ones that felt like heaven. And for a moment it feels like I’m far away, the image of her face clear and crisp. I imagine it’s her on top of me, making love to me.

I don’t open my eyes till Jasper is done, and rolls over to his back, trying to catch his breath.

“I love you,” he pants. Without much thought I answer.

“I love you too.”

We lie there for a moment staring at the ceiling and the shadows created by the passing cars. I feel lightheaded and nauseous. Must be the wine.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” I mumble, carefully sitting up and tiptoeing to the bathroom in a t-shirt. I lock the door behind me, but it takes me an entire minute to turn the lights on. Mindlessly, I clean up and wash myself off until I feel too nauseated to stand.

With trembling hands I grip onto the sink and hop to the countertop. Why I felt like this I wasn’t sure. We’d had sex before with Jasper before and it was fine so why was it all of a sudden making me sick to my stomach.

It was that damn ad. It had to be. I couldn’t take my mind off of her. Of course I thought about her constantly, all the time in fact. But it was bearable. At least it used to be.

My phone buzzes against the marble of the counter, pulling me back from the fog. The screen is lit up with a pointless text from Kiran, but I ignore it by swiping up and getting on Instagram. I had completely stopped using TikTok, the edits and speculation of mine and Paige’s relationship was too agonizing.

I want to see her, just for a moment. It’s what I convince myself of as I’m about to tap the search bar. But instead my eyes surge to the suggested post of a gorgeous girl next to Paige, kissing her cheek.

My number 5 <3

I immediately cover my mouth, feeling like I actually might be sick. Kneeling down next to the toilet I take deep breaths to ground myself. In and out. The bathroom tiles feel warm underneath my bare legs. I would rather sleep here than out there.

I had no right to feel like this, yet I did. I look at the picture again. The girl is stunning. I’m just surprised she moved on so fast - but then again so had I. Except I hadn’t really moved on. I don’t know if I ever truly could.

I miss you

I look at the text I received from Paige a month ago, left unresponded. I thought it would be best just to ignore it, likely just a drunken mistake. But right now it was impossible to pretend it wasn’t there.

So I tell her, from the bathroom floor.

I miss you too

The gym smells like rubber mats and metal, holiday music playing faintly in the background. I barely hear, blasting Drake through my airpods and chewing the peppermint gum in my mouth. In the early morning I’m the only one here, tiring out my arms and back one last time before I would take a break for Christmas.

Actually my break was supposed to start yesterday. But I couldn’t stand sitting around in my dad’s house, decorating the tree and baking. I couldn’t have been further from feeling jolly or whatever. I just felt bad because it was hard pretending to be excited. But I tried my best for Drew’s sake.

I stare at my own reflection in the mirror, eyes locked on the movement as I do some lateral raises, focusing hard to target the muscles in my shoulders. Four more, I think to myself, face red and huffing.

From the corner of my eye I see dark wavy hair pushed back, as a woman turns the corner and disappears from my line of vision. The weights nearly drop from my hands.

“Iz?” I murmur to myself, opting out for placing them down gently and processing what I saw. It makes no sense. It’s ridiculous, she’s miles away. I knew that. But God, what if it is her. She even had the baby pink gym set.

Heart pounding in my chest, I walk around the gym trying to find this girl just for the slim chance it is Izzie. I circled the gym three times, blue eyes darting from one corner to another. It has to be her.

I hurry into the women’s locker room, my gym bag and water bottle abandoned by the weights. In a haze I search it too - but there’s no one there. I feel dizzy. I sit down, noticing my heart beating what felt like a million miles an hour. With shaky hands, I tighten my ponytail.

Pulling out my phone, I search her Instagram profile just to prove myself false. And there it is, a picture on her story, undeniably from London. Great. After everything I also seemed to be losing my mind.

The day is spent Christmas baking with Drew and my stepmom, and helping my dad tidy the garage. Everyone seems to be in a good mood about the approaching holidays, but I was somewhere else. Lost in the memories of her. My visions of Izara had left me in a worse state than before. I couldn’t pretend much more.

“And this box needs to go on that shelf. Would you? My back’s been killin’ since…” my dad’s words fade into the background as I stare at the sign on the wall: Let go and let God

It had been there for years, but I had never really seen it till now. Something about it was drawing me in.

“Paige?”

I’m pulled back, my dad’s voice snapping me out of it.

“Yeah?” I ask, turning to face him. He points at a newly packed box.

“Could you? My back,” my dad complains.

“Sure, yeah,” I answer, heaving the box onto the shelf with ease. Despite cleaning for hours, some dust flies off with the impact, illuminated in the setting sun. My dad chuckles, shaking his head.

“Well I guess I’m officially old, got my daughter lifting things for me,” he laughs. “But I guess not everyone’s daughter is a professional athlete.”

“Guess not,” I murmur absentmindedly. My dad looks at me for a moment, studying. It was easy to tell something wasn’t quite right. I wasn’t good at hiding it.

“So,” he clears his throat. “How’s Savannah?”

He’s digging. I can tell.

“Oh, that’s over,” I answer, picking at my cuticles. Nothing could push Izzie away from my mind.

“What happened?” My dad asks, shocked. I merely raise my shoulders.

“Just didn’t work,” I say lazily. I didn’t really care to talk about it. She clearly liked me more than I ever did her, and the public post of us was the final straw.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” he mumbles.

“Have you uh, heard from Izara since she moved back?”

It's entirely the wrong and yet the right question to ask. I open my mouth but not a word comes out. I don’t know what there is to say. Because just saying no was painful enough.

So I burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” my dad is quick to wrap me into his arms, rubbing my back up and down as he comforts me. I cry into his shoulder, tears drenching his shirt but he doesn’t seem to care about anything except making it all okay for me.

“Shh, Paige, you’re okay,” she murmurs. I pull back to wipe my eyes. Concern is written all over my dad’s face.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks.

I hesitate, but I’m too exhausted to keep up the lie. “I miss her,” I whisper, lower lip trembling. I can’t meet my dad’s eye.

“Iz?”

I nod.

“I thought I saw her today at the gym,” I admit. “Feel like I’m goin’ crazy.”

My dad listens intently, nodding with my words.

“I could tell it hit you hard when she left,” he says, rubbing my forearm. His familiar touch grounds me. “I just didn’t know it was still on your mind.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get over her.”

He thinks for a while, the garage filled with my sniffling. “Maybe you’re not supposed to,” he says. “Maybe that’s God’s way of telling you there’s something there still.”

I want to laugh. What a ridiculous thing to frame my obsessive personality as a sign. Though if someone would, it would be my dad. Maybe he has a point. Why wouldn’t God allow me to move on? Why was she haunting me everywhere I went?

“Maybe,” I answer thoughtfully, kicking the small rocks on the concrete.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” My dad asks. I lift my gaze back to him.

“She’s in your head, in your heart - you just gonna mope around about it?” He continues. “Doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”

“I’m not moping,” I defend myself. It’s a lie. I definitely am. “Anyway, there’s nothin’ to do. She’s in London.”

“So?” My dad shrugs. “What’s stopping you from going over there?”

I blink at him, stunned by the question. What was stopping me? Pride? Fear? The fact that it might be too late?

I’m not sure, but I know God wouldn’t be sending me these signs unless it meant something. I just didn’t know what yet.

“I don’t know,” I admit - but something in my head clicks.

It’s already dark when my dad drives me to the airport, the stars twinkling in the sky and guiding me. I wish he would speed a little, not that it would make the plane leave any faster. All this time the distance felt infinite, the ocean felt impossible to cross. Like we lived in different worlds. I never realised only an eight hour flight would take me to her.

I tap the armrest all night, jittery with butterflies. I’m only able to sleep in small spurts here and there, far too giddy for any real rest. The idea of seeing her face both terrified and excited me. I had no idea how I might react. Let alone how she will.

It is right before 3 pm local time when I wake up from my sleep to an announcement by the pilot with a British accent, immediately making me think of Izara.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin our descent for London Heathrow Airport. The weather is cloudy with gusts of wind, the temperature around 6 degrees Celsius - that’s around 42 fahrenheit for any Americans aboard. Now, if you look through the right side windows, you might be able to get a good view of the city. I wish you all a Happy Christmas.”

My eyes immediately dart to the window, watching the views below as the plane curves above London. The pilot is right. I might not be an expert on the city but even I can identify Big Ben and the London Eye all the way from up here. A soft smile spreads to my face and I let out a sigh of relief. She’s right there somewhere. And it’s like my body can tell.

With a suitcase and a duffel bag I read through the signs of the airport. Underground that way. I consider it, but realise what a stupid idea it would be to navigate my way through a strange city using strange public transport when I didn’t even know where to go.

So I opt out for a black cab, climbing into the backseat.

“Where are we heading, Miss?” The driver asks with a heavy English accent. It’s different from Izara’s. I remember her telling me the accents changed a lot throughout the country.

“Uhh,” I mumble, scratching the back of my head. “A hotel. But I’m not sure where.”

“You have no reservation?” He asks, glancing at my reflection in the front mirror. His tone made me feel scolded.

“No sir,” I admit. “But any hotel is fine.”

“Well it is Christmas. The hotels are quite costly and overbooked.”

“I’m not on a budget,” I answer awkwardly. “Any price is okay.”

“Hmm,” the man sighs and I know he’s imposing my disorganised behaviour onto all Americans right now. “Zone 1 or Zone 2?”

I have no idea what that means. He can definitely tell. “Both are okay.”

We begin to drive and it only hits me then and there that I had no plan. No address, no idea where to find her. I was scared to text her, I wasn’t sure she’d want to see me. But I had to start somewhere, and finding a place to stay is the first step.

After a shower and getting dressed, the sun is already setting. Apparently it gets dark early in London. I’m glad I brought my Nike puffer vest though, it was much colder than I expected. My hands tingle as I blow hot air onto them, rubbing them together, looking for a metro station - or I guess underground is what they called it here.

I scroll through Izara’s Instagram feed for any hints for where she might be. But there’s nothing. I feel hopeless, frustrated and stupid. What am I doing? This is insane. I almost turn back to the hotel.

It's then I remember my conversation with Arike and what Izzie had told Lala. About her job at the bar. She talked about that bar all the time - But I couldn’t remember the name for the life of me. Something bar something? Shit. She used to say there was a Christmas market right outside in December.

“Hey, my bad- Are you from here?” I stop a British looking lady on the street. She’s taken back but nods.

“Great well, this is kinda weird but. I’m looking for a bar close to a Christmas Market, do you know any?”

She furrows her brows at me, and for a moment I think she’s about to walk off.

“Well it could be any bar honestly,” she chuckles dryly. “But that sounds like Covent Garden to me.”

The lady can tell I’m confused by my expression. “Okay, so you take the Elizabeth Line to Tottenham Court Road and it’s a short walk from there.”

I forget the words as soon as she says them. Why did all the places in London have to sound so ridiculous? Couldn’t they just be normal.

“Darling, are you following?” She asks. The nickname immediately reminds me of Izzie.

“Not really, I’m sorry,” I admit, a flush from embarrassment and the breeze settling onto my cheeks. The lady laughs, and begins to dig for something in her bag. She pulls out a pocket sized map titled Tube map.

“You’ll learn to use it,” she smiles, suddenly much warmer and friendlier. Perhaps that’s how pitiful I looked - at least it’s how I felt. The lady writes down the station and the words Covent Garden onto the back and hands it to me.

“Take it, I hope you find it darling,” she smiles and leaves me standing with the map.

London is magical on Christmas. There’s faint holiday music playing around every corner, Michael Buble soundtracking the scenery of glimmering lights and red and gold decorations. A group of people are letting out giggles and shouts of glee as they blow faux snow down a roof in Covent Garden, painting a picture of a real winter wonderland. But I can’t enjoy any of it, or even stop for the roasted hazelnuts or mulled wine they sell from carts. I’m too focused on my destination.

I circle the entire market multiple times, with no signs of Izara until I decide this isn’t the right place. The joy of everyone around me, the families laughing, the couples kissing, feels like a cruel joke. Maybe it was time to call Izzie. To let her know I was here.

“I was thinking we should go to All Bar One in Leicester Sq-” The two girls beside me debate their next move, the familiar name of the bar snapping me out of my pity party.

“Excuse me,” I mumble, interrupting them. The girls look up at me - they must be around my age. “Is All Bar One next to like a Christmas Market?”

They blink up at me before one of them answers. “Well the one in Leicester Square is.”

That has to be it. Please God let it be it.

“Is it far?” I ask.

“No, not at all.” They all chuckle in unison. “It’s like a five minute walk.”

“Forreal?” I can’t fight the grin on my face.

“Yeah,” one of the girls smiles. “I can show on maps.”

Perhaps I’m too trusting, letting the girl set up a route for me on my phone. But right now I don't care about anything but getting to Izara.

“Thank you so much,” I beam, grabbing my phone back. Five minute walk indeed.

“You’re welcome,” she smiles. “Sorry if this is weird, but are you Paige Bueckers?”

Shit.

“Errr, yeah,” I murmur. “But I’m not supposed to be here. So let’s keep it hush.”

The girls all laugh but nod. “Don’t worry. Good luck finding it!”

I swear I’ve never taken such long steps as I nearly jog towards Leicester Square, doing my best not to bump into the crowds of people walking like a herd along the streets of London. The five minute walk only takes me half the time, until my eyes land on a Christmas market in the middle of the square - filled with little stalls selling food and trinkets. But I walk right past until I see it. In big golden letters on the pale building. All Bar One.

The butterflies rush to my stomach, and instinctively I pull my beanie off to pat down my hair. A breeze causes goosebumps all around my body but I don’t even notice the cold. I squint trying to see through the tall windows into the bar, but the twinkling lights of the market opposite make it impossible. I better do it now before I get cold feet.

Taking a deep breath, I walk to the door and open it. It’s surprisingly heavy, and I let it close behind me. What hits me first is the warmth of the space, mood lighting flickering against the people and painted walls. It smells like red wine, cinnamon and nutmeg. The faint sound of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas carries over the chatter even though it’s packed. The waitresses and bartenders walk around with bright smiles and a pep in their step that tells me it’s a busy evening. But I’m only looking for one.

And there she is. Meticulously rubbing a wine glass clean of fingerprints, dark brows in a deep furrow and face scrunched in concentration. For a moment I think it’s a dream. I don’t dare to move. I feel frozen, standing there and watching her. And it seems she can feel my presence - because for no reason at all Izara lifts her gaze and her eyes land on mine, softening as they do. And I know it was worth it to come, even just for that.

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#so it goes #lilas writing yaps #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfic #wlw x oc #wlw x reader #wlw #wnba x oc #wnba x reader

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kenzieluvsnanami · 9 months ago

Text

kenzieluvssuguru :: ☆*:.｡.o the roommate (18+) o.｡.:*☆

You were sure you hated him. From the crown of his silky, jet black hair to the bottom of his bunny-slipper clad feet. Everything he did pissed you off. Whether it’s finishing your very expensive shampoo or sneaking bites of your carefully hidden sweet treats, one thing was for certain: Geto Suguru knew how to get and STAY on your last nerve. (f!reader x suguru)

cw *:･ﾟ✧ roommate/no curses/college au, reader is overworked and underpaid 😭, auditory voyeurism? (by reader).. readers basically a cuck (unknown to suguru, sooo dubcon kinda), cheeky suguru/slight humour (cant help myself), dirty talk, OF references, description of the devils tango (but not w reader) and mastúrbation *:･ﾟ✧♡ 3.2k words // part 1 , part 2

He had become your roommate at the beginning of second year. Having an egregiously rich grandmother who liked her grandkids to earn their keep had its perks at times, one of those being the inheritance of a beautifully furnished townhouse that was only a half hour commute from your university.

However, the downside was the substantial cost of maintaining the house. Bills pilled up fast and whilst your grandmother was lounging in Turks and Caicos, you were working multiple jobs: the campus coffee shop on off-days, a drum and bass club on the weekend and tutoring whenever time allowed.

It was

Wearing.

You.

Down.

By the end of the second semester you had enough. Physically and emotionally drained, you sat down and pondered over all the possible avenues of making money - ASAP since energy companies were not necessarily known for their patience and generosity. Whilst starting an OF was firmly out of the equation, it did give you an idea. Instead of selling yourself, you could sell your home! Ok, not the whole house - but there was a spare room adjoined to yours, fully furnished with its own small terrace. A charming, spacious place where many students living on campus dorms would love to be. However, who did you know that was willing to move out this late in second year? Most had already settled into their new homes and were already accustomed to the people they lived with. You tried asking around but unfortunately it was all rejection.

Dejected, you slinked into your critical analysis class that evening, eye bags so heavy they were almost pulling your eyes shut. The tiredness must have put you you some sort of delirious state because when you sat in your usual seat as you pondered over your situation... aloud?!

"you want someone move in with you?" echoed the mild-mannered man beside you.

Confused and slightly taken aback, he asked you to repeat yourself, to make sure he heard you clearly. Rather frustrated, you grumbled out the question not even meaning to ask him about your situation and to your surprise - he actually said yes. Eyes widening and back moderately straighter, you exchanged contact information and asked him to meet tomorrow so you can discuss more.

You had left the lecture shaken out of your fatigued stupor and felt a tinge of regret already. You barely know this man. All you knew was that his name was Geto Suguru, he’s in your class and will be your new roommate in the next couple of weeks. From what you had gathered from your brief interactions, he seemed like a normal person… at least you hoped so.

You knew he was well mannered. Remembering from the time you tripped over his foot, limbs flailing awkwardly - and how he’d lunged out, firmly grasping you by the waist to stop you from falling flat onto your face. As soon as you had steadied, he apologised profusely with slightly flushed cheeks and averted eyes.

He seemed well kept, his full, shoulder-length hair was never greasy or out of place. Either in a half-up bun or flowing freely, it was definitely a cause for envy. He dressed neatly, loose jeans or joggers with a plain tee or sweatshirt seemed to be his staples. Fingernails were slender - elegant, your sideways glances during lectures providing a view of his graceful, willowy hands. Long and dainty fingers gently tapping on the laptop in front of him.

All known factors considered, when it comes to roommates you seemed to have won the lottery. A quiet and respectful man seemed like a few in a dozen in this generation. How lucky were you!

The first few weeks were like a sort of honeymoon period. Sharing a space with someone you didn’t know was as awkward as you would think it would be. Small smiles when you ran into each other in the hallway and if you were feeling bold, some small talk over breakfast before your shared class.

The ice was breaking between the two of you as you slowly adapted around each others routines. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. You were getting more sleep due to the fact that you didn’t have to work as hard to pay your bills (thanks to your dual income) and actually felt like a human being for once.

Feeling human meant that a lot of additional needs had been forgone and most importantly your dormant libido had jumped back alive. That itself was nothing to write home about but it was more so how you came to this realisation which was.

It was 3 months prior, when you had left your room for a late night snack. Wrapped in your hello kitty throw, you softly pattered down the hall into the kitchen. Treats successfully acquired, you walked back into the hall and was greeted with a mass of steam flowing out from the bathroom, a tall figure emerging.

It was your room mate (duh) but in a way you had never had seen him before. His raven hair was deliciously tousled - the messiest you had ever seen it and...

it. was. beautiful.

The towel wrapped around his slight waist exposed his athletic build, deceptively slim but a slight flex allowed you to see the unbridled power hidden within. His ab definition was exemplified by the drops of water falling from the light smattering of hair trailing down to his deep cut V line.

He was absolutely stunning.

You were frozen for more than a few seconds, marvelling at the discovery of this new side to your roommate. He was… heavenly. You didn’t even realise Suguru had fully left the bathroom until you felt a warm gust of air as he swished past you, a drop of water splashing onto your face as he teasingly poked you. You sped back into the safety of your room and slammed the door. He had you salivating like a damn dog by just a flash of his upper body?? Yes, he may have looked good (a bit more than good actually) but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before.

Since that night, the dynamics of your relationship had imperceptibly changed. You couldn’t really describe how in a concise manner but Suguru had definitely changed. He was much more bold - seemingly doing everything in his power to make you flustered.

It first started with him wearing less and less clothes in the common areas of the house. You weren't completely unreasonable, leaving his room in just his red plaid PJ bottoms and those god forsaken bright pink bunny slippers could be excused. After all, this was his new home and you did want him to be comfortable. You just had to be mindful of not staring too long into his plump, juicy pectorals that were practically two small pillows that you could just face plant into. Not to mention the absolute dumptruck he was carrying from behind. During your dinners together (you always ended up cooking way more for yourself than needed), you really had to fight to keep your eyes fixed onto his face as he spoke and even then you’d find yourself being drawn further and further into his deep, purple eyes. Even his voice, calm, even and low was akin to a sirens call, causing you to be further and further enraptured with him.

Why couldn’t you just be normal about your roommate. You know plenty of people who houseshare with the opposite sex and it doesn’t seem to be as hard for them as it is for you. Maybe you just need a quick fuck? Something to get it out of your system so you can stop feeling like so…. lustful during the most regular exchanges.

It was hard to stop thinking thoughts like that when you would come home from a study group or be leaving early for a shift at the cafe to find Suguru slumped over the couch casually watching a telenovela or a 2000s sitcom. This normally would not be any kind of issue if for the fact he wasn’t practically naked par a grey set of loose Calvin Klein boxers.

The first time this happened you were almost late for work, your body physically refusing to move at the sight of his thick thighs, corded muscles tensing as he swung his legs down from resting on the cushion next to him and patted the space beside him - gesturing for you to sit. The soft smile on his face, eyes shut, eyebrows relaxed and seemingly in a state of inexplicable bliss for someone with 12 assignments due that week was all a bit too much for you to handle as you snapped out of your daze and rushed out of the door.

Suguru’s next ‘misstep’ was his use of almost all of your things and general disregard for personal space. He seemed to find joy in watching you put two and two together and realise that the reason why the whole house smells like Shea vanilla is because he “accidentally” used your body wash whilst bathing and so “just had to” grab the matching lotion, body oil and spray from your room - so he didn’t “smell confused”.

To think that this was the same man who was so quiet when he first moved in honestly is beyond human comprehension, his eyes crinkling shut as he laughed with genuine glee about how in the process of looking for the spray he tripped over your charging hitachi wand.

“Is my roommate feeling a bit pent up?” he drawled as he fake pouted, the tips of your ears burning at the fact that the object of your current infatuation knew about what you did in your… free time. “I was wondering what all that buzzing was last night.”

Suguru was comfortable at your shared house. Too comfortable. Which leads us to what happened today, what you considered to be the most egregious misstep by your roommate and would have made you so pissed if it hadn’t made you so wet.

It’s a Friday - nothing too crazy about that fact, it was just the week coming to an end. As your professor informs you of the upcoming assignments for the following week, Suguru leans down to tell you that he might be home a bit later than usual as he wanted to go to a friends houseparty. This isn’t anything too out of the ordinary, you knew that he was quite well known amongst the second years and as a result he was always flitting in and out the house midweek. You didn't really understand why he was specifically informing you of his whereabouts this time but you thanked him and made your way straight to coffee shop to start your shift.

Today was by far the hardest shift you’ve ever had, the sheer volume of people you had to serve and the few staff that were booked in to work. You were absolutely exhausted. You definitely were up for an orgasm or two to destress and your.. personal massager would be fully charged by the time you got home.

Clocked out at 7 and you were currently speed walking back to the house. A warm bath, filling meal and rewatching one of the telenovela’s Suguru had introduced to you sounded like an excellent plan. Just the action of running the bath, pouring the salts and soap and stripping off your stiff uniform silenced all the noise in your mind - you could truly feel the tension rolling off your body as you eased into the bathtub.

After an hour long soak, you made a wholesome pasta dish and binge watched TV until you started to feel your eyelids drooping shut as the day begun to catch up with you. You dragged yourself to your room, the silk sheets and quilted comforter lulling your weary body to a sweet, sweet slumber.

That was until… 1.27am according to your bedside clock. The loud bang of the front door shook you awake but it’s what you heard next that kept you up.

A bang on the hallway wall and what sounded like... kissing? Sloppy and heated, you could hear the mewls and whines of a woman coupled by occasional groans from what had to be… your roommate?

Footsteps got louder and louder until you could hear them through the shared wall between your rooms. The bed creaked as it hit the bedroom wall and you could hear the low murmur of your roommate’s voice. Almost instinctually, you carefully raised yourself up from the bed and pressed your ear to the wall to hear better.

“You’re going to take allllll of it, okay?” Suguru said lowly, the woman giggling as he retorted “Don’t get shy with me now. We both know you were begging for it.”

You knew what you were doing was fucked up. How could you keep eavesdropping on your roommate fucking another girl but somehow you were unable to tell your body, warmth pooling in your core.

The soft thud of clothes hitting the ground was accompanied by the rejoining of the pair, the loud kissing and sounds of scattered bedsheets made you ponder. This was the first time you had ever heard Suguru do anything remotely sexual. He made jokes (mainly to your demerit) about the apparent lack of sex and I mean, you appreciated that he respected the space that the two of you shared by not always having people over or at least doing it when you weren’t home but part of you just innately knew that he wasn’t seeing anyone - serious or casual. That’s why this is so unexpected.. but not unwanted.

See, it had interrupted your much needed sleep but you couldn’t deny how horny this was making you. The fact that you could hear what it would be like to fuck your roommate and the added taboo of him not knowing you could hear - you were almost soaked in your own essence, a hand snaking down to your pyjama bottoms so that you could alleviate some of your pent-up tension.

“Open your mouth” Suguru demanded. A slight pause in movements as you heard what must have been a fat, wad of his saliva splash into the woman’s mouth. “Good girl” he cooed, the woman moaning back in pure, unadulterated need.

You stifled your own whine, the delicious pressure of your fingertips on your swollen nub combined with your roommates filthy, sinful words had you so close. The woman gasped at what you can only imagine being Suguru finally pulling down those grey boxers. Another splash and a steady, slick rhythm began - probably Suguru stroking himself, long slender fingers wrapping tight around his base dragging his hand right up to the tip, thumb swirling to collect any pre-cum to lubricate his shaft even more.

“Please..” the woman pleaded. “Please what?” Suguru chided “If you are going to beg at least beg properly”. “Please..please put it in” she mumbled. “You’re still not asking properly but” A loud squelch and the woman’s even louder moan interrupted Suguru’s almost lazy drawl. He seemed so relaxed, responding back as if he himself didn’t want this as bad as she did. “I’m in a good mood so I’ll do as you wish” he punctuated his sentence with a sharp thrust, the already worn bed frame jolting into the wall as he fully buried himself into this woman.

Her mewls seemed to get even higher and higher in pitch as the two established a steady rhythm. Hand firmly placed along your slit, you toyed with oozing entrance and sensitive clit - middle and ring finger prodding into your hole, scissoring and feeling your inner walls. You gathered some more of your essence and spread it onto your thumb, applying more and more pressure as you swirled your bud. It was like you were in a freaked out flow state, your mind purely focused on achieving that high. You tuned out the shrieks of the other woman and honed in on your roommates low grunts, imaging how tense his abs would be from the sheer effort he would be putting, arms caged around you in missionary as he just plowed straight into you until you both came.

The bed creaks became more and more frequent, your hand moving faster and faster as you heard the woman cry out one last time and start sobbing. It seemed your roommate had slowed down slightly, close himself as the thrusts became more slow and tempered not hitting the wall as loudly. You were so so close, focusing on deep breathing to slow it down so that you could come undone at the same time as him.

As he got close himself, you could hear some sort of low rumble… was he.. whining? You could also hear his murmured praises to his partner “You did so good… thank you so much… your so pretty…ngh.. all…urghh….fucked out…mffh.. like this”. He seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth, so close to the edge. Even though you knew he wasn’t talking to you, all the words just melted into your brain adding to your dazed, enraptured state. You couldn’t hold out any longer, fingers moving into overdrive as you reached your peak and fell head first into the mind-numbing pleasure of release as you heard Suguru’s muffled cry as he came.

As the static from your ears started to clear and you were finally able to come back to earth from that earth-shattering orgasm, you could hear a slightly more heated conversation happening in the adjoined room.

“What the fuck was that” the woman whisper shouted while pulling on her clothes. “What the fuck do I know??” puffed your roommate as he seemed to pace around the room. “You just groaned another girls name as you came Suguru. That’s fucked up.. Seriously?” You could practically hear the sheepish look on his face as the door banged for a second that night.

How can he moan another girls name whilst he’s balls deep inside of her? I mean thinking back you may have heard him say your name but that was just because you were in a freaked out flow state, right?… right?

And that’s why at 3.09am you had come to the solid conclusion that you hated Geto Suguru. He was obnoxious, used your stuff AND had the cheek to mock you for what’s in your room but most importantly he fucked a girl and said your name whilst he came. Not only did he hurt this poor girl but he left you even more confused. Where do you even go from here? Did he know you heard the whole thing? Even if he did what does this change? Your hot roommate maybe does want to pipe you? This should be a good thing but for some reason you know it’s going to be more complicated than that...

part 2

a/n *:･ﾟ✧♡ :: credits to @/cafekitsune for the dividers! part 2 shld be done by the 10th (no promises 😭) but i lowk do want to drag it out to a three parter.

likes and reblogs make me squirt!

#kenzieluvssuguru #kenzieluvs #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen suguru

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honeypiehotchner · 4 months ago

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The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part eleven

Back to our regularly scheduled chaos 🫶🏻

Warnings: angst, reader is just really down on herself in this one sorry guys, Hotch being so strangely sweet for once, but then Hotch being down on himself (these two are a fucking wreck i wish they'd just TALK IT OUT)

Hotch doesn’t give you the day off after this case, but when you walk into the bullpen the next morning, you wish he had. For no particular reason other than you weren’t able to sleep, and dread seems to have made a home in your bones overnight.

And, of course, everyone notices.

“Oh,” Penelope’s frown looks out of place among her bright outfit. You hate that you’re making her frown. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you reply instantly, flashing her a smile. “Just exhausted.”

She doesn’t seem too satisfied with your answer, but wraps you in a hug all the same. “If you need anything, come see me. Okay?”

You squeeze her tightly. “Thanks, Pen.”

She pulls back and lightly pats your cheek. “Anytime.”

Morgan comes sauntering over with his coffee, eyeing you both cautiously. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Garcia saves you the grief, turning to rest her hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Just telling her to come bug me when you guys start boring her to death.”

Derek laughs. “Riiight.”

Garcia heads back to her office with a flourish, something about needing to do her own paperwork to justify all the hacking she did for this last case. You dump your things down at your desk with a sigh.

You try to discreetly look up into Hotch’s office to see if he’s here. When you glance back at Morgan, you see he’s caught you red-handed.

“Looking for someone?” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, busying yourself with putting your things away. “Is Hotch in yet?”

“Not yet, we’re the early birds today,” Morgan says, propping himself on your desk like he belongs there. “Why?”

I’m trying to avoid him at all costs, why else? “Just curious.”

Morgan hums. “Alright. Well, no, he said he was taking Jack to school this morning, so he’d be in late. You would know that if you didn’t put yourself in time out on the jet yesterday.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m gonna start up that tally again,” Morgan jokes.

“Be my guest,” you mutter through a small smile.

Morgan goes quiet and that scares you, because you know exactly what’s coming next. Goodbye Joking Friend Morgan, hello Serious Big Brother Derek.

“Hey,” he says, leaning toward you. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You nod. If only everyone who says that knew that you can’t. “Yeah. I know.”

“‘Kay. Good.” Derek nods as he slides off your desk, returning to his own and leaving you alone.

Reid whirls into the BAU next, nose in a book, nearly taking himself out when he stumbles into Morgan’s desk. So, a typical morning for him.

JJ and Emily come in next, coffees in hand, having run into each other again on their morning commute.

Rossi next, stopping by your desk to ask how you’re doing. He doesn’t press when you say you’re fine and heads up to his office, leaving you alone.

Then, there’s Hotch, who comes in with his phone pressed to his ear, a frown on his face. He doesn’t even glance toward the center of the bullpen as he practically floats up the stairs into his office, shutting the door.

You share looks with the rest of the team. Reid grimaces. He must’ve read his lips through the office window. He goes back to his book without saying anything.

You return to your paperwork, scanning the text. It’s necessary, and you know why you have to do it, but that doesn’t make any of it less boring.

Next to you, Emily leans back in her chair. “You should join us for coffee tomorrow before work.”

You lift your head, your eyes slowly trailing over to her to make sure she’s talking to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “JJ and I always end up at the same place, we should get there a little early and have breakfast.”

“Uh, hello?” Morgan pipes up, pointing his pencil between himself and Reid. “What about us?”

Emily inhales sharply through her grin. “Sorry, girls only.”

“Alright, I see how it is,” Morgan laughs. He turns to Reid. “Hey kid, wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

“Why?” Reid asks without looking up. “The BAU has free coffee.”

Morgan sighs. “You’re not helping.”

Reid still doesn’t look up, but his lips stretch in that little smirk he always gets when he pushes Morgan’s buttons just for fun.

You turn back to Emily. “I’d love to. Where?”

She lists off the name of the cafe and then pauses, “Oh my god, I need to add you to the group chat.”

“Group chat?” Reid looks up this time. “You guys have a group chat?”

“Girls only,” Emily says again, looking down at her phone.

“Is Garcia in it?” Morgan asks.

“Duh,” Emily replies. “There.”

Your phone buzzes. Emily added you to Women Only. You snort. “Thanks.”

Garcia sends a few hearts and other emojis when she sees you’ve been added to the chat. You laugh quietly before returning to your paperwork, even though you’ve read the same line probably fifty times by now.

The conversation carries on around you, with Reid even chiming in here and there, but you’re mostly silent. You know it’s unlike you, so you figure it’s a matter of time before one of the profilers calls you out for it.

But they don’t, because they don’t get a chance to.

Hotch calls your name from the second level. You lift your head, eyebrows raising. You find him standing just in the doorway to his office, nodding his head for you to come up.

Just great. Great.

You’re too tired to offer any protests, so you stand immediately, taking your lukewarm coffee with you as you head up the stairs. You don’t need to glance down at the bullpen to know the team’s eyes are on you.

Hotch seems to notice, too, because when you walk into his office, he draws the blinds.

You freeze in the doorway. This can’t be good, if he’s purposefully trying to prevent Reid from lipreading. He normally doesn’t bother.

“Come in,” he says quietly, rounding his desk. “Sit, please.”

You’re being fired. You’re sure of it.

Still, you shut the door, eyeing him warily as you sit across from him. You place your coffee on his desk so you can clasp your hands together.

“So?”

Hotch tilts his head. “So?”

“What’s the reasoning?” you ask. “I’m assuming I’m being transferred or terminated, whatever we’re calling it these days.”

If you aren’t mistaken, his expression seems to soften. Just barely. “I’m not firing you.”

You sit back. “Oh.”

“Why would you think I’m firing you?”

“Why would I not?” you shrug. “We don’t get along, I’ve done nothing but cause problems — that I will admit—”

“Stop,” Hotch almost looks pained as he cuts you off. “Stop. You’re not causing problems by being here.”

You stare at him tiredly. “You know I hate it when you lie to my face.”

“I’ve never lied to you,” he replies, just as tired. “And I’m not lying now.”

You’re not convinced of either of those things. “Okay.”

He sighs, leaning onto his elbows on his desk. “I know we don’t…get along, as you said, but you are a valuable asset to this team.”

“Hotch, my first two cases, both unsubs have gotten away.”

“Is that what this is about?”

You don’t know. You don’t know what any of this is about. “I guess. Look— I’m just not on top of it today. I’m tired.”

“Do you need to go home?”

You glare at him. “No. I said I’m tired, not that I can’t work.”

“Just clarifying,” he mutters, leaning back in his chair to study you.

It makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You hate the way he looks at you, like he knows something about you that you don’t know yet — or that you don’t want to know. Because knowing him, he’ll say it out loud, and then you’ll have to deal with it, and you don’t want to.

You think for a fleeting, terrifying moment that maybe Rossi told him about your father, but Rossi wouldn’t. Right?

“It’s not your fault,” he starts, but he keeps his eyes trained on his desk. “That the unsubs have gotten away. We got Lila back home safely, and that counts for something.”

You hum, uncertain.

“We don’t always catch the unsub,” Hotch continues. “We help where we can, and sometimes that has to be enough.”

“It’s not, though,” you shake your head slowly. “It’s not enough.” You look over at him, that anger still simmering like always. You’re tired, but it doesn’t take much for it to spike again. “I still don’t think we should’ve left them.”

“I did what I thought was right and I stand by—”

“What if it was wrong?”

“I’m not going to sit here and argue what if’s with you,” Hotch snaps, voice firm and tone final. “I don’t have to explain my decisions to you.”

“No,” you reply, pushing yourself to stand up. “But you could at least act like you care about your team’s opinion of you.”

You get to the door before you pause, eyeing the closed blinds. You turn around as you cross your arms over your chest.

“What was it you actually called me in here for?”

Hotch barely shrugs. “I just wanted to check in with you after the conversation we had yesterday.”

You roll your eyes. Highly unlikely that that’s the only thing, but fine. “Sure.”

Hotch sighs tiredly. “Here we go,” he says under his breath.

Might as well tease him. “Just saying,” you give him a wicked look.“You better be careful. Kinda starting to make me think you like me or something.”

He scowls at you. “Go back to work.”

You’re laughing as you leave his office.

+++

Hotch stares at your coffee on the edge of his desk. You forgot to take it with you. He could call you back in here to get it. Or let it get cold and get rid of it later. Or he could take it to you.

He needs a fresh cup anyway.

He grabs his mug in one hand, yours in the other, and heads out of his office. You’re already back at your desk, laughing at something Prentiss said. Hotch feels the corners of his lips trying to tug upward, listening to your laughter. He doesn’t hear it often, especially not like this. Carefree and light. He’s used to the sarcastic, condescending laughter that you usually give him.

His frown returns with that thought. He’ll never be the cause of this kind of laughter from you. Not as long as you seem to have him at the top of your shit list. It’s been a decade, so he doesn’t expect that to change.

Shaking the thoughts away, he heads down the stairs to drop your mug off on your desk with a silent, “You left this,” like he did with your jacket just over a week ago.

He doesn’t hear you say anything as he strides past you and everyone else to the coffee machine at the edge of the bullpen.

Hotch loves his team for many things. Their subtlety is not one of them.

He can hear them whispering, all trying to figure out what you and him discussed and why the blinds had to be drawn. None of them believe you when you say it was nothing.

For what Hotch had originally planned, yes, the blinds needed to be drawn. He wanted privacy to ask you about your father.

But how was he supposed to bring up your father when your first thought was that you were being fired? When your first thought is that you’re doing more harm than good by being here?

Regardless of how much pleasure you seem to find in pushing his buttons, he couldn’t let a member of his team go without addressing those kinds of thoughts. You’re a valuable addition to this team. If you weren’t, you never would’ve been hired by Strauss, let alone by him.

It’s bad luck, sure, that these last two cases haven’t ended the way they’d like. But that’s no one’s fault, and certainly not yours alone. It just happens. They can’t save everyone, solve every case quickly and easily. Nothing is neat and tied in a bow in this field. He needs you to understand that. Because if you don’t, you won’t survive.

And he needs you to survive.

Hotch turns around to head back to his office, pausing to raise an eyebrow when his team scrambles cartoon-style to “act natural” — as if he has no clue they weren’t watching him.

He loves this team, he does. He shakes his head as he walks around them.

He feels your eyes on him, though, as he ascends the stairs. He glances down at you and you avert your eyes masterfully. If he didn’t know you so well, he wouldn’t have known you were watching him.

Hotch is too busy looking at you to notice Rossi has stepped out of his own office, and the older man gives Hotch an equally skeptical look when Hotch nearly crashes into him.

Rossi follows Hotch into his office, shutting the door behind him.

“What’s with all the secrecy today?” Rossi asks, gesturing to the closed blinds, tugging one down with a smirk as he makes eye contact with Prentiss. He lets it snap back into place.

“Nothing,” Hotch replies, settling back down at his desk. “You can open them.”

Rossi doesn’t.

Instead, he stands in front of Aaron’s desk, hands shoved in his pockets. “Did you tell her?”

“She’s still here, so obviously I didn’t,” Hotch mutters, looking up at his friend. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Rossi says, turning to open the blinds.

Unsurprisingly, the entire team, except for you, is caught in their attempted eavesdropping. Rossi laughs as he turns back around to face Aaron.

“Warn me before you do? I’d like some time to prepare to get out of here before you get a chair thrown in your face,” Rossi says.

Hotch stares at him. A chair will be the least of his worries when he eventually confronts you.

His eyes flick to you down in the bullpen, focused and content, swatting Morgan away when he tries to toss balls of paper at your head. Hotch doesn’t want to ruin this, the joy you’ve found here.

But ever since the first day you met, that’s all Hotch has known how to do. Say the wrong thing and make you hate him. Over and over.

It’s no wonder you push his buttons so much and fight so hard to get under his skin. It’s not like he can’t understand. It’s a vicious cycle with the two of you, and there’s no way out.

At least not one where no one gets hurt.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch fanfiction #hotch fanfic #hotch angst #aaron hotchner angst #angst angst angst #The Gambit

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luvvyouforever · 6 months ago

Text

drivin' on 9 - aaron hotchner x reader

synopsis: you seem to be the only person who can get aaron to make reasonable decisions. such as not driving an hour commute after exhausting himself on the most recent case.

content: fluff, will they won't they, yearning, aaron can't take care of himself, driving, minor angst like aaron gets just a little fussy. made up details about where aaron lives. specific genre of music mentioned (chose my fav) but you can fill in with whatever you like!

word count: 2452

author's note: titled based off my fav song by the breeders. thank you guys for enjoying my most recent hotchner fic!! here's another <3 p.s. if you live in washington dc, my details are probably wildly inaccurate.

you weren't exactly sure what it was. this connection between you and aaron hotchner. what had been building for the two years you had been a part of the bau has amounted to something that you had never felt with another person before. there was a comfort there, a care there, that allowed aaron to always choose the seat next to yours on the jet, allowed him to pick you to be by his side on cases, and allowed him to let loose, even just a little.

neither of you had really brought it up yet, but you felt like the little touches to his arm or shoulder or knee and gazes from across the room said something. they had to.

the way he had just protected you from an unsub's bullet today had to mean something too. and if it didn't, you weren't sure you were cut out to be a profiler after all.

it was an exhausting case, as most of them are, but this one seemed particularly strenuous on aaron. every day was spent dealing with high profile lawyers, crying and angry families, and the unsub was only getting more impulsive by the day. aaron, being the unit chief and former lawyer, took on the brunt of the work. he didn't have to, truly. you offered multiple times to help, but each time he dismissed you and the rest of the unit.

it ended with a pretty unexpected shootout in the middle of the unsub's home. despite aaron's hesitance to let you follow him inside, you crept down the hallways of the home back to back, clearing each individual room. when you hadn't expected him, the unsub shot his gun and suddenly you were down to the ground, aaron's arms and body shielding you.

perhaps it was divine intervention that made the next pull of the trigger produce a satisfying click that gave aaron plenty of time to take down the unsub and hold him there with handcuffs. you were still shook up, but on the way out of the home and back to the jet, you couldn't help but think about aaron saving you.

now, most of the bau shuffles back into the bullpen, having arrived late at night. the clocks on the wall told you it was nearing one in the morning and while you were able to manage half of a nap curled up next to aaron on the jet, you knew he didn't. you could see the dark circles under his eyes and every step was labored.

as the rest of the bau slowly left the bullpen through the night, aaron remained. it was a rare night when he left his door open and from your desk, you could watch him wipe his hands down his face and yawn despite his best efforts not to.

it was heart-clenching, really, knowing all he did to keep this team running smoothly. but you knew at the same time that aaron needed sleep in his bedroom. however, a man that exhausted shouldn't drive. that you were sure of.

when you had gotten to a good stopping point in your report, you closed the files, placed them into a locked drawer, and shut off your computer. quietly, you packed up your bag and left your desk to head to aaron's door. upon hearing your footsteps, he looked up.

"you need to go home and get some sleep, aaron," you said. first names were a rare thing held just between the two of you. around the rest of the group, it was last names as usual. "let me drive you home."

aaron shook his head before you were even able to get out your last few words. "no. strauss is on me about getting these reports done as quick as possible. i'll be fine, y/n. you can go home," he responded. even his voice was strained with the need for sleep.

you stepped further into his office, coming close to his desk. "they can wait till tomorrow morning. i'll help you get them done quickly and if she has anything to say about it, let me talk to her."

aaron opened his mouth then promptly closed it. underneath his desk, his hand flexed. he was exhausted. "i'm okay. go home."

"i'm not leaving-"

"y/l/n, you don't get it. this needs to get done. i can't go home and get them in tomorrow like the rest of you can. so just go on and let me work," he said harshly. a second passed and he sighed.

two years of encouraging aaron to keep a work-life balance has led you to handle moments like this. he worked himself to pure exhaustion, then lashed out. it didn't make you run. instead, your feet were even more firmly planted on his office floor. you kept your gaze on the man in front of you. "i know you didn't mean that. you're exhausted, aaron. please let me take you home. you're in no shape to drive."

he placed down his pen, finally, and leaned back the slightest in his chair. "i'll go home, but you're not driving me," he said. "it's out of your way. you don't know what neighborhood i live in and-"

"georgetown," you interrupted him. he raised an eyebrow and you could've swore that there was the smallest uptick of his lips. "i've seen you at the whole foods on wisconsin ave like three times now. i live on 35th street." it's true. you were always too nervous to approach him on those rare weekends you caught him grocery shopping.

aaron let out a breathy laugh. "i live on prospect street," he said before pausing for a moment. "i'll have to take the train in the morning to get back."

"i can drive you back in the morning," you said effortlessly.

"i get here earlier than you."

"then i'll wake up earlier."

"i don't want you to-"

"oh my god, aaron hotchner, will you please just let me drive you home tonight so i don't have to worry about you passing out at your desk or trying to drive home and crash because you fell asleep at the wheel? please?"

that was all it took for aaron to finally put away his files in a similar fashion as you and turn off his own computer. he grabbed his own bag, threw his jacket over his sleeve, and gestured for you to begin the walk.

"finally," you whispered.

once you and aaron had left the office, he locked it behind him and wordlessly followed you out of the office and to the elevators. a comfortable silence washed over the two of you as you waited on the elevator to ding! then send you down to the parking garage. once it did and you reached the bottom floor, you found your car rather quickly considering the deserted nature of quantico.

"nice car," aaron offhandedly mentioned. "newer model?"

your car chimed as you unlocked it and opened the back door to throw your bags in. "yeah, used most of my first paycheck after being promoted to the bau on a downpayment."

aaron opened the passenger door and climbed in. his tall frame made his legs fit a little awkwardly, but he eased into a comfortable position then buckled in. you turned the car on and sighed as the heat from the vents started relaxing your tense muscles.

as you backed out of your parking spot and left the garage, you hit a few buttons on the stereo which started to play one of the cds loaded into it. it was soft at first, but cautiously, aaron reached forward to turn the volume up.

"tango in the night? fleetwood mac?" he asked through another yawn.

you nodded and smiled his way. "mhm! i think it's their best album. i mean rumours is great and so is their self-titled and tusk, but this one's been my favorite for a while."

he hummed and sat back in his seat, eyes gazing out the window. the music filled the silence nicely, being just quiet enough that aaron's yawns still permeated the silence, but loud enough that the purring of the car's engine didn't become annoying.

the drive ahead wasn't long, especially since the roads were emptier at this time of night. having aaron in your car was a nice addition, though, and you were glad to have been able to safely take him home rather than let him work himself to death in his dark office. he seemed glad to with the way he almost half nodded off in the passenger seat.

you didn't mention it, but instead let him feel relaxed for the first time in over a week.

"i didn't think you'd listen to fleetwood mac," he said all of a sudden, as if he had been thinking it over in his head.

"why not?" you asked.

he shuffled in his seat to turn more towards you rather than towards the door. "i'm not sure," he said honestly. "guess i just don't think about what other people listen to. i just assumed you listened to the radio."

"assuming makes an ass out of you and me, aaron," you said. he chuckled and leaned his head against the chair's support. out of the corner of your eye, you could just barely appreciate his jawline highlighted by the streetlights you drove past. "i know what you listen to."

"oh, yeah?" he teased. you weren't sure if his voice deepened there, or if he was becoming sleepier by the minute.

"mhm," you answered. "you love the beatles."

"i do," he confirmed. "i'm guessing you don't just make assumptions about people."

"no, especially not people like you." the words came out before you processed the meaning behind them, but he didn't make any response to them. they hung in the air, adding on to the thick, yet enjoyable, tension in the car. "whenever you listen to music on the jet, i can hear it next to you while i'm sleeping."

"you can tell me to turn it down, you know?"

"i know. why would i do that, though? you're doing something you enjoy. which you should do more of, by the way."

"i'm doing something i enjoy right now," he said.

despite your attempts to keep a stone face at his words, your lips turned into a small smile. he must be really sleepy to be letting these words fall from his mouth so carefree. or maybe a night time drive alone with you is what he needed to finally put words to all of the unknown between you.

"we can carpool more often, aaron. you can say you like my car and its heated seats if you want," you tried to joke, but his face held something more serious. you tried to ignore it as the city came closer and closer.

"what's your favorite song on this album?" he asked.

"is this an interrogation?"

he shook his head. "just curious about you."

"probably welcome to the room. or big love." he was silent for a second. "good picks?"

"good picks," he said and left it at that.

the car fell into silence for another bit, but it was evident that aaron was thinking in the passenger seat. you tried to avoid his pensive gaze and focus on navigating the streets of dc to get closer to his street. slowly, the album came to a close and the stereo immediately shifted into the next one.

"hey, we're getting closer to prospect street. can you let me know which is yours?" you asked, clearly interrupting his thoughts. he sat up in his seat and pointed towards a townhome towards the end of the street.

"that one."

slowly, you pulled off and parked the car in front of his home. you gazed up at the townhome, noting the dried plants in front of the door and a skeleton decoration in the window, no doubt left over from halloween. when you looked back at aaron, he hadn't made a move to leave yet.

"we're here," you said awkwardly.

he bit his lip, then with a sudden resolution, he shifted his entire body towards yours. "i know that i'm really exhausted, you were right. i could not have made that drive and i'm grateful for you taking me home."

"of course, you-"

"but i want you to believe what i'm about to say, okay?" your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded nevertheless. "i know you're feeling whatever this is. i tried to ignore it for a while, i really did, but i feel really comfortable and happy and at peace with you. and i haven't had that in a long time. i was really scared earlier. when you almost got shot." he took a deep breath. "i think i really, really like you. and if you don't feel the same, if i've read this wrong, you can tell me and i won't be hurt."

you stared at him, floored by his confession. it was one in the morning, parked outside of his house, and aaron hotchner just told you that he liked you. that he really liked you. words were difficult to come up with. in fact, it felt like your entire vocabulary had vanished into thin air. so, instead, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

it was a painfully soft kiss. you were unsure if this was fine, that you could kiss him like this. he was your boss after all. but after a second, aaron's lips moved against yours. then his hand met your cheek and it was so warm on your already flushed skin. the kiss could have lasted for much longer, but the painful need to breathe forced the two of you apart. you rested your forehead on his and your breathing mingled together.

"what time do you need me over tomorrow morning?" you whispered.

"i'm actually thinking of a different plan," he whispered back.

"do tell, aaron."

he removed his head from yours and fished his keys out of his bag. "i'm thinking that i'm going to go in there and grab stuff, then come back out here and get back in your car, and stay over. for convenience sake."

"i don't think i've ever heard a better idea, aaron." he smiled, cheeks warm and slightly pink. he surprised you with a quick kiss to your cheek then stepped out of your car. aaron hotchner practically walked up to his door with a bounce in his step while you were left in your driver's seat with a goofy grin adorning your features.

the two years of tension had been well worth it.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #thomas gibson #aaron hotch x reader

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jadeshifting · 5 months ago

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— TRAVELING THE MULTIVERSE vs TRAVELING THE WORLD

( a long-winded title for why you should never be scared to post about your niche, less-well-known or original DRs )

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

let’s be real: everyone and their mom is obsessed with jetting off to new places in the world. you know—scrolling through Pinterest boards of Paris cafes, watching vlogs of someone’s Bali retreat, or dreaming about backpacking through South America. we love soaking in the mystery of somewhere we’ve never been. but here’s the kicker: the multiverse is the ultimate travel destination, and it’s just as exciting to hear about someone’s niche desired reality as it is to hear about their trip to Rome

so why do shifters with “niche” DRs keep holding back? you think people only wanna hear about Hogwarts or being famous? PLEASE—we want to know about the far-off corners of your imagination—the places we didn’t even know existed until you opened your mouth. sharing those “off-the-beaten-path” DRs is like dropping us a postcard from another universe, and we fucking live for that

PASSPORT TO POSSIBILITY

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

in this reality, getting a passport is your ticket to explore the world. but shifting? that’s your multiversal passport, babe. and guess what? it’s got unlimited stamps

think about it—just like every country on Earth has its own unique vibe, culture, and history, every DR in the multiverse is brimming with flavor. you’re out here specifying realities with details so rich you could practically smell the street food or feel the cobblestones underfoot. why would you hold yourself back from sharing that kind of magic?

picture this: someone casually tells you they’re shifting to a DR where everyone speaks in rhymes, the skies are lavender, and the economy runs on fruit trading. that’s wild. that’s fresh. that’s kind of a great idea, scripting it right now—that’s the kind of content i need more of. don’t undermine your own creativity. the multiverse is endless, and your DR might be someone’s next “bucket list destination”

EVERY DESTINATION HAS A STORY

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

let’s talk travel bloggers for a sec, for the sake of examples. the best ones? they don’t just tell you about the tourist traps; they give you the juice. they show you the hole-in-the-wall cafe with the best fettuccine, or the tiny town with the down-low annual festival. and that’s exactly the energy i get excited for when you’re talking about your DRs

take Hogwarts, for example. we all wanna know what it’s like to sit in the Great Hall or attend Potions class (trust, we do), but if your DR is, say, a small coastal town in the Wizarding World where you run a little bookshop and spend your weekends drinking enchanted tea by the sea—i’d flip a table to read about that. it’s the details that make a place come alive, whether it’s in this reality or the one next door

your DR doesn’t have to be flashy or “mainstream” to be fascinating. in fact, the more specific and personal it is, the more i’m gonna eat it up

CULTURE SHOCK, BUT MAKE IT COSMIC

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

when people travel, one of the most exciting parts is witnessing and experiencing new cultures. trying new foods, hearing new languages, learning customs that are totally different from your own—it’s all part of the adventure. shifting is a similar deal, but on a cosmic scale

(eyeing those of us with completely original fantasy DRs) maybe your DR has a society where time doesn’t exist, the sky is a different color, or you’re going to work alongside trolls and fairies. maybe in your DR, everyone has a telepathic connection to their past. or maybe you’re in a city built on floating islands where people commute via hot air balloon. give it to me, NOW

don’t underestimate how fascinating and cool your DR sounds just because it doesn’t fit the typical mold. people love hearing about the unfamiliar—whether it’s a country they’ve never visited or a reality they’ve never even imagined

THE TOURIST TRAP MENTALITY

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

you know how everyone and their dog wants to see the Eiffel Tower, even though some people say it’s overrated? it’s totally natural to seek out common experiences, to want to experience and enjoy the same things others are raving about. people, including myself, often gravitate towards the most common DRs (especially when you’re just starting out shifting, and you’ve been given a ticket to the multiverse that you’re trying to make digestible)—Hogwarts, MCU, fame DRs. they’re familiar, there’s tons to read about them, and they’re beyond easy to romanticize. don’t get me wrong, those DRs are classics for a reason, but they’re certainly not the only stops on the multiversal map

your DR might not have a castle or superheroes or any magic at all, but it’s got you—your story, your vision, your unique little slice of the multiverse. and if you’re wanting and willing to share it, there’s always someone out there who’s gonna vibe with it hard—probably countless people. trust me, people are dying to hear about the realities they never even knew existed

SHARE THE JOURNEY, NOT JUST THE DESTINATION

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

part of what makes travel so fascinating is the stories people tell about getting there—the long flights, the missed trains, the odd stories in airports which are basically liminal spaces. shifting is the same way. it’s not just about where you’re going; it’s about all the intricacies of getting there (read: scripting, basically programming your destination into the GPS)

did you script a whole language for your DR? did you spend hours designing the perfect house? did you practically write a novel of the love story between you and your partner? that’s the good stuff. that’s the behind-the-scenes content that makes your DR feel real and relatable, even to the people that aren’t shifting there—to us, it’s like tugging back the curtain on the most creative film of all the time and showing everyone how it was done. you multiversal mastermind

THE BOTTOM LINE: YOUR DR IS YOUR POSTCARD TO THE MULTIVERSE

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

every DR is a little piece of the multiverse that you can bring to light. it doesn’t matter if it’s niche, weird, or completely out of left field. the more unique it is, the more people are gonna wanna hear about it

so stop worrying about whether your DR is “cool enough” or “popular enough.” share it. rant about it. paint us a picture of the world you’ve built, the life you’re living, and the adventures you’re having. because just like with travel, the most unexpected destinations are often the most unforgettable

post about whatever DRs you want !! i wanna read all of them. xoxo :^)

#shifting motivation #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting antis dni #hogwarts dr #shifting blog #shifting to hogwarts #shifters #shifting script #hogwarts scripting #shiftinconsciousness #shift #shifting consciousness #shifting realities #shifting #shifting community #shifting to harry potter #shifting diary

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callixpene · 4 months ago

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Random thoughts in the middle of the night #2

MOST TO LEAST WEALTHY L&DS LOVE INTEREST

(This is based purely on my observations. I think all of them are wealthy, but some definitely more than others)

1. WEALTHIEST: SYLUS

He's the big boss of the N109 Zone. Makes BIG BUCKS off his illegal Protocore/Weapons-dealing business(probably has several other related/unrelated businesses as well).

Owns several properties within and outside the N109 Zone, a private jet, a yacht, etc. Stays in the Presidential Suite in one of his Memories(I forgot which one lol). Didn't even blink when MC bought every single Protocore at the auction(practically encouraged her to spend way more that she had to so he won't look broke 😂). Has a black card. Has his own tailor as he's mentioned that his clothes are custom-made. Has a private chef.

Safe to say, Sylus is probably billionaire-level rich.

2. RAFAYEL

Second wealthiest. Definitely old money rich. Definitely makes a lot of money selling his paintings to his rich clientele. Modern famous painters make millions per painting(and it is heavily implied in the game that Rafayel is one of the most well known painters out there, so the mans' definitely making BANK per painting🤑).

Owns a mansion/art studio in Whitesand bay. Has a Ferrari (probably has a collection of luxury vehicles, gives off that vibe). Opera singer as well, definitely makes a pretty penny doing that too(given he's literally a SIREN). Wears primarily designer clothing and has other designer things(like how his phone case is LV).

Rafayel is probably multi-millionaire rich.

3. ZAYNE

Third wealthiest. The average annual income of a cardiac surgeon is about $360k - and since it is heavily implied that Zayne's the best of the best there is, his salary is probably on the higher end so he probably makes about $400k annually.

Drives an Audi. Owns a big, modern house in Linkon City.

Zayne comes from a family of doctors. He's probably lower-upper class wealthy.

4. CALEB

Fourth wealthiest. An air force colonel's salary is about 130k annually( I think this is the closest real-world profession to a Farspace Fleet Colonel).

Owns a big, modern house in Skyhaven. Drives a Lambo.

Caleb is about upper-middle class wealthy.

5. XAVIER

Had to put him last because it is incredibly hard to gauge how wealthy he is😅 He is the best hunter in the Association(can't find a real-world equivalent of that so I can't come up with a salary estimation).

Lives in an apartment complex. Takes the train/commutes to get to places.

Xavier in general seems like the type of person who doesn't care about showing off his wealth or spending money on expensive things. Who knows? He might have loads of cash saved/stashed somewhere after living for a couple hundred years.

For the limited information we have on him for now, I'm classifying him as middle-class to upper-middle class wealthy.

Who guys think is the most to least wealthy LI?

#l&ds #love and deepspace #l&ds rafayel #l&ds sylus #l&ds xavier #l&ds zayne #love and deepspace mc #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace xavier #l&ds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace zayne #lads rafayel #lads caleb #lads zayne #lads xavier #lads sylus #lads

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reidrum · 4 months ago

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now you’ve got me thinking about slow dancing with spence n how he would be so out of his comfort zone at first but then when he realizes he just gets to hold u as tight as possible while swaying to an old timey jazz tune he relaxes into it n maybe even lets his head fall on ur shoulder so u can run ur fingers through his hair (aka the best method to get his mind to stop racing) :((((((

okay YES because evidence #A spencer dancing with maeve in his dream and then he just melts into her oh im sick BUT…

(this REALLY got away from me oh my god apologies…)

it’s funny to me cuz in my head i see this turning into a bit of a pavlov situation like stay with me for a second.

spencer reid does not dance, and not because he doesn’t want to but because the opportunity never really presents himself and it’s not something he thinks was ever needed in his life. he’s in the fbi they travel so much there’s maybe like two bureau events that are maybe solid excuses for dancing but even he’s able to evade them if needed.

but spencer reid loves music and specifically loves listening to classical music and old jazz in his stringed earbuds on the way back from a case or on his commute in the metro. and you know, because he just is so burdened with knowledge he feels the music so deeply in his veins because he can analyze the time period the content the musicality of it all and understand it in a way deeper and more intellectual way than anyone would understand obviously.

then you walk into his life and suddenly spencer reid has met his match and he’s so flabbergasted by your ability to argue back his points on the history of jazz or what the influence of classical composers really meant for the future of music and he can’t tell if he’s intimidated by you or in love with you but he decides it’s the latter when you both share his earbuds flying back from a case and you fall asleep on his shoulder to the soft crooning of duke ellington

fast forward you and spencer reid are dating now and moved in together and learning to coexist with each other which is when he finds out that in the confines of solitude you both enjoy music very differently. spencer reid loves to sit on the couch or his desk and have the record playing in the back deep in thought of the complexity of the lyrics and occasionally singing out a few lines here and there, fairly sedentary with it. you, however, love to play it in the background as you move about the apartment doing chores and menial things, dancing and swinging along to the jazz beats.

spencer reid loves to watch you dance and move about the space especially when you can’t tell he’s watching because well one, duh it’s so cliche of course he loves that, but two you have this sort of calming air to you that spencer reid didn’t really know existed or even needed in his life until he met you and things just started feeling lighter and less tight with you around.

and so it becomes a little routine even though along the way you’ve caught him watching and have tried to get him to join you but he says no because he just loves watching you be full of joy. spencer reid is honestly a little embarrassed of his dancing skills and would rather save himself the horror of tripping over his two feet and falling into you. not that you’d ever judge him of course, he knows you love him.

it continues like that until one day it’s a really bad case, silent on the jet ride back honestly no one’s in a decent mood to do anything but sleep so no music no cards no conversation just silence. and it’s heavy even when you both reach home and silently part ways to do your own thing—spencer reid will go take a long hot shower and finish laundry for the both of you and you’ll go to the kitchen and figure out something to make for dinner.

you’ll eventually get too in thought about how quiet it is and go put a record on and slowly let the music revive you as you continue to make dinner. spencer reid finally emerges from the shower feeling like the hot water has knocked all his defenses down and he just desperately needs to be with you right now or else he’ll implode. he’ll walk into the kitchen and hears your soft singing mixing with ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong’s cheek to cheek with your hips swaying gently to the beat, and it’s like he can literally feel his heartbeat slowing down.

it’s at this point spencer reid feels like a moth to a flame with how easily his feet carry him to you, wrapping his arms around your waist while he molds his body against you resting his head on your shoulder. you startle for a moment and then relax into him continuing to sway to the music, unintentionally making him move along with you. spencer reid will then startle for a minute but immediately relax into you again when he realizes all he has to do is hold on to you, something he knows he is very good at.

he’s not at all shocked at the calming effects this contact has on him, he knows the statistics of how joint proximity skin to skin contact contributes to suppressed sympathetic nervous system response. spencer reid is more shocked at the mental blockage that prevented him from indulging himself, almost in offense that deprived him of how easy it is for you to regulate him back down to normal.

so now, when spencer reid puts on a record you don’t startle anymore when a couple minutes later strong arms snake around your waist, occasionally turning you around to be face to face but not always, and rests his head in the crook of your neck after a long day. it’s not surprising when he molds himself to you like he always does and you just move to the melody in the room together. you know the drill at this point, a subconscious response whenever you hear music in the apartment.

spencer reid should have known that during the times his mind becomes too much for him that letting you hold it and him while slowly dancing would be the perfect remedy.

#spencer reid headcanon #i yapped too much #sorry

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felixbit · 8 months ago

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meet cute

── flufftober day sixteen, masterlist tbd kim seungmin x gn!reader w. 0.4k

A late train commute was never particularly pleasant. Work had asked you to go far and booked you a last minute hotel. You decided to bite the bullet and get on a night train, planning on getting reimbursed later.

You'd packed up a large bag of things and arrived at the station, quietly loading onto the train with the rest of the nighttime residents. The seat you booked was pretty close by was nice enough and had a window view, so you couldn't be mad.

You especially couldn't be mad when the seat across from you was filled by a very attractive guy.

It usually wouldn't really register who was sitting across from you other than a few key words, but this guy was different. Jet black hair, beautiful eyes, and this smile he quickly hid under his sleeve when looking at his phone.

You would've taken your focus off him to get some rest, but you were just enchanted. He didn't have anything that made him stand out in a crowd, but his features were just perfectly made. Plainly put, he was hot.

Who were you not to shoot your shot? A few minutes after the train left the station, you saw him set his phone down and look out the window.

Clearing your throat had his attention shift over to you, and you gave him a polite smile. "Hey."

He looked suspicious for a minute before giving a small nod. "Hello."

"What's your story?" You asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," You shrugged, "What has you on a train at this hour?"

"Ah," He nodded and leaned back a little, "Work. Can't escape it."

Your brows raised. "Crazy. Me too. Some sort of conference in the morning and their other person got sick.. so I'm the last minute replacement."

"Ah, that sucks," He smiled again and you almost felt faint, "My thing isn't until midday, but I thought I'd just get there early anyways and rip the band-aid off."

"I'm lucky, I'm getting accommodation for free at least. Plus, they paid for the transportation. Guess it's their way of saying 'sorry for doing this'."

He snickered. "I wish my work paid to take me places."

"Upside of having a start at nine in the morning, I guess," You nodded, "What's your name?"

"Kim Seungmin."

"Well met, Kim Seungmin," You looked out the window and gave him your name, "When we get to the city, maybe we could grab something to eat after work."

Seungmin's eyebrows raised. "Yeah, that could be nice. Would you like my number?"

"I'd love it."

#kim seungmin #seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fic #seungmin skz #drabbles #flufftober

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uranometrias · 1 year ago

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my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

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The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

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