#this took way too long and i dont want to look at it for another second

[winterscaptain]

professional courtesy.

...or berry hill (aaron's version) Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: hello it’s me from beyond the veil i’m sorry i haven’t updated this in three years, but enjoy! i figured i’d warm up from my hibernation with a long-requested installment. (i dont want to hype myself up too much but the discord girlies about died)

words: 17.3k (damn) warnings: language, a far less vague mention of aaron’s anatomy (masturbation in the shower, nothing too extreme), alcohol, the vibe is self-loathing, catholic guilt™

summary: “i go itchy with want, thin on sleep. i feel her fingers in mine. the way we could be both hard and soft on each other. her sandy voice calling out as i climb one exposed cliff after another. ... all night this all goes through me, the four hours of sleep i get.” - kawai strong washburn, sharks in the time of saviors. december 6th-12th, 2010

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

It’s way too late and you both know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Jessica and the rest of Haley’s family, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. Aaron sits back in his chair, a soft smile on his face as he watches you kick back in one of the chairs in his office, your feet on his desk like you own the place. 

The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. If Aaron were an honest man, he’d have a few problems. The first, though, would be how much he missed JJ. He, of course, knows and understands the importance of her role, but he didn’t anticipate that losing her to the State Department would feel more like losing a limb. He knows you feel similarly - he’s seen the way you look up in the office and in the field, the ghost of her name on your lips. 

That aside, he’s in the middle of a story - one that took place just before Jack left for the lake. “...And then I found the actual writing on the wall.” He clarifies, seeing your furrowed eyebrows. “He drew on the wall.”

“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full on mural?”

He loves the way you love his son. It’s palpable to anyone who sees the two of you together - the love that Jack has for you and the fierce, consuming love you have for him in return. 

If he thinks about it too hard, he can imagine how seamlessly you could fit into their lives, how faithfully and seriously you would step into your role in Jack’s life. If he thinks even harder, he can imagine sleepless nights beside you, caring for the children you share. 

So he doesn’t think too hard. 

“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”

“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID. “Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. 

Aaron watches you go, taking another grape. He can’t hear what’s said on the other line, only your reply.

“Oh, not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows, catching your eye. “Work?” he mouths. You shrug playfully, pulling a face, a light, lovely smile just for him. He smiles when you turn your back.

You’re doing anything but work right now. 

Work was over…

He checks his watch. 

…Nearly three hours ago. 

Is it that late already?

“So what’s up?”

There’s a pause while your friend speaks. When you reply, you sound defeated. Aaron’s brow crumples and his feet come off the desk. He sits forward, not really meaning to eavesdrop, but he is anyway.

I hope everything’s okay…

“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” 

He watches as you tip your head up to stare at the ceiling. He can hear the tears in your voice. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.” 

Oh no.

“It’s okay,” He hears you say. He knows it isn’t, but you’re a good friend. The last thing you’d want is for someone to feel bad on your behalf. 

Too damn bad and too damn late. 

Aaron starts to think. Time off work could be for anything - it sounds like an event? He got (and approved) your leave request ages ago. Maybe a vacation? 

Maybe I could… 

No. Don’t go there. 

There’s something in his head screaming danger! danger! danger! at the possibility that you and he could be somewhere alone for an extended period of time. It’s not that he doesn’t trust himself (really), but he’s not sure he’s that good of an actor. 

“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then. Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up quickly and rest your forearms on the railing. Aaron watches your head hang, watches you swipe at your face and take a deep breath. 

He watches as you fruitlessly try to maintain the frivolity and decadence of the moment before, sitting in your same chair with your feet up and a cluster of grapes in your hand. 

It doesn’t work. Aaron sees right through you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times. 

He squints at you. “What’s wrong?” 

“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off. He can see there’s more to say, but you’re holding back. 

It’s more than you’ve ever shared about your time in college, certainly more information than he’s ever had about your dating history. You’ve been through so much together, Aaron almost finds it odd that he’s never asked, but his curiosity is squashed by guilt. 

It’s been years…and he’s never asked. 

All those moments you’ve shared, the horrors and the joys, and he never thought to ask about something as simple as a college boyfriend? 

Maybe because it’s inappropriate, Hotchner. Ever think of that? 

He’s never asked Derek about his college flames, or Emily about her first kiss or anything of the sort. Why does it feel so odd with you? 

He knows. He just won’t admit it to himself. 

“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset. 

This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all. 

That’s enough. 

You scoff, still trying to shake it off. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

He smiles a little. You completely missed his point.

The smart choice is to let it go—to offer some reassuring sentiment about how you’d be fine on your own, that you are more than capable of handling an awkward situation. And yet, he can’t ignore the weight behind your words, the way your shoulders have drawn just a little tighter, how your voice cracked when you first answered his question. His instinct to protect, to ease whatever discomfort you’re feeling, is strong—always has been. But it’s tangled up in something else, something quieter, far more dangerous. His fondness for you, his respect, his attraction — lines that had once been clear but have blurred over time into something he wasn’t sure he can still call professional. His ability to hold those boundaries is tenuous at best, these days, and this would only make it worse. But then you exhale, soft and resigned, the fight to downplay your disappointment slipping away. 

And, really, what was one more bad decision?

“If you wanted…” He hesitates, debating how to phrase it, but you beat him to it.

“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.”

Your hands fall away from your face, eyes searching his. He keeps his expression even, waiting.

“Really?”

“Really. I can get the weekend off—things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?”

You look a little stunned. “It’s, ah—it’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” You hesitate. “It’s about a three-and-a-half-hour drive.”

He nods, pulling out his phone to check the route. “If we leave early, we can switch in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.”

Your smile is small but genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.”

Warmth spreads through him at the ease of your acceptance—at the way you don’t second-guess his offer, don’t try to talk him out of it like he was making some grand sacrifice. You’re just… happy. Glad to have his company. And that shouldn’t mean as much as it does, but it settles somewhere deep in his chest, steady and certain.

He clears his throat, nodding as he glances back at his phone. “If we get on the road by seven, we’ll have plenty of time to stop if we need to.”

You hum, thoughtful. “You’re gonna regret offering when I make you stop for coffee every hour.”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “I think I can manage.”

+++

He hits send on his brief email to you (no subject, just a come see me when you can - ah) and leans back for a moment, rubbing a hand over his jaw. It’s the middle of the day, but it already feels much later. 

Hotch’s desk phone rings, the director’s name flashing on the tiny screen. He sighs before answering.

“Hotchner.”

“Aaron,” the director greets, his tone brisk. “I wanted to go over the paperwork from your last case. I received your after action report and the folks down at records supplied the rest.”

Hotch straightens. “Of course. Was there an issue?”

“Not an issue, exactly,” the director hedges. “But there are a few inconsistencies between your initial report and the final case file. I need clarification before this goes any further.”

Hotch exhales slowly. “I assume this is about jurisdictional oversight.”

“In part. There’s also a discrepancy in the timeline of the suspect’s apprehension and when the local PD filed their report. It’ll need to be accounted for.”

He had anticipated as much. A minor issue, more bureaucratic than substantive, but one that requires correction nonetheless.

There is a knock at his door before you swing in, one hand gripping the doorframe. Your movement is easy, familiar—Hotch is thrilled that you never hesitate in his office, never second-guess your place here. It’s a good quality. Confidence without arrogance.

Stop it. 

Hotch lifts a hand, beckoning you inside. You step in and close the door behind you, waiting patiently near the couch on the far side of his office.

“...No, sir, that won’t be an issue. I’ll review the reports and send the necessary adjustments this afternoon.”

The director says something else he’s not really listening to with any depth, distracted by the way your eyes wander out the window, the sun catching your face in the light…

Stop it!

A pause. The director said something nice, something he needs to respond to as soon as he pulls his head out of his ass. “Understood. And I appreciate that. I’ll pass that along to the rest of the unit.”

“Thanks, Hotch. Have a good night and get home safe.”

“You too, sir.”

He sets the phone down, lacing his fingers together as he regards you. “Question.”

You drop into the chair across from him, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.”

Hotch levels you with a flat look, but his eyes betray his amusement. He can’t let your ability to make him laugh go to your head. “Funny.” You smirk, but he ignores it, pressing on. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”

A short huff of laughter leaves you. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”

“Yes,” he says, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”

The reasoning is sound—practical. Coordination suggested cohesion, something seamless and intentional. It’s a subtle but effective advantage. He had seen juries make unconscious associations based on far less.

That was the only reason he asked. Definitely no ulterior motives. 

+++

Aaron descends the stairs from his office, phone pressed to his ear, the steady hum of the bullpen grounding him in the familiar rhythm of the day. Outside, the snow is falling in thick, lazy flakes, dusting the base in a quiet hush. Jack had launched into a continuation of the story he’d started earlier in the call—something about a rabbit nearly the size of his backpack darting across the backyard. He had, apparently, spent the better part of the afternoon watching from the window, hoping to see it again.

“You’ll have to tell me if you see it tomorrow,” Hotch says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe it’ll come back looking for more crumbs.”

Jack hums thoughtfully. “Maybe I should put out some carrots.”

Hotch chuckles, “That might work. Just don’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t come back. Wild animals don’t always stay in one place for long.”

“Yeah,” Jack sighs, clearly unconvinced. “But it was really cool.”

“I bet it was,”

Jack hums his agreement, then shifts gears, asking to speak to you. Hotch is already on his way toward your desk.

You’re in the middle of a consult with Ashley, walking her through your approach with the same steady patience Emily once used with you. Hotch’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and you glance up at him.

“Yeah?”

He pulls the phone from his ear just long enough to say, “Jack wants to talk to you.”

Your expression softens, a small smile playing at your lips as you shake your head. With an apologetic glance toward Ashley, you take the phone from his hand.

“Hey, kiddo,” you greet easily. “How’s Grandpa’s house?”

Hotch can’t hear Jack’s response, but he doesn’t need to. The way your face lights up told him everything he needs to know. He catches a few words here and there—aunt, snow—but mostly, he hears the warmth in your voice, the way you so easily match Jack’s enthusiasm.

“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too.” You assure him. “You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.”

Another pause, then your voice, quieter, almost absentminded, as if the words had slipped out on their own. “I love you too.”

You hand the phone back without looking at Hotch, refocusing on Ashley as if nothing had happened. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to—”

Hotch takes the phone, walking back toward the stairs.

Jack’s voice calls out as soon as Aaron greets him again. “Bye, Dad!”

Hotch feels a quiet pang of affection as he lifts the phone back to his ear. “Bye, Jack. Let me talk to Aunt Jess.”

There’s a shuffle on the other end, and then Jess’s voice comes through, bright and teasing. “Well, he’s having the time of his life, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Hotch huffs a quiet laugh. “That’s good to hear.”

“He’s been an angel,” Jess continues. “Which, honestly, is shocking, considering my family has zero faith in your parenting skills.”

Hotch lets out a real laugh at that, not bothering to argue. “I think that has more to do with you and—” He catches himself, shaking his head. “With the people he has around him.”

Jess hums, but doesn't press. 

+++

The crystal decanter clinks softly as Dave pours a generous measure of scotch into Aaron’s glass. He slides it across the polished wood of his desk, then leans back in his chair, swirling his own drink with the practiced ease of a man who has lived (at least part of) his life in leisure.

“So,” Dave begins, his voice laced with amusement. “You gonna pretend we’re just drinking in companionable silence, or are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”

Aaron inhales slowly, lifting the glass to his lips. He knows Dave isn’t asking about the Orioles game yesterday. “Nothing is going on.”

Dave scoffs. “Oh, please. I’ve known you for too long to believe that. Tell me.”

Aaron shakes his head, gaze fixed on the amber liquid in his glass. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Dave leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Uh-huh. And that’s why you look at her like she hung the moon?”

Aaron’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t need to ask who Dave’s talking about.  “She’s a valued member of my team. Just like you, or Morgan, or Prentiss, or Reid.”

“She’s also someone you’re clearly crazy about.” Dave takes a sip of his drink, watching Aaron with knowing eyes. “I mean, come on, Hotch. You really think I haven’t noticed?”

Aaron stays silent.

Dave smirks, using his hands now for emphasis. It’s absurd. “Let me paint you a picture. She walks into a room, and suddenly, you’re not the unshakable, unflappable Aaron Hotchner anymore. You’re—what’s the word? Present. Engaged. Maybe even happy, if I squint.”

Aaron sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dave.”

“I’m just saying,” Dave continues, undeterred. “If there’s nothing there, then I’m a damn fool. And we both know that’s not the case.”

Aaron hesitates, then, almost reluctantly, admits, “Maybe there’s something.”

Dave grins like he’s just won a bet. Maybe he has. “Knew it.”

Aaron shakes his head again, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrays him.

“So what’s the problem?” Dave presses.

Aaron takes another measured sip before answering. “Jack, for one. It’s too soon after Haley. I have to be careful about—”

“Careful about what?” Dave interrupts. “Being happy? It’s been two years, Aaron.”

Aaron shoots him a look. “About how this affects him.”

Dave softens slightly, nodding. “Fair. But have you considered that maybe she’s already a part of his life? That maybe Jack — God forbid — actually likes having her around?”

Aaron doesn’t respond.

Dave tilts his head. “And let me guess — your other concern is her?”

Aaron lets out a slow breath. “There’s fourteen years between us, Dave.”

“Oh, give me a break. You were born in November—that’s practically thirteen years.” Dave waves a dismissive hand. “You’re acting like you’re twice her age.”

“She has a career to think about,” Aaron continues, ignoring him. “A reputation. If there were even a whisper of inappropriate behavior… or a conflict of interest, the whole team would get torn apart. Just imagine what Strauss—”

Dave groans. “Aaron, you are the most upstanding man I’ve ever met. If anyone tried to imply something inappropriate, they’d be laughed out of the room.”

Aaron still doesn’t look convinced.

“And as for the age thing,” Dave goes on, “she’s a grown woman. A brilliant, capable woman who—let’s be honest—doesn’t take crap from anyone, including you.”

That earns him a faint smirk from Aaron.

“She’s not some kid with a crush,” Dave says. “She knows exactly who you are, baggage and all. And let me tell you something—you might be able to fool yourself into thinking this is just one-sided, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

Aaron stills, his lowball glass touching his lips. He recovers, taking a sip in what he hopes is a nonchalant fashion.

Dave raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. Thought that might get your attention.”

Aaron shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

Dave studies him for a long moment, then leans back with a sigh. “Hotch, let me ask you something. When’s the last time you let yourself want something just because it made you happy?”

Aaron doesn’t answer.

Dave nods knowingly. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He takes another sip of his drink, then points at Aaron. “At some point, you have to stop talking yourself out of the good things in your life. Otherwise, you’re gonna wake up one day and realize you let something incredible slip away.”

Aaron looks down at his glass, turning it slowly in his hands.

Dave smirks. “Just think about it, is all I’m saying.”

Aaron sighs, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

“That’s why you love me,” Dave says, raising his glass.

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh and clinks his glass against Dave’s, but he says nothing.

Dave takes a slow sip of his scotch, eyeing Aaron over the rim of his glass. Then, as casually as if he were asking about the weather, he says, “So… Any plans to spend time together outside of work?”

Aaron sighs, already anticipating where this is going. “She asked me to go to a wedding with her next weekend.”

Dave’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”

“As a favor,” Aaron clarifies, setting his glass down with a firm clink. “Nothing more.”

Dave makes an exaggerated show of nodding. “Ah. A favor. Because obviously, of all the people she could have asked, she just happened to land on you.”

Aaron gives him a look. “It’s a professional courtesy. And I was right there, so it was probably just convenient.” He leaves out the part where you didn’t ask outright, knowing his offer is damning evidence that would only prove Dave’s point.

Dave outright laughs at that. “Oh, that’s rich. Hotch, if this were any other woman in your life, you would’ve given her some excuse about being too busy with Jack or the job. But you didn’t.” He points a finger at Aaron around his scotch. “That means something.”

Aaron shakes his head. “It doesn’t.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” Dave says, smirking. “But since you’re doing this grand, selfless favor, tell me—what’s your game plan?”

“My what?”

Dave leans forward. “Your approach. This is the perfect opportunity to figure out where she stands, and you’re not about to waste it, are you?”

Aaron sighs. “Dave—”

“Nothing untoward, of course, nothing unprofessional,” Dave interrupts. “Just a little fact-finding mission. See how she responds to being close to you—seizing the opportunity to dance, for example.”

Aaron exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “I’m not—”

“Why not?” Dave cuts in. “It’s a wedding. It’d be weirder if you didn’t.”

Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous,” Dave counters, “is pretending there’s nothing there when it’s obvious to everyone else. Just consider it—see how she reacts to you in a setting that isn’t life-or-death. Give yourself permission to look for the signs.”

Aaron doesn’t respond right away, and Dave knows he’s planted the seed.

After a moment, Dave smirks. “At the very least, you get to have a nice weekend out with a beautiful woman. Not exactly the worst way to spend a few evenings.”

Aaron sighs, finishing off his scotch and repeating, “You’re relentless.”

Dave grins. “So you’ve said.”

+++

Aaron sits alone in his armchair, an ill-advised finger of bourbon in his glass. He’s sure he’s had more to drink this week than in the previous five years combined.

There’s something, even now, that leaves him feeling unsettled when he’s in his apartment alone. Maybe it’s PTSD, maybe something less pathological, but it’s nevertheless uncomfortable. 

Maybe you don’t like to hear yourself think. That’s an option, Hotchner. 

The voice that narrates his thoughts isn’t always his. When it’s critical or snide, it’s almost always his father. 

Maybe he should work on that. His mouth twists and he takes another sip, letting the liquor roll across his tongue before warming his chest. 

Drinking bourbon is an art form at the most, a learned skill at the least. He’s almost certain it was a required item for law school, but he couldn’t quote the statute. 

He’s stalling, avoiding both his (far too reflective) thoughts and the phone call he needs to make. It’s just you. Why is he so nervy all of a sudden?

All of a sudden. Right. Like I haven’t been that way this whole time. 

There is some irony in creating artificial distance between him and the one person who can reliably calm him down. What, then, happens if you’re the thing freaking him out?

No. Aaron Hotchner does not freak out. Become subject to the whimsy of his neuroses, sure. Fine. Let’s call it that. 

Neurotic. Sure. 

He exhales, rolling the tension from his shoulders. The house is quiet now, still—a stark contrast to the nerves humming under his skin.

It’s just a wedding. A favor for a friend.

And yet, as he reaches for his phone, he knows that’s not the only reason he’s calling.

The line barely rings twice before you answer. “Yeah?”

The tightness in his chest eases immediately and he feels even sillier for putting it off. “Hey, it’s Aaron.”

“Ah, my saving grace,” you say, a smile in your voice. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”

His lips twitch. “Not even close. Is 6 a.m. still good to come get you?”

“It’s so early.” The dramatic whine earns an actual chuckle from him, surprising even himself. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

A pause, then: “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you, and I don’t want you to feel pressured or—”

He doesn’t let you finish. “Enough,” he says firmly, calling you by name. “I offered, remember? I’ll see you at six. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a quiet, “Thanks, Aaron.”

He knows you’re not just thanking him for the reminder.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you add, after a beat of silence.

“Of course.” He hesitates, then adds, “Sleep well.”

The call ends, and he stares at his phone for a moment before shaking his head and setting it down.

He doesn’t sleep much that night, either.

+++

At 5:55 a.m., he pulls up to your driveway expecting to have to knock, maybe even call. Instead, you’re already outside, standing on your porch with a pillow under one arm and a travel mug in hand.

He blinks.

You look only mildly worse for wear, but you’re ready. And you have coffee.

His mouth twitches. “You’re awake.”

“Barely.” You step forward, holding out the travel mug. “Thought you might want this.”

He takes it—along with your suitcase, because he won’t let you carry it. “Thank you. Jump in.”

You don’t argue, sliding into the passenger seat and immediately wedging your pillow between your head and the window.

Aaron tosses your bag into the trunk before getting behind the wheel. He glances over as he starts the engine, and his chest does something strange at the sight of you, curled into yourself in an oversized sweatshirt, already half-asleep.

He shakes his head, exhaling as he backs out of the driveway.

Just a wedding. Just a favor.

Aaron has always been good at compartmentalizing. It’s a necessity in this line of work, the only way to keep from drowning in the weight of it all. But this morning, he finds it harder than usual to box up his thoughts and shove them aside.

He blames Dave.

"Any plans to spend time together outside of work?""This is the perfect opportunity to figure out where she stands.""Seize the opportunity—see how she responds to being close to you."

Ridiculous. This—the drive, the wedding, the whole weekend—isn’t about that. It’s a favor, nothing more. You need a date, and he is more than capable of stepping in.

So why does it feel like something else entirely?

Aaron lets out a slow breath, glancing to his right. You’re curled against the window, your pillow wedged beneath your head, still fast asleep. Your sweatshirt is too big for you, the sleeves bunched up where your arms are tucked close to your chest. Your face is relaxed, peaceful in a way he rarely sees when you’re awake.

Something shifts in his chest.

Would he have offered this to anyone else?

Emily? Maybe. JJ? Possibly, depending on the circumstances. But would he have gone out of his way to clear a weekend, to ensure they didn’t have to face something alone?

No.

He knows the answer, even if he doesn’t want to.

He knows you’re different, and that frustrates him. Confuses him.

Would it really be so bad to… pay attention? To see if Dave is right?

His hands tighten around the steering wheel. It doesn’t matter. There are too many reasons this is a terrible idea.

Jack. The team. His own grief, still lurking beneath the surface, no matter how much time has passed.

A year and change, almost two, has passed since Haley’s death, but there are still mornings when he wakes up gasping for breath. Jack still has nightmares, too. He knows you would always pick up if he called—no matter the hour.

And he has called. More times than he can count.

You never hesitate. Sometimes you talk to him about anything and everything, filling the quiet until his mind settles. Other times, you simply read to him, your voice a low, steady thing in the dark.

You understand in a way no one else does. You have been there. You have seen him at his lowest, taken Jack from his arms when he couldn’t stop shaking. You know what haunts him.

And yet, you stay.

You murmur something in your sleep, shifting slightly. He could swear it was his name. Aaron glances over, watching as you burrow deeper into your pillow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

His fingers flex against the steering wheel. That warmth—the one he has been trying to ignore—stirs again.

He shakes his head, looking back at the road.

And then there’s you.

The age gap isn’t something he’s ever consciously thought about, but now that Dave has addressed it, he can’t help but consider it. Would it even matter to you? Would it matter to anyone else?

That’s not the only thing that concerns him. You have worked hard to build a career in the Bureau, and despite your talent and intelligence, it has taken you longer than it should have to be taken seriously. You once told him that being a young woman in this line of work often feels like a battle you never really win—only survive.

And what would people say if there was suddenly something between the two of you?

He exhales sharply through his nose. Not that it matters, because there isn’t.

Still, he keeps his hands firmly on the wheel, afraid that if he loosens his grip, that warmth might spread beyond his control.

The car slows as he takes an offramp, the change in speed pulling you from sleep. You lift your head, blinking sluggishly as you look around.

“Are we in Richmond already?”

Aaron glances at you, his lips quirking slightly at your sleep-heavy voice. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

You tip your head, still shaking off sleep. “I could eat.”

He gives you a knowing look. “You should eat.”

You huff a small laugh, rubbing at your eyes. “You take your supervisory duties very seriously.”

He only shrugs. “It’s my job.”

You smile at him, still soft around the edges from sleep, and something in his chest tightens.

Aaron looks back at the road.

Dave is wrong.

This isn’t a fact-finding mission.

Unfortunately, he already has enough facts to know he’s cooked.

+++

Aaron refuels the SUV and makes sure you’re settled with food before pulling back onto the highway. The morning settles into a comfortable rhythm—quiet, but not stiff. But then again, it’s always easy with you.

When you offer to take over driving, he shoots you a look before shaking his head. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.”

You frown, still shaking off the last bit of sleep. “I thought shotgun picks the music.”

“That’s Morgan’s house rule, not mine.”

You hum in consideration, eyes narrowing slightly. “Okay, so what are your house rules?”

He lets a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.”

You groan. “So, what I’m hearing is that we’re listening to the White Album.”

Aaron flips through his playlists, selecting the album in question without a word. The familiar opening chords of Back in the U.S.S.R. fill the car, and he glances at you just in time to catch the way you bite back a smile.

You might tease, but he knows you like it. Or maybe you like that it’s his favorite. It’s a thought he doesn’t prefer to dwell on.

The road stretches out ahead, and for the first time in a while, he feels something close to ease. The usual tension in his shoulders dulls, the steady hum of tires on asphalt lulling him into a rare sense of contentment.

“Why is this one your favorite?” you ask suddenly.

He considers the question for a moment. No one has ever really asked. Maybe no one has thought to.

“I’m… not sure,” he admits. “I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born, and when I got my own record player in college, she made sure I had a copy.” He shrugs, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little— I don’t know— comforting about that.”

You nod, thoughtful. “I get that.” A pause. Then, with a wry tilt to your voice, “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.”

Aaron lets out a low whistle. “That film really was awful.”

Your laughter is immediate, warm. He finds himself waiting for it before continuing, “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.”

You turn in your seat, brow furrowed. “Weren’t you, like, barely in high school?”

He nods. “We snuck out—some friends and me. It was really stupid, and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” A nostalgic smile plays on his lips. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps and paid in cash, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He smirks, glancing over at you. “But of course, that’s before your time.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, come on. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.”

That gets a real laugh out of him. “Fair enough.”

The conversation slows after that, the easy quiet of the road settling in again.

Every so often, he reaches a hand toward the center console, and without prompting, you pass him a fry from the fast-food bag. It’s a small thing, but it makes something in his chest feel steady.

Aaron keeps his eyes on the road, but he knows you’re watching him. You always notice things—little things no one else pays attention to. Like the way his fingers move in time with the music, a habit so ingrained he barely thinks about it. Until now.

“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s something in your tone—amusement, curiosity, maybe a bit of disbelief.

He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how, but I don’t claim to be decent at it.” A short exhale, a shake of his head. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.”

That isn’t untrue. Sean has a natural talent for things Aaron has always had to work at. Music, art, charming the hell out of people. But that isn’t why Aaron stopped playing.

After a moment, you ask, “Have you and Sean always butted heads?”

Aaron lets out a short laugh. “Yes.”

That’s the simplest way to put it. There’s silence for a moment. 

“My dad was right-handed, so I play right-handed,” he admits, voice quieter than before. It’s a non-sequitur, but he suddenly itches to share something with you, something he rarely talks about. “When he taught me, it never occurred to me to try the left-handed way.” A beat passes, then a wry smirk. “He wasn’t exactly the type to entertain the idea of doing something differently just because it might’ve been easier.”

That’s putting it mildly.

He sees you nod, filing the information away in that sharp mind of yours, but you don’t push. Instead, you say, “I’d like to see you play sometime.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, unsure if you mean it or if you’re just being kind. It’s been years since he picked up a guitar for anything more than a few absent-minded chords. Longer still since he played with any real enjoyment.

Then you say, almost absently, “You have a Gibson in your office at home.”

His grip tightens on the wheel for half a second before he forces himself to relax. “It was my dad’s Les Paul.”

He doesn’t know why he keeps it. The guitar is a relic of a man he has no desire to remember and is worth well over ten grand, yet there it sits, leaning against the bookshelf. The same man who once took a young Aaron by the hands and taught him his first chords is the same man who turned those hands to violence. And yet, Aaron has never been able to bring himself to get rid of it.

Maybe it’s proof that his father was once something more than a monster. Or maybe it’s just another burden he carries because that’s what he’s always done.

He doesn’t look at you, but he feels your attention shift—feels the moment when you connect the dots, understand the weight behind something as simple as a guitar in the corner of a room.

You don’t say anything.

And for that, he’s grateful.

Instead, you let the silence settle, let the music fill the space between you. And slowly, as if nothing has happened, his fingers resume their absent rhythm against the steering wheel, tapping along to Happiness is a Warm Gun.

+++

Aaron listens and participates quietly as the conversation drifts between you both. He’s used to the silence that comes with long drives, but he knows that when you have something on your mind, you don’t always jump straight to it. After a while, though, the air feels thick with unsaid things, and he finally asks, “So, who is this guy?”

He glances at you quickly, the question hanging in the air. He can already tell you’re hesitating, unsure whether to share more detail with him. But he isn’t expecting anything specific. His job has taught him that people open up when they’re ready, not when they’re pushed.

You sigh, tipping your head against the seat, clearly reluctant to dig into old memories. “Ugh. You really want to know?”

Aaron shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, sounding almost mockingly formal, and he can’t help but smile more at that.

You begin to tell him, your words flowing easily now. “His name is Austin. We met in some random general education class and became fast friends. Then we started dating. We were talking about marriage, kids... the whole thing. We were together for two years.”

The weight of it all hits him—he can tell it’s not easy for you to talk about, and yet you’re doing it without hesitation. He listens, letting you pace yourself, because he knows that’s what you need.

You pause for a moment, and Aaron glances at you, catching the small frown forming on your lips. “Then I went abroad for a semester… When I came back, I found out he’d been seeing someone else the whole time I was gone.”

The shift in your tone makes something twist in his chest. He knows that feeling of betrayal too well. But he doesn’t interrupt. You need to get it out.

“It’s kind of cliché, I know, but it broke my heart in half,” you finish, your voice a little shaky but hiding it behind humor. Aaron doesn’t push. He knows it’s still there, the hurt, even though it’s been years.

“You handled it better than I did,” he says, keeping his voice soft.

You continue, telling him about how you’ve tried to remain civil with Austin’s family, keeping in touch through other people over the years. Your words drift back to the wedding invitation. “I think his mom sent it. I mostly accepted because I wanted to see her and Austin’s little sister. I miss them the most.”

The warmth in your voice when you talk about them catches Aaron’s attention, and he finds himself focusing more on the things you miss, the parts that matter.

“What are they like?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You smile as you tell him. “Allison is funny—always putting more cream than coffee in her mug. And their mom—she is the best. She had great taste in books. She still sends me copies of her favorites, even now. It’s nice to get something from her every once in a while.”

Aaron can’t help but admire how you’ve managed to keep that connection alive, even after everything. He knows what it’s like to try and maintain ties, even when it’s difficult. He appreciates that you haven’t let it all go, even when it would’ve been easier to cut the ties for good.

“It was good of you to keep in touch,” he says quietly, a genuine respect in his tone. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but he doesn’t need to tell you that. You already know.

You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”

The comparison catches him off guard. His relationship with Jess has never been about choice. He loves her because she’s family, because she took care of Jack when he couldn’t. But if Haley were still here, would he have made the effort?

The difference, he decides, is that you’re kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley were still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce? There’s no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death.

He’s a little startled when your hand reaches out, resting lightly on his arm. Your hand is a little cold, but it’s nice, almost refreshing. Your thumb traces softly over the skin of his bare forearm. The simple gesture unravels something in him.

“It’s different now, and it would have been different then,” you say, gentle but certain. “There’s no right way to do anything.”

Aaron exhales in a huff, unsettled by how easily you know him. How you always seem to.

“I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley,” he says. “You know that.”

“I do,” you reply. “I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her. And probably won’t ever stop.”

Aaron feels the weight of your words settle into the quiet between you. There’s no hesitation in the way you say it, no pity—just an understanding and acceptance that feels too easy, too natural. It catches him off guard.

He knows you pay attention, but this is different. This isn’t just observation. This is something deeper, something that makes him feel more seen than he’s comfortable with.

He thinks about deflecting, about making some comment on profiling, turning it into a joke to lighten the moment. He considers arguing, telling you that love like that doesn’t last forever, that people move on, that they have to. But he doesn’t believe that—not really.

Instead, he wonders if he should correct you, if he should remind you that love isn’t what it once was, that time has reshaped it into something quieter, something lonelier. But that isn’t entirely true either.

So many things come to mind, but none of them feel right.

So he exhales, leans onto the center console, and settles on the only thing he can say.

“How do you know everything?”

You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile.

“I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.”

+++

Aaron watches as you exhale, shoulders sagging the moment you step into the room. His eyes flicker to the lone king-sized bed before returning to you, gauging your reaction. He registers the way your breath hitches just slightly, your posture going momentarily stiff. He understands immediately—it’s not what you expected.

It’s not what he expected, either, but it’s fine. There’s a couch, if it comes down to it. He adjusts quickly, out of habit, but beneath that practiced ease, something unspoken lingers—something that makes the space between expectation and reality feel impossibly small.

But years of practice, of adapting to the unexpected, have conditioned him to recover faster. He doesn’t hesitate. Instead, he moves toward the left side of the bed, the side closest to the door. That instinct runs deeper than thought. It’s the side that gives him the fastest access, the clearest vantage point. It’s the side that lets him place himself between any unknown variable and you.

As he sets down his bag, something flickers across your expression, something just shy of startled realization. You follow his lead, wordlessly taking the opposite side, unzipping your suitcase in tandem with him. It doesn’t escape him how easily the two of you move in sync.

He files the thought away before it can settle.

Your small, satisfied smile doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither does the way it vanishes just as quickly, as though you’ve chastised yourself for it. Aaron doesn’t linger on it, though. Instead, he unzips his garment bag and retrieves the suit he had set aside for the occasion.

The moment you look over, he senses the shift in your focus.

“Mind if I take up some real estate?” you ask, holding up a handful of hangers.

Aaron shakes his head, wordlessly making space for you. He notices the way you glance over his suit again as you hang your things. It’s a suit like any other for him, part of the uniform of his life, but this one is particularly well-tailored, undeniably expensive. Maybe you hadn’t expected that. 

When you both finish, he watches as you sit on the bed, sinking down with the weight of exhaustion. 

“What time is our first obligation?” he asks, more to get a read on your energy than anything else.

You huff a small laugh. “5pm Cocktails at the hotel bar for everyone who arrived today. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” You glance at the clock, confirming, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.”

Aaron nods, considering the hours ahead, then meets your gaze. “How do you feel about a nap?”

Something flickers across your expression too fast for him to catch. But whatever it is, it makes his lips curve slightly, his body instinctively seeking relief at the idea of rest. He’s running on fumes. He knows it. 

And yet, there’s something in the way you immediately agree, something in the easy way you say, “I feel great about a nap,” that makes something in his chest loosen.

He doesn’t let himself analyze it.

Instead, he reaches for a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag, retreating into the bathroom. He changes quickly, splashing cold water onto his face, gripping the edge of the sink as he studies his reflection. 

This is fine. You’re just tired.

He takes a steadying breath before stepping back out.

The room is dim now, the blinds drawn to a gentle shade, leaving a soft hush in the air. You’ve already curled up under the covers, body relaxed, breath slow. He stops just short of his side of the bed, gaze drawn to you despite himself.

Your brow, usually furrowed with thought, is smooth in sleep. Your hands rest loosely in front of your face, fingers curled slightly. He watches the way your breath moves evenly past the curve of your lips, steady and undisturbed.

Something in his chest tightens.

He knows he should slip under the covers properly, let himself rest. But the thought of shifting the bed, of disturbing whatever delicate balance exists in this moment, makes him hesitate. Instead, he carefully places his jeans back in his duffle bag and stretches out on top of the covers beside you.

His body is heavy, exhaustion pressing into him, but his mind refuses to still.

He lets his eyes close, but sleep does not come immediately. Instead, his thoughts remain preoccupied—not by the case files in his briefcase, not by the endless to-do lists or the weight of responsibility.

But by the quiet phenomenon beside him, the simple, inexplicable comfort of your presence.

This should not feel as natural as it does.

Eventually, exhaustion wins. But even in sleep, he drifts toward you, drawn by something he isn’t ready to name.

+++

Aaron stirs, the warmth of your hands grounding him before he even fully wakes. His fingers are curled around yours, your hands clasped together between them, the smallest space between your foreheads. Not touching, but close. Too close.

There is no memory of how this happened. No recollection of seeking your hand, of the moment skin met skin. Either he has reached for you, or you have reached for him. He doesn’t know which possibility unsettles (or excites?) him more. A small shudder goes through him.

Of course, this isn’t the first contact you’ve ever made, but it feels different. Hair ruffles and shoulder squeezes and hugs for comfort are one thing, but this is entirely another.

His first instinct is to move, to create distance, to restore the boundaries that have served him so well. But he doesn’t. Instead, he listens—to the even cadence of your breath, to the way his own heart hammers in his chest, an erratic counterpoint to the quiet, and the things that heart says. He tells himself you are still asleep, that you don’t know what is happening, that you won’t wake up and see him like this, so weak and subject to the strength of his feelings and impulses.

And then he watches as your hand shifts slightly, as if in response to his own. You are awake.

A slow exhale escapes him, measured, careful. He releases one of your hands, feeling it drop onto the coverlet, fingers relaxed. He should roll away. He should sit up. But his body betrays him before his mind can stop it.

His fingertips skim the arch of your brow, tracing downward, barely brushing your skin. He follows the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips. He tells himself he is committing your face to memory, as if it is something fleeting, something he will lose the moment he lets go.

His hand moves lower, tracing the line of your jaw, lingering for half a second before he pulls away. His fingers wrap around yours again, grounding himself in the simplest touch. And before he can think better of it, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing the faintest kiss to your knuckles before tucking it back against his chest.

His eyes close, but sleep does not come easily. He is too aware.

Of you.

Of the way his body angles toward yours.

Of the way his heart beats too fast in his own ears. It takes time, but eventually, his breath evens out.

But you don’t sleep.

Your eyes open, and you look at him, really look at him. He can feel it. The quiet study of your gaze, the slow path of your fingers as you trace the angles of his face.

He fights the instinct to react. He knows what this is—knows because he did the same to you only moments ago. He remains still, perfectly still, even as a shock of adrenaline spikes through him.

You know.

You know how he feels about you.

And worse—you know how you feel about him.

His chest tightens, his grip on your hand nearly faltering before he forces himself to stay still. The truth is too much, too soon. He isn’t ready. You aren’t ready.

This is temporary, he tells himself. It has to be. There is no space for this, no space for you in the life he has only just started to rebuild. His time belongs to his son. His efforts belong to his healing.

But even as he tries to convince himself, something inside him wavers.

The new normal is the hardest thing to find, his therapist once told him.

He’s been so sure he could find it on his own. He isn’t sure anymore, especially as your finger rests on the hollow under his nose, just above his mouth. He can hear your breath catch.

It takes everything in him to stay still as your fingers card through his hair at his temples. His breath remains steady as he resists the urge to lean into your touch like a cat, deeply comforted by your gentle touch.

You pull away first, slipping your hand free from his and rolling onto your back. He tells himself the loss of contact is a relief. He tells himself he doesn’t miss it.

You check your phone, the early afternoon light filtering through the drawn blinds. He forces himself to move, inhaling deeply before stretching, shifting onto his back as if he is only just waking up. He laces his hands behind his head—it’s a play at casual, but he mostly just needs to occupy them.

When you turn to look at him, your expression is composed. Normal. Too normal.

“Good afternoon,” you say, and he almost smirks at how carefully neutral you sound.

He lets a small smile play at his lips, refusing to betray what he knows. “Good afternoon.”

You shift, pushing forward before anything can slip between the cracks. “So, tonight.” Your voice is casual, almost too casual. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends,’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”

Aaron laughs, the sound breaking the tension like the first crack in ice. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.”

+++

The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as Aaron anticipates. He stays close to you, your right hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm, a small tether between you. You hold a glass of wine but he hasn’t seen you drink much, if at all, your fingers idly twisting the stem as you navigate the room.

When your name is called from across the space, he tips his head down to listen as you whisper a quick debrief—names, relationships, a crash course in shared history. It’s impressive, really, the way you move through social circles with ease, offering him just enough to fall seamlessly into step beside you. The person he knows at work—put together, capable, confident—is here, but this version of you is just a little different. A little more put-upon, a little more deliberately engaged.

You’re performing. Just a little.

Which version of you is closer to the truth?

If he were profiling you in this moment, he’d see someone who knows how to navigate a crowd, someone who controls the conversation with quiet grace. But he also knows you’re nervous. He admires the effort you’re making to connect, to meet these people where they are after years apart.

As expected, he plays his role well. Warm, charming, a careful observer, taking his cues from you. He listens as you catch up with old classmates, some you remember fondly, others whose faces don’t stir a single memory. He’s proud when he can recognize the momentary blank look on your face when you don’t remember someone, but you always cover neatly. He nods at the right times, adding the occasional comment where it makes sense, content to exist in your orbit.

“How did you two meet?” The question comes from a woman whose name he catches (Leslie)  but you did not. He resists the urge to smirk at your near-imperceptible pause before you answer.

“We’re in the same department at work.”

The man beside her—Carson, apparently, based on the murmured correction from someone else—tilts his head. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.”

“DoJ, in Quantico,” Aaron supplies helpfully.

“FBI,” Leslie interjects before Carson can fumble through another half-formed thought. “Keep up.”

“No shit!”

A small group gathers now, drawn into the conversation, and instinctively, you shift closer to Aaron. Without thinking, his arm slides around your waist, his stance adjusting to keep you securely within his personal space.

Protective. Steady. Natural.

It makes sense. You have moved closer, and he has responded accordingly. That’s all.

“Shit,” you say, bumping him playfully with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested, you’ll have to bail yourselves out.”

“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did,” Aaron adds smoothly, his voice low and even, laced with quiet amusement. “So keep it high and tight, and we’ll all do just fine.”

He feels the tension in your body shift—not quite a flinch, but something subtle and telling. A second later, you take a longer sip of your wine than necessary, as if to mask a reaction.

Shouldn’t have said that.

Not with his hand where it is, his chest just barely against your back. Not with how easy it is to stay close to you, to let the boundaries blur just a little too much.

But, again, it’s for the show. A natural response. Just acting.

“There he is!”

The exclamation shatters the moment, and he feels you tense before your head whips around so fast you nearly lose your balance. His grip adjusts instinctively, a steady hand at your shoulder keeping you upright.

That, at least, isn’t acting. Just reflex.

“Thank you,” you murmur, just for him.

He hears you. Of course he does. And before he can think better of it, he presses a light kiss to your temple.

Too much.

“Always.”

Unnecessary.

It sells the image, sure, but it also crosses the line. He justifies it easily—you’re nervous, you need reassurance, and this is the most natural thing to do.

The instinct isn’t for the act, but the justification certainly is. How much more can he get away with, without taking advantage or being gratuitous? You don’t seem to mind, and that’s good enough for now. 

Austin approaches, looking more polished than Aaron expects, with a stunning fiancée at his side and an easy, practiced smile.

Aaron lets you go just as Austin pulls you in for a hug—longer, warmer than necessary. He uses the moment to assess, his gaze sharp as it flicks over the man’s expression. Austin’s focus lingers on you, but there’s something calculating, almost judgmental in his eyes when they finally land on Aaron.

He introduces his fiancée—Madeline—and you, in turn, introduce Aaron.

“Austin, this is my…” You hesitate.

Aaron’s fingers curl gently around your waist, a silent reassurance, a quiet prompt. He’s just as interested in what you’re going to say as Austin appears to be.

You let the implication settle before making a light recovery.

“Aaron.”

That works. 

The smirk threatens at the edge of his lips, but he suppresses it as he extends his free hand. His grip is firm, unwavering, just a touch longer and more of a squeeze than is entirely necessary. He watches as Austin’s expression falters, his jaw tightening briefly before he lets go and flexes his fingers.

“Pleasure,” Aaron says. “Congratulations.”

Austin gives a slightly forced laugh, shaking out his hand. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.”

Aaron simply nods, his hand settling back at your waist, his touch light but deliberate.

Just to sell it, that’s all. 

+++

“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar, and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. Just instinct. Draping it over you, placing a hand on your back. He’d barely thought about it, but now, watching you slip it off, he kind of wishes you’d kept it on a little longer.

It is both shocking and uncomfortable how much he likes to see you in his clothes, even if it is just stuffy outerwear.

“Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.”

Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and the way you smile at him—soft, easy—makes him feel a little looser than he should. His buzz from two drinks hasn’t quite worn off yet, and he lets himself enjoy that.

You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”

“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”

He had tried, during one of the most trying periods of his life. With every incentive and push, he tried. And it hadn’t stuck. The BAU was grueling, consuming, and unrelenting, but it was also the work that made him feel most like himself. The thought of stepping away—leaving behind the team, the purpose, the sheer necessity of what they did—felt impossible. He knew he wasn’t built for desk work, wasn’t made for a role where he wasn’t in the thick of things, reading people, preventing the worst. Every time he’d thought about moving on, the idea had crumbled under the weight of what he’d be giving up. 

“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.”

You move easily around each other, and he takes more notice of that than he probably should. There’s a comfort here. A rhythm. Changing into pajamas, brushing your teeth, the little rituals of getting ready for bed. He’s seen you like this before, sure—late nights at his house with Jack asleep in his room, movie credits rolling—but this is different. It’s just you and him. No cases, no responsibilities, no excuses.

He catches his own reflection in the mirror, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, letting the fabric stretch over his shoulders as he pushes his hair back. He shouldn’t be encouraging anything, but if you’re looking, he won’t stop you.

Lost in thought, he stares into space for a moment before coming back to himself, preparing everything he needs for bed. 

Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway, still in his slacks, his shirt untucked, barefoot. 

“I really can take the couch.”

You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.”

“Oh?” He asks, amused. “Why’s that?”

As you answer, he reaches for the fresh t-shirt he set aside earlier, slipping into the bathroom and pulling the door while he changes. The motion keeps him busy, gives him something to focus on besides the knowledge that he will be sharing a bed with you–again–this time, separate from the team, independent of necessity and absent professional boundaries or inconveniences. You’re here, with him, settling into bed like it’s normal. 

He hoped, probably somewhat irrationally, that you would let him sleep on the couch. This is an unfair temptation of his ability to repress his feelings. He’s good at it, but he doesn’t know how much longer that skill will hold up to continued stress before something snaps.

“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.”

The bathroom light flips off, and he scoffs in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.”

“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.”

He chuckles as he moves toward the bed, sitting on the edge and putting his socks on. He’s stalling. The king-size bed feels small, almost claustrophobic. 

“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and he knows, in that moment, that if he let himself, he could get used to this.

He flips the covers back and forces himself to lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s rigid, his hands resting lightly on his chest. He makes an effort to unlock his knees, but it takes some work. 

Don’t get comfortable.

Why not? She’s right here.

Because she’s your friend. Because this is temporary.

You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. Then a sigh—yours. He catches it too late to figure out what it means. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is softer in the dark and he turns on his side, facing you. You nod. He can hear your head move against the pillow, but he’s not sure if you’re being honest. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

You pause, then, carefully, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just—I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.”

That shouldn’t hit him the way it does. He reaches out, tentative, and when your hand finds his, he lets himself hold on.

“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. You trusting him like this, being this open, it’s something he won’t take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.”

I’d like to let you come—

Jesus Christ.

What?

Read the room.

He swallows the thought and keeps his voice steady. “With that in mind,” he continues, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”

Your friend.

That’s what he is.

That’s what he needs to be.

That’s what you expect.

He can hear the fondness in your voice when you reply, “Goodnight, Hotch.”

Hotch.

Not Aaron.

He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t correct you. “Goodnight.”

He belatedly realizes you’ve avoided accepting the compliment. 

+++

Aaron wakes slowly, the weight of his arm around your waist both grounding and comforting. For months now, he’s woken from these moments with a lingering sense of peace, only for reality to rush in and steal it away. He hasn’t dreamed of Haley in months. It’s you. It’s always you. And he’s long since stopped trying to deny what that means.

It’s always like this in the best dreams.

He exhales slowly, nuzzling in. His breathing matches yours, slow and steady, as the warmth of your body sinks deeper into his, and the scent of your skin fills his senses. There’s something about this moment, the way you fit against him, the way you’re tangled up with him, that feels like the best part of every dream he’s ever had.

His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s been pulled from the world he visits in his subconscious. But then something shifts—the warmth beneath his palm, the way your fingers brush against his in sleep. And the realization hits him like a punch to the ribs. The softness of your skin against his, the quiet rhythm of your breathing, the way your hair smells like something impossibly familiar—he’s not imagining it. He’s not dreaming.

For a brief, disorienting moment, he doesn’t recognize where he is, but it all comes back to him fast enough. You’re tangled together—his knee between your legs, his face buried into your shoulder. He feels you breathe, slow and even, your body molded against his like you belong there.

The feeling sends a wave of warmth through him, and the last vestiges of sleep fade. His first instinct is to pull away, afraid that you’ll wake and find him draped over you like some kind of ridiculous backpack. 

But as his mind clears further, reality sets in with an almost physical weight. He’s not sure how he’s gotten here. Last night feels like a blur of quiet conversation, laughter, and unspoken tension, but here you are, wrapped in his arms as if you’ve done it a thousand times before.

God, what am I doing? 

The thought is sharp, cutting through the haze in his mind. He tries to pull away, but he can’t. His body refuses to listen to the voice that tells him to stop—to retreat, to keep the distance between you that’s always been there.

This is wrong, he tells himself. But the longer he stays, the more that little voice feels like a lie. He’s wanted this—wanted you—long before he ever admitted it. You’ve been there in his dreams, in his thoughts, in places he never thought he’d let anyone reach. But now, with you here, so close, it feels too much like something he’s been afraid to face.

You’re here because you want to be, he tells himself, even though the thought makes his chest tighten. The last thing he wants is to ruin this by overthinking it. But how can he not? He’s tangled up with you, wrapped around you in a way that feels natural, but still entirely new. Your breath on his skin is soothing, but it’s also a reminder of how close you are. The thought shakes him, unnerving in its simplicity. 

You, with your vibrancy, your youth, your life ahead of you... how could you possibly want someone like him? He’s older, with baggage that comes with the territory - a dead ex-wife, a son, an irreconcilably difficult relationship with his work. He’s seen the toll of his career on his own soul, and he’s no fool—he knows he can’t give you the things someone your age deserves.

And yet... he can’t picture a life without you. Whenever he looks ahead, you’re there. You’re part of it.

You shift in your sleep, and the movement makes his body react in ways it shouldn’t, as if it’s betraying him on purpose. Morning wood was always inconvenient, but he can’t deny that his body has a good reason for reacting the way it is, this morning. He can’t rightly blame his body or his brain for this one, but he can mitigate the issue. He swallows hard, trying to keep his thoughts in check. This is foolish. He’s being foolish. But the pull of you, the way you trust him enough to let him in this close, it’s all too much.

Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner. 

He tries to shift away, slowly, gently—careful not to wake you, though your soft protests make it clear you’re not fully asleep. The last thing he needs right now is a reminder of how real this moment is.

A shower. That’s what he needs. Something cold. He picks up his toiletries and makes his way to the bathroom, locking the door behind him for some semblance of space, of control. He starts the water and palms himself, trying to relieve the uncomfortable pressure insistent and painful between his legs. 

Hotch braces a hand against the cool tile, his other already wrapping around himself with a practiced ease that borders on shameful. The heat of the water is nothing compared to the warmth of your body still lingering in his mind, the phantom press of your back against his chest, the way your fingers had laced so easily with his in sleep. He bites back a groan, jaw tightening as his strokes fall into a familiar rhythm, one he knows too well. This isn’t new—he’s had years of practice burying his want for you in moments like this, years of pretending that letting it out like this will make it any easier to ignore in the daylight.

But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s not just a fantasy. This time, he has the memory of you in his arms, your scent in his nose, the knowledge that, even unconsciously, you reached for him just as much as he reached for you. His chin falls down to his chest, breath stuttering as he pictures what it would be like if you weren’t just beside him in sleep but in this, too—if it were your hand, your touch, your voice whispering his name in the quiet. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back the rush of it, but it’s no use.

The release comes fast, sharp and overwhelming, and for a moment, it’s everything. But then it’s gone, leaving him panting under the spray, the guilt creeping in at the edges like it always does. He lets the water scald his skin for a moment longer, trying to drown out the truth of it.

He’s fucked. He’s completely, hopelessly fucked.

He takes another breath and turns the spray to a shrinking cold. Serves him right. 

When he finally emerges, he’s grateful for the cold that follows, the chill of the bathroom driving out the last of the thoughts that have been clouding his mind.

He doesn’t expect you to be awake when he returns, but he hears your soft chatter and typing before he even opens the door. He’s aware of your presence, as always, and of the tension in your voice as you speak to someone on the phone. He leans toward the door, his fingertips pressing with the lightest of touches to hold his weight as he eavesdrops. 

He can’t even bring himself to feel a little bad. 

And then he hears your voice.

“…he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

Hotch pauses, and huffs out a quiet laugh. He can’t even be annoyed because, honestly? That’s funny.

He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say, “My God, Em. Would you quit?”

Ah. So it is Emily.

“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty—”

Your voice drops, too low for him to catch the rest over the hum of the bathroom fan.

With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress.

And if he enjoys the way your voice falters at the sight of him, well—he doesn’t owe Emily a damn thing.

The sight of you, trying to pretend you’re unaffected, makes something in him tighten.

You’re not as unaffected as you’d like to think. Neither of you are.

He catches the faintest hint of a smile as you try to recover, but it’s gone before it fully forms, replaced by the distraction of your laptop, your fingers flying over the keys.

“Yeah, for sure,” y0u reply, still determinedly typing with a little more force than necessary.

Hotch smirks to himself as he pulls on his shirt, taking his time with the buttons. He may not be able to hear Emily’s exact response, but your reaction tells him everything he needs to know. The sharp click of your typing, the force behind your words—he’s spent enough time reading you to know when you’re flustered. And if Emily is pressing you, it means she knows it too. She reacts to sexual tension like a shark with blood in the water. 

Emily must say something in reply, as you retort, “Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” 

He’s not blind. He knows he’s at least somewhat attractive for a man in his early forties—he keeps in shape (his mile time and bench max are better than they were in his 20’s, in fact), his suits are finely tailored, and he’s been told more than once that the whole “stern FBI unit chief” thing works for him. But knowing you think he’s attractive? That’s something else entirely.

And it’s more than enough of an ego boost to wash away any lingering guilt from his… activities in the shower. Because really, can he be blamed? When you look at him like that, wide-eyed and breathless, struggling to pull yourself back into focus?

No. No, he absolutely cannot.

He bites back a knowing smile as he reaches for his tie, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re still determinedly avoiding looking at him, fingers flying over your keyboard like it’ll somehow drown out the conversation entirely.

Poor thing.

He almost feels bad for you. Almost.

In the bathroom, he decides to forgo the tie until it’s time to leave for the ceremony, leaving the top two buttons of his white dress shirt undone. He notices that something on your computer must be riveting, because you don’t look up at all as he returns to the suite. 

+++

Austin's family had clearly spared no expense for the ceremony or the reception. The moment he and you had walked in together, arm-in-arm, he could feel the weight of the event pressing down on you. You’d chosen seats near the back, on the groom’s side.

He knows this is strange for you—this wedding, this man who was once supposed to be your future. But you aren’t sitting beside Austin now. You’re sitting beside him.

Aaron doesn’t miss the way your eyes flick over him when you think he’s not looking, the warmth in your gaze when he adjusts his tie—the tie that matches your outfit, as promised. He had seen the way you watched him put it on earlier, how you’d ducked your head with that little smile you always tried to hide. He pretends not to notice, pretends it doesn’t stir something in him, but it does.

The ceremony itself is a blur. He follows the motions—standing, sitting—but what he notices most is you. You rest your head on his shoulder, playing the role. But when you take a shaky breath, he knows it’s more than that.

You don’t love Austin anymore, not even close. But he recognizes that look in your eyes—the quiet ache of knowing time keeps moving, that you are married to nothing but work. He knows because he’s felt it himself.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice pitched low enough that only you can hear.

You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shake your head, pressing your temple deeper into the fabric of his jacket. “Later.”

For a moment, just a moment, he lets his cheek rest against your hair. He isn’t worried, not exactly, but he’s never seen you like this before—existentially untethered. It unsettles him, not because he doesn’t understand it, but because he does. And there is nothing he can do to make it easier for you.

+++

At the open bar, you snag a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for him—good whiskey, because of course you would—when an older woman embraces you with unmistakable warmth.

Aaron watches as you break into a genuine smile. “Hey, Laurie,” you greet her, embracing her with an ease he doesn’t often see from you. He knows exactly who she is—Austin’s mother, from the ceremony. He doesn’t need to hear your words to know that she means something to you.

He doesn’t eavesdrop, exactly, but he can tell the woman is pressing you for information. When she gestures toward him, he schools his expression into something neutral, waiting for you to answer.

With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks and make your way back to the table, the woman in tow. Aaron watches your approach, the amusement flickering behind your carefully composed expression.

“Aaron,” you say, placing the whiskey down in front of him, your hand resting briefly on his shoulder.

He turns, catching the way you glance at him before stepping aside. He stands, extending his hand. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Oh no, that can’t be good.” Laurie laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh. Aaron smiles. 

“C’mon, Laurie. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”

Aaron takes his seat as Laurie settles across from him, and you lean forward on your elbows, watching as he answers her questions. He doesn’t talk about their work often, not outside the team, but here, away from the weight of the job, he lets himself. He tells stories—ones that won’t bring the room down—and watches as Laurie hangs onto his words.

When he glances at you, he sees something shift in your expression. Something that almost makes him forget what he was saying.

“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.”

Laurie nods, clearly enamored. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “It does.” He lets the words sit between you for a second longer than necessary before your phone buzzes, pulling you away.

You excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders, your touch lingering on his just a second longer than necessary. He watches you step away, lifting your phone to your ear. “Dean, you bastard!”

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to Laurie. He picks up where he left off, but his mind stays on you, lingering at the edges of his thoughts.

Her expression shifts, her gaze turning knowing as she studies him. “So,” she says, resting her chin on her hand. “What exactly are your intentions with her?”

Aaron exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “We’re just colleagues,” he answers honestly, though he knows that’s not the whole truth.

Laurie tsks, tilting her head as if she’s seeing straight through him. “I beg to differ. I’ve been watching you two. The way you look at each other.”

He doesn’t quite squirm, but he feels a warmth creep up his neck. “She’s important to me,” he admits carefully.

“Of course she is,” Laurie agrees, her smile soft but pointed. “I just think you should consider how important she is to you. And in what way.” She pauses. “Just don’t break her heart and you’ll do just fine.” She smiles a cheeky, knowing smile. There’s a little pain behind it. “Trust me, I know.”

Aaron doesn’t have a response to that, and Laurie simply pats his hand before shifting the conversation elsewhere. But the thought lingers, settling somewhere in his chest as he watches you, framed by the doors to the balcony. 

+++

When the dancing starts, Aaron’s anticipation reaches his nervous system in a way it hasn’t in a long time. He finds himself chuckling when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play. He thinks of what Dave said earlier, about letting himself have a little fun, and for once, he’s inclined to listen. Maybe he will seize an opportunity tonight. 

Old dog, new tricks?

With a confidence and certainty that only feels partially for show, he stands and offers you his hand. There’s no hesitation when you take it, and only after does it seem to dawn on you what he’s doing.

“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop in your tracks, and he tightens his grip just enough to keep you tethered to him. There’s amusement in his eyes as he looks back at you.

Of all the things to say to me, of all people…

“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with an exasperated huff. “Humor me. Just one, and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

Your skeptical look is well-earned. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying.”

You give in, and when you do, something shifts. He keeps you both to one side of the dance floor, mindful, careful. The push and pull of movement is familiar, natural, and his grip on your waist is steady, grounding without constraint. There's laughter—his, yours, mingling with the music—and the ease of it catches him off guard. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this, the quiet joy of sharing something simple, something good.

Your tension eases gradually. He notices the way your fingers stop gripping his shoulder so tightly, the way your steps become more fluid. He catches sight of Austin across the dance floor and, in an instant, recognizes the way your eyes dart away.

“Hey.” His voice is low, nearly teasing.

Your eyes snap back to his. “What?”

“Relax.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff.

With a smirk, he spins you out, then pulls you back in against his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You, however, are tense.”

Aaron's heart pounds in his chest, and he's sure you can feel it. Whether it's from exertion or something else, he's not sure. He’s pushing the line now, taking liberties. 

In for a penny…

You sigh, relenting. "It just feels weird."

“What does?” He turns you again, your hand landing lightly over his heart as he pulls you close once more. His hands are politely centered on your back. Now that is a liberty he’s not going to take.

“I just—” You hesitate, then push through. “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s strange to think I ever did. That I thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves, and both of our lives just… kept going after we split, you know?”

He nods. “I do.”

And he does. The memories of Haley—of their love, their pain, their loss—never truly leave him. But right now, for the first time in what feels like forever, those thoughts aren’t heavy. They don’t weigh him down. Instead, there’s just this—just you, warm in his arms, laughing as he spins you under his arm. The sound of it tugs something loose in him, something he hadn’t even realized was so tightly wound.

When you return the favor, spinning him under your arm, he lets out a surprised laugh, bright and uninhibited. The song shifts into something slower, and he doesn’t let you go. Doesn’t even consider it.

Your head comes to rest against him as you sigh, exhausted and content.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

The words settle in, warm and unexpected, and something in him softens. When he speaks, it's quiet, but certain. “Of course.”

Nowhere better. 

+++

By the time you both retreat upstairs, Aaron feels something he hasn’t in years—genuine lightness, unburdened by the usual weight he carries. His suit jacket had long since been abandoned, leaving him in rolled sleeves, a loosened tie, and an altogether uncharacteristically unkempt appearance. He carries it slung over his shoulder, holding onto the collar with a single finger. He leans against the wall, his ankles crossed. He’s the picture of ease.

“You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.”

The teasing lilt in your voice makes him laugh, a sound he’s only now realizing has come freely tonight. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“You don’t have a bedtime.”

And it’s true—he hardly sleeps on cases (or at home, for that matter), and you’ve seen him function on nothing more times than you can count. But here, in this moment, he feels the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from stress or overwork, but from something simpler, something warmer. Something that could actually inspire him to sleep soundly, for once. 

You turn away to sort through your belongings, and Aaron watches for just a second longer before disappearing into the bathroom to shower.

When he returns, his hair damp, you’re already asleep—curled up on top of the covers, out like a light. He exhales softly, flicking off the last of the lights before making his way to your side of the bed. Carefully, he peels back the covers, shifting your legs beneath them, then your torso. You stir, your fingers curling around his wrist before he can pull away.

His breath catches, his eyes closing for just a moment. Then, gently, he slips his hand from yours.

And when he finally slides beneath the covers, you instinctively curl into his side, your leg hooking over his. He doesn’t fight it. Doesn’t move away. He only lets out a quiet sigh and allows himself, for once, to enjoy the comfort of something good.

+++

Aaron watches you sleep, your face tucked against his chest, your breath warm and steady against his skin. He should wake you soon—checkout isn’t far off—but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to. His arm tightens slightly around you, as if that will keep this moment from slipping away.

Your body is curled into his, trusting and unguarded. He tells himself it’s just the circumstances, that you’d be this way with anyone who made you feel safe. But something deep in his chest twists at the thought, and he wonders if he’s being selfish, holding onto this feeling for just a little longer.

The morning light filters through the curtains, catching in your hair, casting soft shadows across your face. You shift slightly, murmuring something he can’t quite make out, and he freezes, barely daring to breathe. But you settle again, your fingers lightly curling into the fabric of his shirt. He lets out a slow breath, relief and something else washing over him in tandem.

He wishes he could have this every morning—waking up warm, wrapped in quiet moments before the world intrudes. But joy like this isn’t for men like him. He knows better than to reach for things that aren’t meant to last.

Still, he lingers, allowing himself just a few more minutes in this fragile peace before reality calls you both back. He tips his head back against the headboard, letting himself fall into the fantasy where this is his every morning, waking up with you in his arms. 

Get over it already. Jesus. 

He’s still looking at you, memorizing the peace on your face, when your eyes crack open. Your eyes flicker up, meeting his with a surprise that doesn’t seem all that unwelcome. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

Best to start simple. 

You tuck your face back into his chest. He takes the opportunity to pull you closer, hold you a little tighter. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.” 

His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” 

Too much? He freezes for a moment, but you haven’t pulled away. 

“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but he’s sure his arm is blocking the eyeline. He’s not inclined to move, so he just answers. 

“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”

“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up. He lets himself fall back as you leave the circle of his arms. He’s not imagining it–you’re much readier to make contact now than you were before. Sometime during the weekend, the contact became less taboo. 

The zings of electricity that jump through his skin when you touch him haven’t stopped though. He hopes it never does. 

He shrugs and tells the truth. “I like driving.” 

I am also a control freak. But you knew that. 

“I won’t argue with that.” 

You sigh, stretch and stand. You miss the way Hotch’s brow crumples as a sliver of your skin becomes visible as your arms stretch above your head. He very purposefully keeps his back to you as he gathers his things, tidying up and hiding the rather unfortunately timed hard-on. While you’re in the bathroom, he changes with practiced haste, using a trick he hasn’t needed since college - the old flip into the waistband move. Minimizes adjustments, maximizes suffering. Especially in jeans. Serves him right.

You switch places, letting him brush his teeth and shave. He takes your zipped suitcase in one hand, his roller bag in his other. 

“Meet you downstairs?” He asks. 

You nod, smiling. “Checkout should be taken care of, but I’ll check at the front.” 

“Bill me if it’s more than five dollars,” he says with a wink, already halfway out the door.  

He meets you outside, sunglasses on, the sun baking his dark hair. It is rather pleasant outside, even if it is the beginning of winter. “Ready?”

You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!” 

He finds himself loving the side of you unlocked by this trip–the shameless silliness and easy laughter. He hopes it can stick around when they get home. He hopes a lot of this can stick around when they get home, but he knows the magic of being ‘out of context,’ as it were, for a weekend can’t last.

Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope. 

“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict. He is starving, the ver corner of a hangover at the edge of his eyeline. He only had two or three drinks, but his metabolism isn’t what it used to be. 

“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast,” you say, “almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?” 

He studies you behind his sunglasses. There’s something intangible that changes in your demeanor when you’re omitting something - he’s seen it in the interrogation room. He’s almost certain Penelope wants you to spill. 

There’s a small part of him that idly wonders how many details you shared in advance of this weekend. 

With a laugh at Penelope, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate. 

Is that… disappointment? 

For what, though?

You put your phone away as Penelope appears to abruptly hang up and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.” 

He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.” 

You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack. 

“Hey bud!” 

“Hi dad!”

God, he loves that boy. He has no idea (okay maybe some idea) of how he turned out so great so far. 

“You having a good weekend?” He asks. 

“Yeah! I saw that rabbit again!” 

Aaron smiles. “I’m glad buddy.” 

“What’s all that noise?” 

Aaron looks up, finding a dog barking on the sidewalk, a leafblower going strong across the street, and the sounds of the hotel valet drivers tossing keys and getting people checked out. “We’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today.”

“Did you have fun?” Jack asks in that polite way only children can. 

“Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun.” You smile, crinkling your nose at him. He smiles back. “I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend.”

“I did! We ice fished, too!”

“You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?

“Yeah. He showed me how to put bait on and everything.”

“Awesome, bud.”

“I gotta go, Dad. We’re leaving to go…” Jack must have pulled the phone away from his mouth, because all Aaron hears is ambient noise of an entire house getting ready to leave. 

“Sounds good,” he says uselessly. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

Jack returns to the receiver. “Love you Dad!”

“I love you too.”

When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”

“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.” 

You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour. “Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is...not a fan of mine.” 

Aaron vividly remembers the cold fury in Roy’s eyes at the funeral, the icy conversation they had after the service. Roy’s feelings about the whole affair–Haley’s murder, his role in it–is clear. Aaron’s responsibility for her death is one of the few things they agree on, these days. But even that isn’t enough for a functioning relationship. 

Like you can read his mind, you say, “I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” He can tell just by looking at you that you mean it, which is very kind of you. 

Kinder than he deserves, surely. 

He doesn’t want to get into it with you again, so he just says, “Thank you.”

+++

Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He secretly enjoys your karaoke-esque abandon in the car. He catches himself smiling more often than not. 

At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat. 

Uh oh. 

This feels like a preamble to something.

“Yes?” He asks. 

“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him. He can see out of the corner of his eye that your attention is glued on him. If he didn’t like it so much, it would be unnerving. 

“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.” 

You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”

He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.” He’s sure he has, in fact, on multiple occasions. 

“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.” 

“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his head. He did get a haircut before this weekend, but he was sure you hadn’t noticed. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and he laughs, letting himself get jostled. 

“I’m kidding! I like it long, though.” You look over fondly at him. Something grows warm in his chest and his lips turn up at the corners, almost without his permission. “It was longer when I first met you, remember? You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.” 

He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturn just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.” 

And ain’t that just the coldest truth. 

You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on. 

+++

Aaron has never been more reluctant to pull into a driveway in his life. Yours, specifically. He slows more than he needs to, as if delaying the inevitable might somehow change the outcome. But real life is waiting for both of you, and pretending otherwise is just another cruelty he’s allowing himself.

He turns off the ignition, and for a long moment, neither of you move. He can feel the weight of everything left unsaid hanging between you. Maybe you don’t realize it, but he does. He knows the exact shape of it, the way it’s been growing, pressing in at the edges. And still, he sits in it, selfishly, because soon he won’t have the luxury.

You sigh, and it feels like a cue. He follows you out of the car, circling around back without thinking. He should just let you take your own damn suitcase, but he doesn’t. Carrying it is another excuse—one more fleeting moment before the goodbye he doesn’t want to say.

At your doorstep, you fumble with your keys, and he thinks, just for a second, that if you never got the door open, he wouldn’t have to go. He sets your suitcase down, but his hands don’t leave it right away. They ache with restraint. You get the door open and take a few steps inside. 

Then, before he can stop himself, he reaches for you. Covers your hands with his own. He shouldn’t, but he does. He shouldn’t lean in, but he does. The kiss he presses to your cheek is light, barely there, but it lingers between you all the same.

“Thank you for inviting me.” It’s not what he wants to say. Not even close. What he means? 

Thank you for letting me love you, like I would. Like I want to.

But it’ll have to do for now.

You nod, but your smile is tight, your lips pressed together. You feel it, too, don’t you? This thing neither of you are naming. He swallows and lets you create distance. He can scarcely allow himself to hope. It’s not fair to hope. 

He’s not sure if it’s more unfair to you or to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He steps back because he has to. Because if he doesn’t, he’s not sure what he might do.

Something regrettable, no doubt.

“Bye, Hotch.” Your voice is steady, but he knows better. “Thanks again.”

He turns before he can look too long at the way you watch him. He pulls on his sunglasses, a weak shield, and opens the door, looking at you over his shoulder. “Anytime,” he says, and it’s the biggest lie he’s told in years.

He is proud that he only looks back once, to see you waving with the tips of your fingers, peeking out behind the door, as he follows the stone path back to the driveway. The walk feels miles long, the distance between you stretching like a reflection in a funhouse mirror.

You disappear inside when he reaches the edge of the poured concrete. He waits until the door closes before he exhales, before he rubs a hand over his face and forces himself back into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the car right away. He sits there, gripping the wheel, knowing that for the first time in a long time, going home doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like loss.

Fuck.

+++

tags: starting fresh! hit up the spreadsheet if you want to come back to the taglist :)

[ferniliciousness]

I never want to look at another bg again

[buwheal]

Hi, Spamton..! How’s our favorite [BIG SHOT] doing??

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[iznyangwoni]

LITTLE SECRET | spiderman!jungwon

pairing: spiderman!jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: where the charming college heartthrob yang jungwon has a couple more secrets than you might’ve thought.

warnings: use of alcohol, cursing, suggestive

words: 6.5k

a/n: happy new year!! this took way longer than i expected, i hope you’re as obsessed with the idea of spidey jungwon as much as me hehe.

taglist: @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @ikeulove @ribbioniki @hollxe1 @shiroolikesfish @wonnie99 @lunaritex @aloloveswonie @meowwons @enlysia @wonys-won @cryjungwon @yizhoutv @engenediary @firstclassjaylee @heeseungmyman @jovibaes @ilovejungwonandhaechan @candyhere @yamagucccii @jungwonbropls @bamguetismee @wnyloves @cralessia

“Okay, fuck, marry or kill between Thor, Iron man and… Captain America, who do you choose?” You laugh hearing your friend’s nonsense. Not even a couple of drinks in and everyone is already tipsy enough to make stupid questions like that. Still, Yunah seems so proud of starting this game that you cant really blame her.

“Oh damn, that’s hard.” Yunjin says, taking a couple of minutes to think about the answer. You like night like this, Heeseung’s small apartment is perfect for your group’s gatherings, there’s not many of you anyway, and you enjoy the company of your friends and the slight bitter taste of alcohol while you play.

“I guess i’d kill Iron man, fuck thor and marry cap?” Yunjin’s answer makes both Jay and Jake stand up. “oh hell no, team iron man forever.” You laugh again, and rest your back against the window, drink in your hands. There’s something so comforting about these little things that you cant help but be happy even hearing them get into stupid arguments like that. “Whatever! Whatever, Y/n, what do you think?”

You raise your eyebrows, not expecting to be the next one. You raise your eyes to the ceiling, trying your best to think about the options and the words to say to not let anyone jump at you. “Well, i guess i’d marry Thor? Fuck Iron man and kill Captain America.” “Wow. You’re a disappointment, just as i thought.” You roll your eyes jokingly before taking another sip out of your drink, a smirk on your lips while once again everyone starts to argue about team cap or team iron man.

You dont join in on that, Jake is loud enough to compensate for it, and to be completely honest, the alcohol does makes you too dizzy to keep up. You look around, mostly paying attention to the beanbag where Yunah is sitting on, since you want to steal that so damn bad. Yunjin, Jay and Jake are all standing up, hands moving and their voices getting higher each time someone says something even more stupid. Heeseung should be in the kitchen with Jungwon, probably making more drinks, even if we already had way too many.

Speaking of which, you notice Jungwon coming in the living room, a little smile on his lips as he hears the conversation, a tray full of snacks and drinks in his hand. He puts it down on the coffee table and your eyes meet for a single second, you smile at him, as if thanking him for the snacks. “What about spiderman?” He asks the group, and everyone is silent at that, all the attention towards the blonde boy.

You barely register what he says, too focused on looking at him and admiring him to really pay attention. How long have you had a crush on him? Technically, its only been a couple of years, but because of the blip you do really feel like he’s had you in a chokehold for centuries. And ever since he dyed his hair blonde you cant really stop looking at him, he looks ethereal, he looks like a doll, and from this side you can clearly see the perfect outline of his nose and-

“Y/n? Earth calls y/n are you here?” You blink a couple of times, your ears probably becoming red at the realization that everyone in the room saw you staring at Jungwon so much you couldn’t even hear what they said. “Yes? What? I’m sorry I- Yeah, you were saying?” This is embarrassing, but its not like its the first time this happens either. “We were talking about spiderman, and you’re the only one who saw him, so what do you think of him?”

You furrow your brows, trying to recall the last time you saw the hero they’re talking about. Its not like you talked to him, but if it wasnt for spiderman, a whole house would’ve collapsed on you and you surely wouldn’t be here to tell this story again. Its been a couple of months since that accident, and you can only remember the feeling of his broad shoulders covering you and that familiar scent that you still haven’t been able to connect to something. “He’s… cool i guess? I’d still choose Thor over him though.”

Jungwon laughs at your words and looks at your way before sitting on the couch, and thats enough to make your heart flutter again. You try to not look too long, not wanting to repeat that embarrassing moment just a second ago, but your chest really is about to explode. “I guess its hard to beat a god, uh?” You shrug your shoulders, to be completely fair, you’re not a fan of heroes as much as your friends are so all of this talk to you is just boring talk.

Later into the night you’re sitting on Heeseung’s bed, your back on the headboard. The apartment isnt too big, he does indeed have his bed in the living room, but to you that’s what makes it cozy. Jay is sleeping on the beanbag, Jake and Heeseung are playing some kind of game you dont know meanwhile Yunah and Yunjin left not too long ago, the only reason you’re still here is because Jay is supposed to be your ride home, but you dont know how possible that’s going to be now.

Jungwon notices you and sits next to you with his usual smile, a little too close. Your shoulders brush, making you stiffen for a second. You have to remind yourself that Jungwon and you have been friends long before you developed this absurd crush on him, he’s easy to talk to, there’s no reason to get so nervous around him, and so you relax, just a little. “So… you dont like spiderman?” You giggle at that, lately Jungwon has been obsessed with that guy, he keeps bringing him up, as if he knows him personally.

“That’s not what I said.” You turn your head just to look at him, regretting it almost immediately. He’s really close and you didn’t even realize how you’re basically whispering, as if the other three can even hear you. “Yeah but you still choose Thor! Isnt he like… a thousand years old?” You look at him with your eyebrows raised, you can smell the littlest tint of alcohol in him, he doesn't look drunk, but he’s definitely tipsy enough to continue this conversation.

“Jungwon, if I didn’t know you, I would think you either have a crush on spiderman or you’re trying to set me up with him.” He laughs at your words, and you can't help but smile even more, your heart fluttering looking at his face, the way dimples show up on his cheeks and his chuckles are so crystal clear in your head. “Eh, maybe you just don't know me enough.” You grimace at that, your nose scrunching up, making him smile again.

To be completely honest, it does feel like that sometimes. You and Jungwon have been friends for a while, but lately… He’s been acting weird, as if something happened to him that transformed him into a completely different person, or maybe he just has more secrets than you think. You look at Jay, still soundly sleeping on the beanbag. Its so late into the night, and you do have a couple of projects to work on tomorrow, so you better walk back home if you want to be productive.

You get up and start picking your things up; Jungwon furrows his brows at that, before putting two and two together and realizing that you’re going home. “Hey. Isnt Jay your ride home?” You shrug, you really dont have time to wait for him to wake and sober up. “I dont live too far, i’ll just walk back home.” “I’ll go with you.” You raise your head at that, your heart beating so hard it might explode any minute. Did Yang Jungwon just offer to walk you home?

“There’s really no need to-“ But before you can even finish your sentence, Jungwon is putting his coat on and your cheeks become red, this is really happening. “Its three in the morning; i’m not letting you go alone.” You have to bite your inner cheeks to not smile too hard. You just nod at him and then finally get ready to go, you say bye to Heeseung and Jake before walking out.

You totally get why Jungwon is so well liked; he’s kind, funny, caring, and so handsome. It’d be weird not to. He walks on your right, as if to keep you protected from the few cars strolling around at this hour, and he’s so close to you that your shoulders and hands keep brushing against each other’s. It's cold outside, being January, and what you’re wearing isn't doing much to help you, but he’s already doing a lot, so you can't find it in yourself to ask him for his jacket.

Your house isnt too far, you had simply asked Jay because you know better than walk back home alone and drunk at night, and you’re glad Jungwon thinks the same as you. “I’m glad you’re back.” You say, getting surprised at your own words. Jungwon had been away for that Stark project for geniuses or whatever that was, and you could totally feel his absence. “I wasnt gone for long, though.”

You giggle quietly, definitely embarrassed now. “Guess i just like having you around then.” He looks at you as he smiles. Yunah and Yunjin have been telling you for weeks, they think that Jungwon might reciprocate your crush, but you’re not too sure about it. Him staying for so long during hangouts is a rare occasion, usually he finds some excuse to leave early or he just doesnt show up at all.

You reach your house and stop right in front of your door, Jungwon looks at you while you search for your keys inside your bag. You giggle when you find them, embarrassed by how long that took and, before opening the entrance, you look at him again, a gulp in your throat. You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the key in your hand. Should you just ask him to come in? Would that be too bold or… you know what, fuck it.

“Do you… want to come in? Its late and you live pretty far..” You bite your lips, hoping that doesnt sound too straightforward. Does it sound like you’re begging him to stay? Jungwon eyes seem to light up for a second, he’s about to speak when he suddenly stops, as if distracted by something. He looks at you again, this time he seems guilty. “I- I’d love that Y/n but i really have to go now..”

Your mouth opens to form a little ‘o,’ but you try to hide the disappointment with a smile on your face, you nervously put a strand of hair behind your ear, and the more you look at him the more he looks like he’s in a rush. Oh, he must really hate your idea. “Yeah! No, of course, sure! You must have a lot of things to do at 3 AM." You want to slap yourself at your own words. He gets closer to you and for a second you think he’s about to kiss you or hug you, but instead he just opens the door for you. “Go inside, its getting cold.”

As if the disappointment and embarrassment from last night wasnt enough, its like luck wasnt on your side either. You just wanted to hide and never look at Jungwon in the face ever again after yesterday, but of course the universe had another plan. You look down as the professor tells you that you have to find a tutor for maths and physics if you want to pass his exam. “Honestly, Y/n. This exam is really important for your career, i can help you find a good tutor like…” The professor looks behind you and points his finger towards a student, and you dont really have the courage to look back and see who it is.

“Oh! perfect timing. Come here, Jungwon!” Your eyes widen when you hear that name and you turn to look at the guy. Jungwon walks towards you and the professor with a gentle smile on his face, his hair is a bit of a mess and you notice he’s not wearing his backpack. You furrow your brows, he looks like he just finished a marathon. “Jungwon is the best of the class, i’m sure he can help you, right?”

Jungwon looks confused now, the professor gets next to him and pats his back, you honestly just want to hide, he doesnt look too happy with the idea of being your tutor and you just hope that the reason is not because of you trying to flirt with him last night. Before he can say no, you jump into the discussion. “I- I’m sure Jungwon is busy with that Stark stuff, i can find someone else its really not a big deal.”

“No! No i can do it! I can be your tutor, yeah..” This is awkward, definitely more than you could’ve imagined. You and Jungwon just look at each other and the tension in the room is so dense that you could probably cut it with a knife. The professor laughs and pats both your and Jungwon’s back lightly. “Sure, you figure it out! Just make sure you’re ready for the exam, Y/n.” And that said he takes his stuff and says bye, leaving the both of you alone in the class.

“You dont have to do it..” You say, after a couple of seconds of silence. You’re putting your things back in your bag, trying really hard to not just look too much at him, fearing of the reaction your heart might get from that. “No, no, i really want to. And honestly, there’s not really anyone better than me so..” He chuckles at his own words, but you just crack a little smile, closing your bag before looking back at him. “Let’s do at five today? in the library.”

You’re pleasantly surprised by his willingness to actually help you. You nod at his words, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, your bag on your shoulder. “Sure. Thank you, Jungwon.” He takes a couple more seconds to just look at you, and you start to feel almost self conscious at that. Maybe you got something in your hair? Something stuck on your teeth? Or even worse maybe you just smell bad and the perfume you’re wearing didn’t cover it up, or-

Before you can keep on overthinking about your appearance, Jungwon just ruffles your hair, a smile on his face as he does that and right now you can only hope and pray that your cheeks are staying a normal color, because you definitely feel hot as hell right now. “See you later, Pretty.” Pretty. He called you pretty. Wait, did he really just do that? You don’t even have the time to realize what just happened that he’s gone. Leaving you alone and on fire in this cold class.

You spend the rest of the day just waiting, and waiting, and waiting for five to come, you even got back home just to change into some cuter clothes. You dont want to make it look like you’re doing too much, its Jungwon after all, it would be weird. So a pair of wide leg jeans and a black top is cute enough. You arrive at the library five minutes early, just to make sure you can get a nice spot and take your things out before he arrives. But he doesn’t.

You know Jungwon, he does have a problem with timing, so you wait. The first fifteen minutes you dont think much of it, he’s always late after all. Then half an hour passes and you actually start to get angry, its already dark outside and you dont intend to wait for him all evening. But you do that anyway.

The initial anger transforms into worry when you overhear a couple of girls talking about how Spiderman was just seen fighting a bunch of criminals off, maybe he got involved in the fight? But thats really not something Jungwon would do. After an hour and a half of waiting you actually feel sad. He either forgot or didn’t care at this point. He didnt reply to your worried texts, nor did he call to tell you he was busy with something else.

You couldnt even concentrate on the physics book, too worried and sad to really be thinking about whatever is written there. Two hours pass, and the library is about to close so you just pack your things back and decide to walk back home, headphones in, and really, the last thing you want right now is sabrina carpenter in your ears singing about getting dicked down, but thats all your spotify wants you to listen apparently.

As if your day couldnt get worse, it starts raining, and the only thing covering you is the hood of the jacket you’re wearing, of course you left your umbrella home, you were so busy thinking about getting cute for Jungwon that you didnt even think about the important stuff. You sniffle with your nose at the thought of it, not really wanting to cry about something so stupid, but at the same time your throat is starting to hurt, and its already raining, so you might as well.

You’re close to your house when suddenly you cant feel the rain anymore, and for a second you actually think it stopped raining, but when you look up you only find an umbrella over your head. Your eyes widen in surprise, and when you turn to see who is holding it, you dont know if you want to keep crying or run as fast as you can.

Jungwon is now behind you, holding the umbrella for you while getting drenched under the rain himself. You dont know what to say, or how to react. All you know is that you feel sad and disappointed and so, so angry at him for wasting your time and making you believe that he actually cared for you enough to help for the exam.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry i swear i didn’t forget i just- i got a call from Stark for that project and I-“ Your brows are furrowed in annoyance, your head shaking and saying no as he keeps on talking and saying excuses. You’re not one to get mad easily, you’re usually pretty chill, and rarely things get under your skin, but right now you really want to just smash his head somewhere. “You could’ve called. Or replied to my dms.”

He’s panting, he must’ve run a lot, and he keeps getting wetter and wetter. Part of you wants to invite him in and give him something to dry his hair out, but you mostly want to take a bit of revenge in a way, and if its by giving him a common cold, then so be it. “We.. we cant keep our phones there, for privacy reasons- Mr. Stark doesn’t-“ “I dont give a fuck about Stark and your fuckass project!”

You manage to surprise yourself by shouting at him that way, you’re just so pissed off. It would’ve been better for the both of you if he hadn’t shown up, at least you would’ve cried yourself to sleep only to act like nothing happened, but seeing him, hearing his excuses that you’ve heard already thousands of times, whenever he missed the group hang outs or class. But this time its different.

“I told the professor you were busy, but you insisted to be my tutor anyway. This exam is so important to me but you just cant understand! Jungwon, not everyone is a damn genius like you, not everyone has fucking Tony Stark making projects and shit for him, i needed help today but you decided to just waste my time.”

Jungwon remains still, looking at you in shock, he’s never seen you this angry, he didnt even know it was possible for you to crash out this way. Suddenly his throat is dry and he doesnt know what to say, meanwhile you are fighting your own tears from falling. You feel guilty, in a way, you dont like getting mad and you definitely dont like the fact that it was Jungwon the one to see you this way. You hate it, how you cant still be fully mad at him because of how much you like him, his big dark eyes looking at you as if you just broke his heart. You take a deep breath in, and right now you dont know if you’re shaking because of the cold, your drenched clothes or from anger.

“I’m sorry.” He doesnt say anything else, and you actually wait for him to add another sentence, maybe you expect another excuse, but no. He just looks at you like a sad little kitten, and that only angers you even more. You shake your head no one last time before turning away from him and walking towards your house. You dont look back, because you know that if you did you would melt, you’d ask him to come inside and you’d say sorry to him for crashing out. And right now this is not what you need.

A couple of days later, you decided to stay in an empty classroom just so you could be able to study without having to worry about getting distracted. You’ve been ignoring Jungwon, but its not that hard when he is barely available anyway. He wasnt with your friends last night, and you havent seen him in class or anywhere else really. Last time you saw him, two days ago, you just turned on your heels and ignored him, but that was it.

You sigh, hating having to do this, the exam will be in two weeks and you still cant bring yourself to understand any of these things. You’re about to give up and smash your head on the table when the sound of notebooks falling on the chair next to you suddenly startles you.

“You were right, i acted on impulse and i’m sorry.” Jungwon is standing in front of you, he looks like he hadn’t slept well, dark circles under his gorgeous eyes that you love so much.

You dont say anything, too confused to actually react in a normal way. He’s making your heart beat so fast and the butterflies in your stomach are going crazy. “I made notes for you. I tried to keep it simple and add schemes, it took me a while, but i really wanted to help you.” Your lips press into a pout, now you really feel awful for how you treated him, this is why you like him so much. No matter how others treat him he’s always kind and gentle and god, you really fucked up, uh.

“I’m sorry for crashing out the other day.” “I deserved it.” “That’s not the point.” You sigh for what seems the ninth time today and you get up. He’s still taller than you, but what really makes you feel much smaller are his shoulders, his body is so fit and broad for him to have the face of an angel. There’s a few minutes of silence, it seems like you two always end up not saying anything for a while, just looking at each other and waiting for the other to speak. This time you decide to break it.

“I’ll offer you dinner, or coffee or a drink? if i actually pass the exam.” Jungwon’s smile gets even bigger, he likes how bold you’ve been lately, first asking him if he wanted to stay at your house, now this. If only he wasnt so busy being a damn hero, he would’ve asked you out a long time ago. “Let’s go see a movie instead, like a date.” You have to blink a couple of times to understand that, is he really asking you on a date? You look at him as if he’s talking nonsense, your lips parted in shock and you fear you might faint from how fast your heart is beating. He chuckles at your reaction. “You better pass that exam now.”

You’ve never studied so hard in your entire life. The two weeks passed so slowly, you basically closed yourself inside your house, or the library, or in the classroom, doing everything you could do to pass that exam. And so, when the day of the test finally arrives, you’re sure you can do it with your eyes closed. Well, kind of. You still dont get the highest grade, because you would’ve needed either a miracle or some sort of dark magic for that, but you still pass it.

You get out of the class, a huge smile on your lips while you walk towards the dining hall, where all your friends are waiting for you. “Oh my god i almost forgot your face!” Says Yunjin, pinching your cheeks when you sit between her and Jungwon. “Did you even eat these past weeks?” “You honestly got us worried.” “Oh my god, you guys. I was just studying its not like a supervillain kidnapped me or something.” Jungwon grimaces at your words. “Ugh, dont jinx it.”

A chuckle escapes your lips as you roll your eyes before digging in your food. Jay and Yunah are now arguing about which supervillain the world has seen would be able to kidnap you, meanwhile Jungwon is shaking his head no, trying to stop them from fantasizing about it. “I wouldn’t mind Loki i guess,” “Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ugly.” Yunjin’s reaction makes the whole table laugh.

“I’ve never met Loki..” Jungwon says, almost to himself, the others probably didnt even hear him, but you turn to look at him with a confused expression, your brows furrowed. “Well, duh. We were too young when the avengers stopped him.” The blondie just looks at you back, almost embarrassed about that sentence falling off his mind and coming out from his mouth. “Yeah… yeah i meant like, uh, yeah we were too young..” He’s acting weird, but you let that go, after all Jungwon does seem like a huge superhero nerd.

The week goes on and finally, finally, its time for your date with Jungwon. If it can even be called a date. Well, he called it a date so you assume it actually is one. Still, he did call you this time telling you he was going to be five minutes late, so you take your time walking towards the cinema.

Its been raining a lot these past few days, but you’re prepared, the white umbrella tight in your hands.

You’re just going to see a movie, but you still thought about dressing up nicely. The white dress you’re wearing might be a bit too springy, but you dont mind that. And you do have a pretty coat over it, so its fine. Your boots are perfect for the weather, and so are the thighs under them, and most importantly you feel cute.

Just as Jungwon said, he reaches you five minutes later, his breathing ragged as if he just ran. His hands behind his back but you can clearly see the flowers he’s trying to hide. He looks embarrassed, but the smile on your face makes me feel much more at ease. “I- Lets say it wasnt a good idea to get them and then run under the rain.” He says, handing them to you.

You laugh, the flowers must’ve looked pretty before he put his hands on them. They’re drenched and some of them are even missing a couple of petals, you couldnt care less about it though. He got you flowers. Yang Jungwon, the guy you’ve had a crush on for two years got you flowers, and you couldnt be happier.

“You’re always running somewhere.” You chuckle.

He links arms with you, walking towards the ticket booth. You dont even know what film you’re watching, knowing him its probably some sci-fi movie or a really old one that he always references but you dont know. “I mean, running is healthy.” “As long as you dont run away from me..” He keeps silent at your words, looking at you deeply, his eyes scanning your body and face, he always does that. “I’ll try.”

That answer leaves you in a chaos of emotions. He will try? What does that even mean? Your face must be telling that, or maybe its the way your body stiffened up. He opens his mouth to say something else, probably trying to save what he just did, but you dont even hear him. A loud noise echoed outside the cinema and you find yourself catching Jungwon’s hands out of fear.

He suddenly looks serious, his hand on your back, his brows furrowed in what seems anger and annoyance, that’s not a normal reaction if someone were to ask you. He looks around, meanwhile the other people around you are already screaming and running out of the theater, and you’re starting to get anxious too. “Jungwon we have to-“ “Take the emergency door on the left, i’ll catch up to you later.”

He lets you go, but you’re only getting more and more confused. He’s not coming with you? You shake your head no, in disbelief. You’re not leaving him here out in danger, what is he, some kind of superhero? “What? Are you out of your mind? Jungwon let’s just go..” You grab his arm and he closes his eyes for a second, getting out a deep sigh before he cups your cheeks.

“I swear, i’ll explain everything to you, but you have to go now. Just trust me and get out from that door only.” He’s not a superhero. You keep repeating yourself that, like a mantra, he cant be. He’s Jungwon, you would know if he was, he wouldnt be able to shut up about it, he’s like a twenty year old Tony Stark, there’s no way he is. But then you feel the way he’s holding you, his broad shoulders protecting you and his big hands on your face, its so familiar. And the look in his eyes is telling everything you need to know.

So you nod, hesitantly, but you do as he says. You can only hope he’s not actually who you think he is, your hands stop gripping his wrists so tightly and he gives you a gentle and reassuring smile before leaving a kiss on your cheek. “Go home, and dont take the metro. I’ll be right back.” You nod again and then you go, with your heart thumping against your chest, your head filled with dots connecting each other, and you dont know what to think.

You reach home safely, only because you did as Jungwon told you. You didnt take the metro, which happened to be involved in the fight, and you wonder how the hell did he know that would’ve happened. You sit on your bed, checking every news site, refreshing the spiderman tag on twitter every couple of seconds. You’re not 100% sure about it, maybe you’re just traumatized and insane, maybe a man protecting you reminds you of spiderman and this is just you projecting, but you cant ignore the signs.

That time at the library, he didn’t come and spiderman was fighting off somewhere at the same time, or all those times he left early or didnt come at all, all those excuses and that Stark project, is that even real? It makes sense, it makes too much sense and you feel like you will be going crazy until he comes back like he promised you.

You’re about to go downstairs and make a chamomile or something that could help you not go insane when you hear a tap on your balcony window. Jungwon is there and you waste no time opening the slide in door for him, you want to ask him a thousand questions but he just puts his finger over his lips, telling you to be quiet.

You dont know why he’s doing that, but you accomplish and close the window door behind him. You were so distracted waiting for him that you didnt even turn on the lights, and its so dark outside so you had barely noticed the mask in his hand. That mask. You take a better look at him and you feel so stupid when you notice what he’s wearing.

You dont know if you’re even surprised at this point, nor how you find the force to close the curtains and turn on one of the little lights in your room. He slides down the wall, he looks tired, and hurt, but he’s still looking at you with that same cocky vibe he always has. “You don’t look surprised.”

“I had a lot to think about walking home.” He smiles even more, and you kneel down next to him, your hand going to his hair without even thinking to much about it, you move them away from his forehead, and you just now notice a few small cuts on his face. “Is this a deal breaker for you?” He chuckles softly, his breath catching, even he knows how ridiculous he sounds right now, but you’re too mad to joke around with him.

“The deal breaker was you vanishing for weeks, lying to our friends, lying to me, finding useless excuses, asking me out on a date and then letting me run off of my own, leaving me alone at the library for hours and-“ You notice the way he’s looking at you, each word you say making him feel even worse, his already huge eyes looking even bigger.

“And… it doesnt even matter, because i like you so much i cant get mad at you.” It should feel good, telling him that you like him, it should feel like letting go of a weight off your shoulders, but it doesnt. Your heart feels heavy, you dont know how to feel, you’re worried sick and you dont know how you’re going to handle knowing that he is, indeed, spiderman.

You let your head fall on his shoulder while he hugs you almost immediately. You can hear the way his heart is beating, he doesn’t like seeing you like this and he hates being the cause of it, so he tries to soothe you down, hands caressing your back and playing with your hair.

“I like you a lot, too. And if this too much for you i’ll- I dont know, i’ll ask that damn doctor magician to erase it from your memory or something, just- I’m sorry.” You shake your head no while hiding in his chest, you dont want to forget this, he trusted you enough to know, and you respect that. “Who else knows?” “Jay and well, Mr. Stark and well yeah, everyone of that category.”

You just nod, you really cant believe this. Jungwon and Jay keeping a secret of this sort, you really thought Jungwon was the kind of guy to tell anyone if he were to be a hero, but apparently you know way less about him than you expected. You raise your head to look at him. He looks pretty hot like this, his lips are red, probably from fighting, his hair is a mess and that’s partly your faul, and wow. The suit fits him so well. His broad shoulders, his toned chest and his biceps look even better with it on.

“You’re staring.” He says, his fingers going under your chin to make you look at his face, which doesnt help your wondering thoughts, since he’s just that handsome. “You always stare at me, too.” “Yeah, ‘cause you’re pretty.” You crack a smile at that, its not the first time he calls you pretty, but it always gives you butterflies. Before you even realize, he puts his arms on your waist and makes you sit on his lap. Well, now you know where all his strength comes from.

“I wasnt expecting our first date to end up like this.” He moves to be closer to you, his nose nuzzling with yours, his voice getting lower, your hands rest on his chest. “What were you expecting?” That question seems to get a reaction out of him, his brow raising, a smirk on his face. “Well, you would’ve hated the movie i choose anyway. At that would’ve led you to be bored, and to us making out.” You giggle at that, you dont know if that would’ve actually happened, but the thought is nice.

“You think you can make my dream come true, Pretty?” Maybe its the suit that is making him act even more cocky than he usually is, or maybe you’re just too turned on by it to think about anything else. Your eyes scan him one last time, your hands moving behind his neck, your lips brushing against each other. “I’ll try.” And that said, your lips finally crash into his. For years you imagined how it would feel to kiss him, and this is so much better than any of that.

Jungwon is confident in his moves, his lips move with ease against yours, his hands keep you still on his lap, his tongue gently asking for permission by licking your bottom lip. You let him, not know that its going to be the end for you. He tilts his head, enough to go deeper while you just let him take the lead. You feel like you’re in heaven his lips are soft yet his kissing gets rougher as time passes, soon enough the room is filled with the sounds of your breathing, your lips meeting and tongues clicking. He doesnt seem to be wanting to let you go, you still pull out after a while, feeling out of breath.

He leans in for more but you stop him with a gentle peck, a giggle escaping from you. “Calm down, Spidey. Not everyone has super lungs.” “I dont, either.” He laughs and pushes your hair our of your face and puts them behind your ears. “You’re really okay with this? Even if I’m spiderman?” You can hear the insecurity in his voice, and honestly, it really is a big deal. He’s a superhero, he gets in trouble, people want him dead and knowing it might affect your daily life too. But right now you dont care.

“First of all, you’re Jungwon. We’ll figure out the spiderman stuff together. But yes, i am sure about Jungwon, a hundred percent.” He nods, a smile on his lips before he kisses you again, and again, and again. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.” He whispers between kisses, next thing you know he picks you up before throwing you on the bed, you giggle again, your body open to him.

You look at him and he just looks so perfect to you. You can’t believe this is happening, Jungwon is on top of you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings between your lips. He pulls out for a few seconds to look back at you, a smirk on your lips as you bite his ear before whispering.

“The suit stays on, though.”

[hausofwoo]

graphic | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x afab reader

word count: 6.6K

summary: stuck in the monotony of your job at the mall, every day feels the same: opening the store, sitting behind the register, and counting the hours til close. you've even memorized the routines of the stores around you. but when a new guy starts at the comic book store across the way, you realize your predictable days may soon change.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, comic book store employee!mark, retail employee!reader, really cute and fluffy until it's not, public sex (public space but no one is there), unprotected piv (DONT DO THIS), mark throws u around like a lil play thing, oral (fem recieving), fingering, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: this one took forever yall i know its been a while! been going thru some shit irl but things are settling and i was deadset on finishing this bc it's so cute :'-) thank u to T and @hausofmingi for being my beta readers ( ˘ ³˘)♡

working at a mall can be really tiring, but it’s not so bad when you have a crush.

you’ve been working at a retail store at your local mall for a few months now. it’s boring, there’s too many people on the weekends, and you have the worst hours. you found yourself working open to close for far too many shifts. but at the end of the day, at least it keeps the bills paid.

on slow days during the week, you’re always sat at the register, scrolling through your phone or twiddling your thumbs, counting down the seconds til closing time. sometimes you would even stare off into space, watching people pass by all day long.

you went to work always knowing exactly how the day would go; set up shop, maybe help some customers, and do fucking nothing for 8 to 10 hours. maybe a wave to the employees at the stores surrounding you, but sadly, that was usually the most interesting part of your day. you became accustomed to the monotony though, watching the same employees open up their shops next to yours.

the store directly across from yours is a comic book store. you know the few people that worked there, usually just saying “good morning” and going on with your day. you swear, you have this store memorized, knowing when the employees take their breaks, who’s working, what they’re working on that day. you didn’t really mean to, but when all you have to do is daydream, you kinda picked up on the routine there.

so when you arrive in the morning for yet another brutal open-to-close shift, you expect to just roll up the security shutters and sit back at the register all day. but there’s something different today; or rather, someone different.

sitting at the register at the comic book store is a man you’ve never seen before. his hair is perfectly messy and his glasses framed his eyes, which are focused on reading a comic. he’s working all by himself, which is surprising to you since you’re certain he’s new. you catch yourself staring and try to brush it off. he’s a new guy, so what?

you try your best to go about your day as normal, but you can’t help stealing glances over at the man at the store across from you. he has a captivating energy, and it makes you want to know more about him. he seems charismatic, being friendly with customers and earning smiles, then resuming his doodling once they leave. you notice that when he looks really focused, he bites the corner of his lip gently.

you gotta stop staring, or he will definitely notice. you decide to actually work on something for once, organizing the stock and straightening the shelves. soon enough, closing time creeps up on you. you do all of your closing duties and grab your things from the back. you close the security shutters, looking behind you quickly to see that the man is doing the same. he notices your gaze, so you kindly wave at him. instead of a wave back, blush forms on his face with a shy smile. and with that, he walks away.

the interaction was unreadable. he seemed to be so extroverted with customers, having no issue having casual conversations with them. why is he getting all shy now?

you started to pick up on the new routine at the comic book store. from what you could tell, the man worked similar hours to you, often opening and closing too. he rarely worked with anyone else, so the majority of the time you glanced over, he was reading comics, manga, or doodling in his notepad.

you never really got into comic books like that, and only dabbled with reading manga, but the growing interest in this man made you curious about learning more on what he was reading. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out the selection? perhaps get some recommendations? you just finished a short shift today so now was the perfect opportunity.

after grabbing your things and saying goodbye to your coworker, you make your way over to the comic book store. you approach the man, who’s sitting at the register as usual, reading. you see his name tag on his chest; a cute red pin with a spider-man drawing next to his name, “mark.”

“hi,” you say, pulling his attention away from reading.

“oh, hi,” he says, placing his comic down. “sorry, i didn’t see you come in.”

“it’s okay,” you reply, looking around at the goodies at the register. “i was wondering if you have any recommendations for a beginner at reading comics?”

“oh for sure,” he says, eyes lighting up. “marvel has tons of great ones. you could start with an ironman one, or maybe captain america? i personally like spider-man, but i’m definitely biased.”

“i’ll try spider-man,” you say after a beat.

mark gives you a nod with a warm smile before leaving the register to grab your comic. he searches through the spider-man section until he finds the first issue. he returns to the register, ringing you up.

“i think you’ll like it, it’s really good,” mark says, handing your receipt to you.

“i’m definitely looking forward to see what all the hype is about,” you chuckle. the conversation pauses for moment, clearly indicating that the interaction is pretty much over with. but you don’t want the conversation to end there, so you find something to keep talking about. “you’re new here, aren’t you? like you just started working here?”

“yeah, sort of,” he says, sitting back in his seat at the register. “i used to work here a while ago and i just came back ‘cause they needed someone.”

“oh nice,” you reply. “welcome back i guess?”

“haha, i guess,” he smiles, rubbing his hand on his neck. “it’s chill here, but it gets kinda boring.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle. “it’s so slow during the week. i usually have nothing to do.”

“yeah, i just read or draw to pass the time,” mark says, pointing at his notepad on the counter.

“you like to draw?” you ask, curious.

“yeah,” he places a hand on the notepad, grabbing it. you can tell he’s getting shy again. “it’s just doodles.”

“you’ll have to show me some of those ‘doodles’ sometime,” you say with a sweet smile. you check your phone for the time. it’s getting closer to dinnertime and you’re starved. “i guess i’ll get out of here.”

“okay,” he stands again. “well, let me know what you think of the comic.”

“i will,” you say, turning to leave, then flipping back to look at him. “mark, right?”

he nods, asking for your name as well. he beams at you. “it’s nice to meet you. see you tomorrow?”

“see you tomorrow,” you say with a wave, walking out.

for the next week, you find yourself aching to talk to mark again. you read the comic he gave you, and it provided a little bit of insight into him… that he’s a bit of a nerd. definitely not a bad thing. it’s actually really endearing to you, knowing his life basically revolves around superheroes, free time and work alike. that he probably draws little comics in his notepad, and has sweet dreams about being superhuman. why is that so fucking cute?

you have a reason to talk to him again, of course: the next issue of spider-man. the problem is building up the courage again, which is ridiculous because he’s just a guy. a nerdy one at that, and you know that he would be putty in your hands if you really wanted him to be. but the longing you developed for him during those long hours of your shift, seeing him across the way, looking so cute in his round glasses… it’s making you nervous in a way that is difficult to explain.

you’ve been putting off going back to his store at this point. wouldn’t someone that wanted to get into superhero comics come back for the next edition? why aren’t you using your excuse to talk to him? not only that, but he even said he wanted you to come tell him what you thought of the comic. you’re just overthinking things.

you have another short shift one day, and decide today is the day. you gather your things and walk to the neighboring store, feeling the familiar butterflies you felt the first time you approached mark at the register. he’s drawing this time, crouched down and focused. he hears you walk in, lifting his head to meet your eyes. maybe you’re crazy, but it looks like his eyes light up.

“hey,” he says, closing the notepad in front of him. you present the spider-man comic to him, and he flashes a smile at you. “what’d you think?”

you chuckle, holding the comic close to your chest. “it was good, but too short. there’s another issue, right?” you joke, hoping it lands.

he lets out a giggle, “yeah, there definitely is. i’ll grab the next one for you.”

he walks over to a section near the front of the store, flipping through the excess of papers before he finds the 2nd issue. “if you liked that one, you’ll like this one even more.” he returns to the register with the issue, placing it on the counter for you.

“duel to the death with the vulture?” you read from the page. “i haven’t seen any of the movies recently so correct me if i’m wrong, but i don’t remember there being a vulture.”

“oh yeah, he’s in one of the later movies actually,” mark starts. “but you got a long way to go til you finally meet one of the iconic villians like the green goblin, or even the love interests gwen stacy or mary jane. it’ll be so worth the wait though.”

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, already pulling out your wallet.

“you can borrow it if you want,” he says.

“but this one belongs to the store, won’t you get in trouble?” you ask.

“just bring it back and it’s like it never happened,” he whispers, faking a shhh at you. “let’s just say it’s mall employee perk.”

you smile and accept it.

your new routine feels like a nice change of pace. every second of every day used to drag by, and yet at the same time, when you got home, everything that happened was so unbelievably boring that it all felt like a blur. nothing really significant happened to you. but something about trying something new, learning about a brand new niche interest, and even developing a crush… it’s finally something exciting.

you looked forward to the next time you got a new issue. not just that, but the next time you got to talk to mark. he has this charm about him that piqued your interest. it feels so easy to talk to him, as if you’ve already known each other for a long time and it isn’t just a budding friendship. you’d find yourself stopping by the comic book store a few times a week, anticipating the next comic and the underlying tension between you and mark.

like today, when you finally got off of work after a long shift. you were able to close up shop quickly and now you’re walking over to the comic book store, attempting to run in before mark locked up.

“hey, is it cool if i get the next issue real quick?” you ask, popping your head in the store.

“yeah, one sec,” he says, looking up from counting the cash in the register. “lemme just finish closing up the register.”

“are you implying that you’re gonna let me borrow another comic?” you ask, a flirty tone floating beneath.

“well of course,” he says, swiftly closing the cash drawer. “unless you want to start collecting, which by the way, SUPER expensive.”

“i think i’ll stick to being a casual reader for now,” you joke, approaching mark at the register.

“i don’t know, you might change your mind after this one,” he says, grabbing a comic from his bag. he holds it out to you, you grabbing it with your fingers briefly brushing past his. the motion makes you feel a little dizzy, and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.

you shake your head, realizing this one doesn’t belong to the store. “wait, is this your own personal comic?”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he says, half focusing as he’s writing something on a sticky note at the counter. “i brought it in so you can borrow it.” you can see the corner of his mouth turning up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“you didn’t have to do that—”

“i wanted to,” he says, lifting his head up to hand you the sticky note he was writing on. “just treat it with care.”

you take the note, which is pale blue with a cartoon spider-man in the corner. in the middle of the note is a scrawled out phone number. you look up to see mark rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“if you want to tell me what you think?” he says, almost like a question.

“or maybe when i get bored during my shift?” you ask, chuckling.

“i’d like that a lot actually,” he smiles, his previous nervousness quickly washing away.

“you’ll regret it though,” you say, sticking the note on the front page of the comic. “because i get bored here a lot.”

“don’t worry,” mark laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t think i’ll get sick of you anytime soon.”

you finally reached issue #14 of spider-man, the one mark is lending to you. you grab it out of your bag at the beginning of your shift, sitting back in your chair behind the register and getting comfortable. you realize what it’s about and immediately text mark.

sent 10:17 am omg wait i didn’t realize this issue is the first appearance of the green goblin

you look across the way, seeing mark pick up his phone and smiling.

sent 10:18 am mark: oh yeah, he’s fuckin sick mark: you’re gonna love it

you click your phone off with a soft sigh, flipping back to your comic. you go about your shift switching from helping customers and checking them out, and reading. every once and a while, you’ll message mark with your comments and he would always reply with enthusiasm.

the end of your shift approaches quickly, and soon enough you’re closing the security shutters. you look behind you to see mark locking the doors and then doing the same. he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he turns and flashes his famous smile to you. you walk over to him with the comic in hand.

“you were right,” you say, handing it him. “green goblin is super sick.”

“i told you,” he says, reaching for it, and your hands momentarily touching like last time. he gets flustered. “uh, i can give you the next one tomorrow if you’re working.”

“i am, yeah,” you reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i am so curious though—when the hell does gwen stacy show up?”

“oh,” he giggles to himself. “you’re like, halfway there to finally seeing her.”

“i didn’t realize how extensive this series is,” you chuckle. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually surprised by how much i like it.”

“i’m glad,” he says sweetly. “well, just come by tomorrow and i’ll give you the next issue.”

“i will.”

the following weeks, you became overtaken by superhero comics and stupid-fucking-adorable mark. you would read an issue of spider-man at work, and text mark with your reactions to certain scenes. at first you thought it might be annoying to him, but he actually seemed to encourage it, asking for your opinions on the characters and storyline.

it doesn’t help that every time you see mark, you get butterflies in your stomach. and it seemed to only be getting worse; you keep finding yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. you wake up excited to go to work, because you know you’ll probably have another interaction with him. sometimes, mark would even catch you staring at him and give a little nod with a smile. but what made things exponentially worse was when you catch him gazing at you too, catching you off guard but making a smile spread across your lips. you are smitten, and if anyone else was concerned, mark is probably smitten too. the issue is getting him to finally take the hint and making a real move on you.

he may get a little flustered around you, but he’s not exactly shy. after all, he did give you his number unprompted. but after weeks of going back and forth strictly talking about comics and work, you started to lose hope. you just want him. he must want you back just as bad.

after another closing shift, you watch the mall-goers pass by and file out of the building. the mall is basically empty now, most of the neighboring stores already closed and employees leaving for the day. you had to stay a little bit late, cleaning up a huge mess in the store from some rude customers. you thought you would have time to stop by to see mark, but with the amount of things you have to put away, your chances are looking slim.

you shuffle around the store, placing items back on the shelves and organizing the tables of merchandise. you eyes shift over to the comic book store, expecting to see it dark and locked up. but it isn’t; mark is still in there, half the lights still on, with him unboxing comics from their latest shipment. you already knew it was restock day for them (god you have way too much free time), but you didn’t realize how many boxes they got in.

you open the front door of your store, whisper-yelling through the security shutters. “mark!”

mark’s head turns to look at you and flashes a grin at you. “yo, you’re still here too?”

you nod, leaning on the glass door. you hold up a few of the displaced items in your hands. “go-backs,” you shrug.

he points at the pile of boxes in front of him, “restock. we got a lot of shit in early for christmas.”

“don’t say christmas please, i don’t want to think about it yet,” you say with a laugh.

you turn away to get back to work, putting all the merchandise back to their assigned spots. you don’t know what the hell got into people today; messing up all your organization you’ve done and putting things in all the wrong places. it didn’t help that you had to deal with some assholes with returns today too. you always theorize it’s from a full moon or mercury retrograde or something; those things must be the reason people start acting up.

after about an hour of cleaning, you finish up and can finally call it a day. you close up shop and turn to see mark still working on stocking at his store. you approach the security gate of the store, with its front door still propped open.

“i still need my next issue by the way,” you say to mark, who stands from his crouching position in front of an open box. he walks up to the gate and pushes it up, just enough for you to come through. you look hesitant.

“come in, it’s okay,” he says, motioning you in. you duck under the security gate, slipping into the store. “how was your day? looks like you had a lot to do.”

“yeah, the store was a mess,” you say, following him to the register. “i’ve never had to stay so late after close.”

“it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets to christmas,” mark says while weaving around the boxes with you.

“what did i say about christmas?” you joke, nudging his shoulder softly.

“sorry, sorry,” he laugh, putting his hands up. you wait patiently for him as he kneels behind the register, looking for your comic. he pops back up with a stumped look on his face. “i swear i thought i put it up here to give to you but i can’t find it. i’m gonna go check the back.”

he starts walking to the back room, and looks back at you. “feel free to sit if you want. our stockroom is a wreck, this might take a sec.”

you nod to him, squeezing past the tower of boxes to sit in the chair at the register. it feels kinda funny to sit back here, like you’re seeing the store from a different perspective, from mark’s perspective. you look around behind the counter, seeing the little notes and cute super-hero knick knacks gathered around.

there’s a mini batman funko pop positioned in the corner, with a sticky note placed under his feet reading “no drinks at the register.” you look over to see a large iced coffee with mark’s name in sharpie. well, we all bend the rules a bit. his name tag is placed on the counter by a stack of comics. you grab it to take a closer look. it’s a plastic red pin with a white pop-art bubble. in the corner is a small piece of paper stuck on it, attached with office tape. on the paper is a spider-man doodle, made with red and blue marker and pen ink.

you’re sure this must’ve been drawn by mark. you have yet to see any of his drawings (despite your prying), so maybe seeing this one up close will give you a sneak peek into his style. it’s a little messy, with scratchy lines and colors bleeding outside the borders. despite that, it has a distinct style that you’re fond of. it’s not perfect, let alone does it look like the super-heroes you’ve been reading in your comics. but it has a quality to it that feels less polished and flat. it has character. the messiness makes it feel more… real.

you set his name tag down, placing it back next to the large stack of comics. these must be his go-backs. he’s been so wrapped up with his shipment he probably hasn’t had time to put them away. you think maybe it would be nice to help a bit. he’s been nice enough to let you borrow comics from the store, and you’re just waiting around after all.

you pick up the stack of comics, situating them into your arms, when you look down and see that under the stack is mark’s notepad. it’s not closed like you’re used to seeing it, opened to a clean white page with a drawing covering up a majority of it. it’s in a comic book style, you’re not surprised. but it has the same quality that his name tag doodle does; scrawly and messy, with no real precise lines. the colors are splashed across the page, with blotches of scribbled colored marker decorating it. then realize what it is—who it is.

it’s you.

the whole image captures you and a little bit of your surroundings. positioned at your normal spot at the register, you’re looking down at a comic with your fingers playing with the ends of your hair. but it has a dream-like feel to it, with the pages of the comic illuminating your face as if a source of power is emanating from it. and then the best part: the wings. placed behind your shoulders are pair of feathered wings, outstretched in a sketched black ink. it’s beautiful.

it’s beautiful and it’s you. mark drew you.

“yo, sorry that took so long,” mark says while emerging from the back, eyes still focused on the comic in his hands. “i finally found it, but dude i had to do some digging—”

mark’s words are cut short when he notices you holding his notepad, comics that were placed atop abandoned on the counter by you. he visibly gulps.

“mark…” you start, not moving your eyes from the drawing. “what’s this?” without a response for a few moments, you tear your eyes away to see mark with blush on his cheeks, mouth open but unable to let any words out. “did you… did you draw me?”

“look, it gets really slow during the day, i just did a little sketch to pass time—”

“mark, this isn’t just a sketch,” you say, looking back down at the notepad. “this is amazing.”

“y-you like it?” mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“of course i like it,” you say.

“you don’t think it’s weird that i drew you without telling you?” mark asks, nervousness radiating from him.

“i don’t think it’s weird at all,” you say. “i actually love it. i like that you drew me as a superhero too, and one with wings at that.”

mark stays quiet, looking at his feet and probably overthinking everything right now. you look back up at him, tension building in your stomach as you ask what you already know the answer to. “you like me, don’t you?”

mark lifts his head to meet your eyes. he bites his lip anxiously as he nods slowly.

a streak of courage overtakes you as you grab his arm to pull him closer, him tripping over his own feet and crashing into your chest. you’re leaned against the counter, with mark’s arm behind you and hand placed flat on the surface. your faces are close, and you can feel his breath. his eyes are glued onto your lips, and he swallows thickly.

“mark, just kiss me,” you mumble, aching for him.

he wastes no time, leaning in to slot his lips between yours. he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you as close as he can. you melt into him, goosebumps floating across your skin in all-consuming desire. you move your hand to hold his cheek, thumb swiping on his smooth skin and fingers tangled in his soft, messy hair.

he pulls away, breath still shaky. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long…” he trails off before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion. he swipes his tongue between your lips, with you willingly accepting him. his hands trail up and down your sides, then finally places a firm grip on your waist and lifting you to sit on the counter. he slots between your legs, his body pressed close to yours. your fingers card through his hair, earning a sweet hum from him.

his hands trail down to your ass, pushing you closer against him to where you feel the bulge forming in his jeans. he can’t even hold back his moan, it being muffled by your lips. he pulls away again, this time kissing from your cheek down to your neck. he sucks at the expanse of skin while he caresses the other side of your throat. you let out a soft hum in pleasure, savoring every bite and lick—

“fuck, you sound so hot too,” he says in between kisses. he moves a hand down to your breast, kneading it roughly. you throw your head back, soaking in the pleasure from just his hands alone. his beautiful fucking hands, the ones that drew you. his lips feel so good on you, but his hands feel even better. it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for eternity and he doesn’t want to let you go. almost as if holding you, touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. it doesn’t feel real to you either; that mark, the cute boy you’ve had a crush on for weeks and weeks is kissing you, holding you, and yearning for you all the same.

you feel so wrapped up in the moment that you almost forget that you’re in public. sure, there’s no one left in the mall and the only people left are probably mall security, but the risk of being seen is still there. it just feels too good to stop.

“mark,” you say, giving in to the anxiety. “are we really doing this? right here, right now?”

he pulls back to look at you, still holding you close. “it’s just us here, and if it’s okay with you, i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“i don’t think i can either,” you respond.

suddenly mark is ripping your clothes off, all while pulling you both behind one of the comic display cases. it’s your turn to take his clothes off, and you’re yanking his jacket off and pulling up his graphic tee and discarding them both on the floor. the exchange is a jumbled mess of constant touching of skin and clothes flying in every direction, a true testament to how desperate you both want each other. he’s kissing you all the while, taking every opportunity to peck at you between the tugging of clothes.

he leans you against the display bookshelf full of comics, completely unbothered when an issue or two falls off. your hand travels down into this jeans, feeling him hard and pulsing against your palm. you stroke his length slowly, focusing most of the stimulation on his dripping head. he lifts one of your legs slightly to get better access to you under your skirt, then looks at you as if he’s asking for permission.

you nod your head profusely before leaning in to kiss him deeply. it doesn’t last long, because suddenly he’s pushing inside you and you’re gasping at the stretch—

“you’re so—fuck—so fucking tight,” he hisses, attempting to push in as slowly as he can. your mouth is fully agape in bliss as he finally bottoms out, reaching deep inside of you. he catches your eyes, lust filled in his own as he slowly starts to move.

he’s slow at first, knowing that his size is stretching you out to the point where it’s nearly painful. but it feels so fucking good, his cock dragging in and out of your tight walls. you can tell he wants to pick up the pace, with his breath shuddering with each stroke. you take the opportunity to kiss him again, wanting to taste his soft lips as he gradually begins to pound into you.

he’s groaning against your lips, and your moans are muffled against his. you’re trying to salvage any sort of public decency by holding back your sounds the best you can. it’s when he grabs your legs and lifts you to press you against the display shelf that you realize that that shred of awareness of your surroundings is about to be long fucking gone.

he’s holding you up by gripping your ass, pistoning into you at a pace that you can only describe as brutal. it’s no use trying to stifle your moans anymore, with him hitting your cervix over and over and making you see stars at each stroke—

“mark, it feels so fucking good,” you can only whine out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter, tugging at his hair—

“you feel so fucking good, jesus,” he groans against your neck, heaving breaths tickling at your throat.

his pace is wild, but the force in which he’s pounding into you begins to cause the comic books around you to tumble off the shelves, creating a pile at mark’s feet. he doesn’t seem to care though. that is, until a comic book falls from a shelf above you and hits him on the head.

“ah!” he exclaims, realizing what happened. he stops his movements to look at you, holding back a smile.

you can’t hold back your laugh, giggling profusely at the ridiculousness of the situation. he laughs too, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“this is crazy,” he says, resting his forehead on yours.

“i know,” you reply, still giggling. with one last laugh, he leans in and kisses you tenderly, smile still formed on his lips. you melt into him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as he begins to pick back up the roll of his hips into you.

it feels like a sweet moment, the fact that you can be doing such a scandalous act and still giggle with him. the tenderness doesn’t last for long, however, when he hits that perfect spot inside you that forces you to release a sharp moan.

“mark, oh my god,” you whimper, attempting to roll your hips down onto him. “keep doing that, please—”

“fuuuck,” he groans, feeling your core clenching around his length. “you take me so well, baby.”

all you can do now is nod, whimpering and whining on him. you can’t believe that this man that has always been so endearing, so kind and lovable has this completely different side to him that you’re only now getting to experience. it brings a different sort of intrigue to him; that he’s more than just a cute boy that works at a mall. he’s complex. he’s a fucking man. he’s a fucking. sex. god.

his breathing starts to become irregular, and his pace is back to merciless. his groans, fuck, his moaning. he’s bouncing you on his cock in the perfect way to where your moans are matching his. you can feel his dick pulsing inside you—

“i’m gonna cum,” he can only breathe out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “can i?”

“yes mark, please,” you whine, tugging at the ends of his hair. all the while you’re clenching around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

with a low groan, his hips stutter and you feel his seed spilling into you, completely filling you up. the rocking of his hips stall, and he’s finally letting you down and kissing you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“god, you are fucking perfect,” he whispers to you. you let out a giggle, leaning your forehead against his. “hey, i’m not done with you yet.”

he quickly moves you to the glass display counter, lifting you to sit you on it. he pushes your thighs open, lifting your skirt up to get a better look at you. he looks enamored, like he’s starving and the only thing to appease his hunger is by having you on his mouth.

he dives in, licking a stripe up your core with a groan. he repeats this action, as if he’s savoring every drop of your essence mixed with his release that’s slowly dripping out of you—

“so fucking hot,” he hums, releasing a hand from your thigh to tease at your entrance.

“mark, please,” you beg. “stop teasing—”

he attaches his mouth to your clit, swirling his tongue around in smooth, controlled circles. your hands fly to his head, body already twitching from stimulation. his finger is still prodding at your hole, wanting to enter but not just yet. he instead continues to ravage at your sensitive bud, intentional movements making your head spin. he knows what he’s doing and he knows he’s good, especially with the shaking of your thighs and high pitched moans escaping your lips egging him on.

he looks up at you, flattening his tongue out and doing long, drawn out licks. the eye contact is insane, the lust filled in them only making it that much hotter. he’s enjoying every second of this, seeing you shake and begging him to keep going. he loves the taste of you too, so sweet and almost addictive. he could die like this.

his teasing finger finally starts to deepen inside you, slowly at first. he can feel every pulse of your core around his finger, and it’s so hot that he can feel himself getting hard again. and you’re so wet, oh my god, so fucking wet. your arousal is dripping down his chin and his hand, making a sticky mess. when you start to roll your hips onto his face, he swears he’s in heaven.

he inserts another finger, feeling that tightness grip around them. it’s only getting more erratic now, clenching around him with each grind of your hips. he curls his fingers to prod at that sensitive spot, causing you to moan out his name—

“mark, don’t stop,” you whine, looking down at him basically making out with your pussy.

he continues the same movements, repeatedly hitting your g spot and swirling his dripping tongue on your clit. your back arches and legs unintentionally close around his head, making him push them back open with his free hand.

and then he starts humming against you. the vibrations send a shock wave through your body, that mixed with his fingers, his tongue, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh… it feels so intense and so so good. you cum on his tongue, with him desperately holding your hips down and he helps you ride out your high. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, and you have to grab his head and lift it.

“oh my god,” you gasp, slowly coming down.

he smirks up at you with arousal-coated lips. “yeah, oh my god.” he stands up, immediately going to kiss you and you accepting him, wrapping your arms around him. he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” he says, sighing out an exasperated laugh.

“i know, what the fuck, right?” you giggle.

“are you- are you doing anything right now?” he asks. “like, do you wanna get food or something?”

“are you asking me on a date?” you ask teasingly.

“don’t tell me you decided you’re creeped out by the drawing now,” he laughs.

“yeah. suuuper creeped out,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. you hear a noise behind you, and look out through the security shutters to see a mall security guard passing by, scrolling through his phone.

“looks like he just missed the show,” mark says, causing you both to try and hold back your fit of giggles.

a/n: thank u guys for reading! i rly enjoyed this one hehe :-) please leave feedback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

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[heartsbyani]

a song , that sounds like you

[ 한 ] ✷ ‎. . sleepover with your best friend, just like before. except that . . it isn't ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏sf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , best friends to lovers , uni au , skz ensemble . 71OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. kisses , jokes , intimacy . ┆ 💌 ⋮ requested drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ~I.5K WORDS. yani, dont over-write and turn every simple thing into a longfic challenge: go-> status: failed. THATS WHY I TOOK SO LONG. but anyways.... i read this like a gazillion times and im very slightly unhappy about it????? idk. but i got sick of it at some point so i didnt rly proofread for the final time. soooo finally another jisung fic lol >< posted way too much abt seungmo.. not that im complaining hehe. tribute to my beloved permed-jisung and pre-shaved jisung🙏 you're missed plenty. enjoy reading, thanks to anon for the req. <3 comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the night felt like any other. it was nothing new. nothing unusual.

jisung had crashed at y/n’s dorm more times than he could count, so many that they’d stopped calling it a "sleepover" years ago. it was just… what they did.

tonight was no different—except maybe it was.

jisung flopped onto her bed dramatically, limbs splayed out like a starfish. "i'm dying."

y/n, arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow. "you literally just walked in."

"my point." he turned his head toward her, grinning wide, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "the walk from my dorm to yours? brutal. my legs almost gave up. i nearly saw the light. i need some support here,"

"what you need is exercise, ji," she laughed, already walking past him toward the kitchen. "come on lazy ass, we’re cooking."

jisung groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "cooking? can’t we order food? delivery is, like, the peak of human civilization."

"you mean the peak of your laziness."

"same thing."

"you’re cooking today."

jisung immediately sat up. "i’m sorry, what?"

"you heard me."

"y/n, have you ever seen me successfully make anything that isn’t watered-down instant ramen or burnt eggs?"

"exactly why you need to learn." she shot him a knowing smile, opening the fridge. "come on, chef-nim, apron up."

jisung scoffed. "you act like i own an apron."

"you act like i don't have a spare." she tossed a black apron his way. he caught it with a dramatic sigh, slipping it over his tee. "this is humiliating."

y/n simply tied her own apron around her waist, moving swiftly around the kitchen. jisung, however, stood in the middle of it like he was lost in a foreign land.

"so," he said, rocking on his heels, "what are we making, masterchef?"

"some fried rice, with stir-fry for the sides."

"sounds safe enough. do i get a knife?" his eyes lightened up.

y/n turned to him, eyes full of doubt, hands on her hips. "do i look like i trust you with a knife?"

he clutched his chest. "ouch."

"jisung, the last time you touched a knife, you almost lost a finger."

"it was one time!"

"one time too many." she handed him a bowl instead. "crack the eggs."

"i can do that," he said confidently.

y/n watched as he picked up an egg, tapped it on the edge of the bowl—nothing. he hit it again. still intact.

"jisung."

"hold on, it's just being stubborn."

"you're literally supposed to—"

before she could finish, he smacked the egg with full force. it exploded in his hand, yolk dripping between his fingers. he blinked.

"…okay. that was aggressive."

y/n burst out laughing. "oh, good lord.."

"why are you laughing?! this is tragic!" he held up his hand dramatically, as if he'd just lost a battle.

she wiped away tears of laughter. "you’re such a disaster."

"and yet you still keep me around."

"i really question why, sometimes."

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. "because you love me."

"debatable."

"wow. you wound me."

she handed him another egg. "try again, but gently this time."

he pouted but followed her instructions. on the second try, he succeeded. barely. a little bit of shell fell into the bowl, but he picked it out quickly, flashing her a victorious grin.

"see? improvement."

y/n shook her head with a fond smile. "barely."

as she moved on to frying the rice, jisung leaned against the counter, watching her. the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened her features, and the way she effortlessly moved around—it was second nature to her.

"you're so good at this," he murmured absentmindedly.

she glanced up. "at what?"

"everything," he said simply.

her movements stilled for a second before she rolled her eyes, turning back to the pan. "corny."

"honest."

she pushed his forehead lightly with her fingers. "shut up and hand me the soy sauce."

jisung grinned, grabbing the bottle and sliding it over the counter toward her. "see? i am useful."

"debatable."

jisung gasped. "you really enjoy hurting me, huh?"

y/n only smiled as she stirred the rice.

they fell into a comfortable silence after that—jisung humming some random tune, y/n focusing on the food. it was normal. routine. nothing new.

except maybe it was.

because jisung found himself staring at her a little longer than usual.

and yn, for some reason, felt a little warmer than the stove’s heat should allow.

the aroma of warm rice, sizzling kimchi, and soy sauce had filled the small dorm, wrapping them in the kind of comfort that only home-cooked food could bring. y/n hummed softly as she scooped the steaming fried rice onto two plates, making sure to add an extra spoonful to her best friend's because she already knew he’d ask.

jisung, sprawled out on the floor like he had no bones in his body, watched her with a lazy grin. "you really know how to treat a man."

"you’re more of a babygirl, but okay," she replied without missing a beat, setting the plates down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"excuse me? i am very much a grown adult."

"sure," she snorted. "a grown adult who can't crack an egg."

jisung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "low blow."

yn only grinned as she grabbed the remote, flipping on the tv. they didn't even bother picking something to watch—just let some random show play in the background while she scrolled through a playlist on her phone.

and just like that, the room filled with their favorite songs.

the playlist hummed in the background, weaving through the warm, dimly lit dorm like a familiar embrace. soft indie melodies blended into old tracks from their high school days, each song a quiet echo of late-night car rides and whispered confessions. nestled between them were jisung’s own songs—songs he had written on restless nights, songs y/n had begged him to release, songs he pretended not to care about being in the playlist but secretly loved seeing there.

the air smelled of soy sauce and garlic. jisung sat cross-legged on the couch, his loose shirt and plaid pajama pants slightly wrinkled. his fluffy brown hair that he'd recently gotten permed, much to y/n's pleading, was tousled, curls falling over his forehead, casting soft shadows over his sleepy eyes. he scooped up a bite of fried rice, humming in approval as he chewed, blissfully unaware of the way y/n was watching him.

she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting lazily against them, gaze fixed on him with a softness even she didn’t notice. he looked so at home, so effortlessly him, sitting there with his cheeks puffed out from the food she made, eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

he always ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“you’re staring,” his voice came, teasing yet laced with fondness.

y/n blinked, heat creeping up her neck as she quickly looked away. “i am not.”

jisung grinned, swallowing another bite. “liar.”

but he didn’t press further. he only smirked to himself, going back to his food, pretending he didn’t notice the way she studied him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

what he wouldn’t admit—what he barely admitted to himself—was that he did the same thing.

when y/n wasn’t paying attention, lost in the flickering candlelight of their tiny dorm, jisung found himself staring. he always did. the glow of the fairy lights made her skin look softer, her features delicate and warm. her hair, slightly messy from their earlier chaos in the kitchen, framed her face in a way that made his heart ache.

she was wearing her pyjama set, and the sleeves were bunched up around her fists as she absentmindedly traced circles against the couch cushion, after a bite herself.

she was beautiful. in the quiet, in the soft spaces between their banter, in the way she existed in his world so effortlessly.

“now,” she called out suddenly, breaking him from his trance. “you’re staring.”

his breath caught in his throat, but he recovered quickly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “i am not.”

“liar.”

their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the weight of their hidden feelings melted into the warmth of the night.

jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he shoved another spoonful of rice into his mouth. he chewed slowly, eyes flickering between the half-empty plate and y/n, her expression unreadable except for the teasing glint in her gaze. his own voice filtered through the small dorm, warm and unfiltered, singing lyrics he once scribbled down at 2 a.m., never expecting them to be heard by anyone but himself.

he swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip before muttering, “you do this on purpose.”

y/n tilted her head, feigning confusion as she picked at her food. “do what?”

“this.” he gestured vaguely toward the speaker, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “make me listen to myself.”

she shrugged, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your music is good.”

jisung let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was something uncertain in the way his fingers tapped against the bowl. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”

y/n blinked, chopsticks pausing midair. “i’m not lying.”

“you say that.” he glanced at her, then away, focusing on a loose thread on his pajama pants. “but you’re my best friend. you’d tell me it’s good even if it wasn’t.”

she frowned, setting her chopsticks down with a soft clink against the ceramic. “sung..”

he didn’t respond, just stuffed another bite into his mouth, chewing like he was trying to make himself busy. y/n sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. the glow of the fairy lights cast gentle shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he tried so hard to hide.

“look,” she started, voice softer now. “i don’t put your songs in our playlists just because you’re my best friend. i put them there because they belong there.”

jisung stilled, fingers tightening around his spoon.

“you write music that makes people feel something. i know because i feel it. i always have.” she toyed with the hem of her top. “and maybe it’s because i’ve seen you go through every stage of it. the late nights, the self-doubt, the way you talk about music like it’s the only thing that makes sense in your life sometimes.”

he swallowed thickly, staring at his plate like it held answers.

“i don’t just like your music, jisung. i believe in it. i believe in you.”

silence settled between them, thick and heavy, but not uncomfortable. jisung’s throat bobbed as he licked his lips, finally daring to meet her gaze.

something unreadable flickered in his eyes, something fragile and hesitant and real.

“…you always say things like that.” his voice was quiet, uncertain. “and i never know what to do with it.”

y/n smiled, small and knowing. “you don’t have to do anything. just don’t forget it.”

he stared at her for a moment longer, chest tightening with something he didn’t quite have the courage to name. then, exhaling softly, he looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“i won’t.”

they ate comfortably, stealing bites from each other's plates despite having the exact same food. it was normal, the way their chopsticks clinked against each other in midair, the way jisung would groan dramatically after every bite, acting as if he’d just tasted the best thing in the world.

"marry me," he said, mouth full.

y/n gave him a look. "chew first."

he swallowed, grinning. "okay, now will you marry me?"

"no."

jisung clutched his chest. "you are cruel, woman."

"you are an idiot, man."

"a lovable idiot," he corrected, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

she rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

a beat of silence passed between them, the kind that wasn't awkward but rather filled with something unspoken. jisung glanced at her between bites, again, watching the way the light from the tv flickered against her skin.

she looked… soft. comfortable. the same as always, but maybe not quite.

"so," y/n spoke suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "how was your day?"

jisung blinked, needing a second to process the question. they spent most of their time together, but during classes, they went their separate ways. it was rare for them to actually talk about what happened when they weren't in the same place.

"uh," he started, stabbing his rice absentmindedly. "it was fine. boring. had a music composition lecture, but hyunjin fell asleep and snored loud enough for the whole class to hear."

y/n laughed. "no way."

"swear to god. professor park just stared at him for a solid minute before moving on."

"did no one wake him up?"

"i tried, but he swatted me away like a fly."

she shook her head, still laughing. "what else?"

jisung hesitated for a moment before answering, "i worked on a song between classes."

her expression softened. "the one you told me about?"

"yeah." he looked away, suddenly a little shy. "i, uh, actually finished the demo."

"jisung!" she smacked his arm lightly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i dunno," he muttered, playing with his chopsticks. "didn’t seem important."

"of course it’s important," she said firmly. "can i hear it?"

he met her eyes, something flickering behind his own, before he looked down again. "maybe later."

she didn't push, just nodded. "okay. your turn to ask."

he raised a brow. "ask what?"

"about my day, genius."

"oh. right." he leaned back, lazily twirling his chopsticks. "so, how was your day, my dear best friend whom i love and adore?"

she snorted. "it was fine. boring, mostly. but i had this duo project in business class."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. "who’d you get stuck with?"

"a guy named sunwoo."

jisung froze mid-chew, his spoon hovering just inches from his lips. his brows furrowed for the briefest second before he blinked and forced himself to keep chewing, though suddenly, the fried rice didn’t taste as good anymore.

“i see..” he said after swallowing, voice casual. too casual. “never heard you mention him before.”

y/n shrugged, taking another bite. “yeah, we never really talked until today. he’s nice, though. smart, too. i was kinda worried i’d get stuck doing all the work, but he actually pulled his weight.”

jisung scoffed lightly, poking at his food. “that’s the bare minimum.”

she snorted. “true.”

silence stretched for a beat, the playlist shuffling to another song. jisung tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl, trying to ignore the weird feeling curling in his stomach. it wasn’t a big deal. just a project partner. nothing to think about.

except—

“he was pretty talkative, too,” y/n continued, oblivious to the way jisung’s grip on his spoon tightened. “like, at first, it was just about the project, but then he started asking me random stuff. like, my favorite color, what i do in my free time, my favorite coffee order—”

jisung let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “your coffee order? what, is he planning on getting you one next time?”

she blinked, considering. “i dunno, maybe. that’d be nice.”

jisung nearly choked on air. he coughed into his fist, shaking his head. “pfft. wow. sounds like he’s… really interested in your business skills.”

y/n laughed at that, nudging his leg with her foot. “oh, shut up. he was just being friendly.”

yeah, okay. sure.

he forced a grin, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth like it would somehow get rid of the weird, nagging feeling inside him. “so, what else did he say?” he asked, tone still light, still playful. still pretending he didn’t care.

y/n hummed, thinking. “oh, he told me i have a really nice smile.”

jisung almost dropped his chopsticks.

“oh! and that i have pretty hands,” she added, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. “which is funny, ‘cause i don’t really get the whole hand thing, but—”

“he said what?” jisung cut in, voice cracking slightly.

she blinked up at him, confused. “...that i have pretty hands?”

jisung squinted at her like she was missing something obvious. “who compliments someone’s hands?”

“i don’t know! i mean, i guess they’re kinda nice…” she examined her own fingers, flexing them under the fairy lights. “they do a lot for me, you know? writing, playing, cooking—”

“okay, but still,” jisung interjected, trying not to sound too whiny. “that’s like—textbook flirting.”

y/n snorted. “no, it’s not.”

“yes, it is!” jisung threw his hands up. “first, he asks about your coffee order—classic move, by the way—then he calls your smile nice? and now your hands?” he pointed a dramatic chopstick at her. “that’s next-level, y/n. that’s, like, hand-holding agenda.”

she gave him a flat look. “i think you’re overreacting. personally i'd love making friends like that.” she laughed.

“no, you’re underreacting!” he groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “i can’t believe this. my best friend is so oblivious.”

y/n just giggled, poking his knee. “oh, come on, ji. he was just being nice. and it’s not like i’m interested in him or anything.”

jisung perked up at that, a little too quickly. “you’re not?”

she shook her head, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth. “nope.”

something unspoken settled in the air.

jisung let out a quiet breath, something inside him easing—but he still had an annoyed little pout on his lips. “still. he was flirting. you just don’t see it ‘cause you’re you.”

“hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means,” he huffed, crossing his arms, “that you’re too cute for your own good, and guys like him are gonna keep trying to hit on you while you remain completely, utterly unaware.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard.

jisung realized what he said half a second too late. his ears turned pink.

“…anyway!” he cleared his throat, suddenly stuffing his mouth with rice. “this is good fried rice. really, really good.”

y/n just watched him, something unreadable in her gaze. a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

“dork,” she muttered under her breath.

and if jisung, in his flustered state, caught the way she was staring at him now—soft, fond, admiring—he didn’t say a word.

"sunwoo. what kind of dumb name is that?"

she laughed, shaking her head.

soon, the food disappeared slowly between them, the plates scraping softly as y/n absentmindedly pushed the last bits of rice around with her chopsticks. jisung, on the other hand, had long since finished and was now leaning back on his palms, his head tilted toward the ceiling, looking entirely too satisfied. he stretched with a deep sigh, his tee riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before settling back down.

"i’m convinced you were a chef in a past life," he said, breaking the silence, his voice laced with a kind of sleepy contentment.

y/n smirked, still focused on her plate. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

"it is a compliment," he assured her, turning his head to face her. his cheek was slightly squished against his shoulder, making him look more like a sleepy puppy than a grown man. "i’m genuinely scared of what would happen to me if you weren’t around. i’d probably live off ramen and instant rice."

"you already do that when i’m not around. and still make it taste bad."

"exactly," he said, as if she had just proven his point. "my body is, like, seventy percent sodium at this point."

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "that explains a lot, honestly."

jisung gasped dramatically. "are you saying i look like someone who eats too much sodium?"

"i’m saying your diet is concerning," she teased, finally setting her chopsticks down and leaning back as well. the food had settled warmly in her stomach, and the atmosphere felt hazy in the best way—soft, familiar, comfortable.

jisung groaned, letting his head fall back. "this is why i need you in my life. you balance out all my self-destructive tendencies."

y/n snorted, stretching out her legs. "i’m your best friend, not your dietitian."

"best friend and dietitian," he corrected lazily.

she hummed, letting the conversation drift into a natural lull. the tv played quietly in the background, an old sitcom neither of them was paying attention to, and their playlist continued to shuffle through songs they had both heard a thousand times before. outside, the city was alive, but in their small little bubble of a dorm, it felt like time had slowed down just for them.

jisung shifted, sitting up properly, and y/n could feel him staring before she even turned to look at him. "what?" she asked, raising a brow.

he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, "i want you to be in my song."

the words were simple, casual even, but they made something in y/n’s chest tighten. she blinked. "what?"

"my demo," jisung clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. "i want you to sing in it."

yn let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "jisung, you know i don’t do that."

"why not?" he tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "you’re literally so good. like, so good."

she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "it’s just a hobby for me, you know that."

"okay, but why just a hobby?" his voice had that familiar edge of insistence, the same one he used when he really, really wanted something. "you could do so much more with it."

she shrugged, eyes flickering to the tv even though she wasn’t really watching. "it’s not the same for me as it is for you," she said honestly. "music is your thing, jisung. you breathe this stuff. it’s not like that for me."

"but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it," he argued, leaning in slightly. "i love your voice, y/n. you know that."

she swallowed, feeling warmth crawl up her neck. he had told her that before—countless times, actually—but something about the way he said it now felt different, heavier. "it’s just not something i see myself doing seriously," she admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

jisung was quiet for a moment, his eyes studying her face carefully. then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "okay. but what if it’s just for me?"

she looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he started, tapping his fingers against his knee absentmindedly, "forget about, like, doing music professionally or whatever. i just want you on this song. not because i think you should be an artist or anything—just because it’s us. i dunno. i feel like it’d sound better if you were in it."

y/n bit her lip, uncertain. she liked singing, she always had, but she never really thought about it beyond the occasional harmonizing with jisung when he played guitar, or the times she mindlessly hummed while cooking. it was never something she considered putting out there for other people to hear.

jisung, however, was looking at her with those big, expectant eyes, his wide smile softened at the edges. "just think about it," he said, nudging her knee with his. "no pressure. but i think it’d be cool. i mean, imagine—our voices together in a song? legendary."

yn laughed, shaking her head. "you’re ridiculous."

"i’m right," he corrected.

she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "i don’t know, ji."

he pouted, but there was no real disappointment in his face—just patience, quiet and steady. "i’ll send you the demo," he said after a beat. "just listen to it. see if you like it."

she nodded slowly. "fine. i’ll listen."

jisung grinned, victorious. "that’s all i ask."

another silence stretched between them, this one softer, almost charged in a way y/n couldn’t quite explain. the tv droned on in the background, but neither of them was paying attention.

jisung shifted again, stretching his legs out next to hers, their knees knocking slightly. he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "i like nights like this," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself.

yn turned to look at him, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones under the dim light. "like what?"

"just…chill." he cracked one eye open, looking at her. "you. me. food. music. no stress."

she smiled softly. "yeah. me too."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes again. "we should do this more often."

y/n didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between them. she thought about how much time they already spent together, how their days were filled with each other in some way or another.

and yet, something about the way he said it—like he wanted more, like he wasn’t just talking about casual hangouts but something deeper—made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

she swallowed, nudging his foot lightly with hers. "we already do this all the time, idiot."

jisung smiled, eyes still closed. "yeah. but i mean more."

y/n’s heart did something weird in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, jisung sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. "anyway. we should clean around before the angry yunah gets back and starts lecturing us about leaving dishes out."

the moment was gone, dissipating like smoke, leaving yn slightly dazed in its wake.

she nodded, shaking off the strange warmth in her chest, pushing herself up as well.

"right. let’s clean up."

and just like that, the night continued, soft and slow, something unspoken lingering between them—unnoticed, or maybe just ignored.

. . .

the dishes had been washed, the leftovers tucked away, and the night stretched lazily ahead of them, the warm haze of comfort lingering in the air. the tv was still on, playing something neither of them was paying attention to, but y/n could feel the way the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, filled with something unsaid.

jisung sat on the floor again, back resting against the couch, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against his knee. now, his sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair was messier now, some strands sticking out in different directions. he looked soft like this—less like the flirty, chaotic mess he usually was and more like the boy she had always known, the one who could say a million things with just a glance.

y/n sat across from him, legs crossed, arms draped over her knees as she studied him. she hesitated for a moment before saying, “play it for me.”

jisung blinked, caught off guard. “huh?”

“the song,” she clarified, shifting slightly. “i wanna hear it.”

he stared at her for a second before scoffing. “you never wanna hear my songs before they’re done.”

“um, wrong, you always reject to play them for me before they're done.” she pointed, trying to sound casual. “i feel like listening everytime. and tonight.”

“and my guitar is right here, so..” she laughed.

something flickered across jisung’s face—surprise, maybe, or something softer—but he didn’t question it. instead, he reached for her guitar, a brown one, which had burgundy, floral borders over its peaks and edges. it had been sitting next to the couch all night, like it had been waiting for the right moment.

he adjusted it on his lap, fingers finding the familiar curves of the wood, the smoothness of the strings beneath his touch. the way he handled just.. guitars had always fascinated her—not just with skill, but with love, like it was an extension of himself, a second voice that spoke when words weren’t enough.

y/n watched, her chin resting on her palm as she took in the tiny details she had seen a hundred times before but never really noticed—the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were already singing in his head, the way the warm light from the tv cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip.

he cleared his throat. “okay, but don’t judge, ‘cause it’s still rough.”

she rolled her eyes. “i never judge.”

he gave her a look, but it was softened by a small smile before he looked down at his guitar again. his fingers moved, the first chords filling the room—gentle, familiar, warm.

and then, he sang.

his voice was low at first, careful, like he was still unsure if he wanted to let her hear it. but as the melody flowed, he eased into it, his tone settling into that effortless, raspy sweetness that always made something deep in y/n’s chest ache.

she watched, completely entranced, as his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the song. the way his throat moved as he sang, the subtle shifts in his expression, the slight crease in his brow when he hit a note just right—it was all so undeniably han jisung, and it was beautiful.

she had heard him sing countless times before, but something about this was different. maybe because it was just the two of them, the world outside forgotten. or maybe because she was finally allowing herself to see him, really see him, in a way she hadn’t before.

his voice filled the room, smooth and raw all at once, laced with emotion that made her chest feel tight. and the lyrics—god, the lyrics.

it was soft, bittersweet, almost like a confession hidden within the melody. he sang about late nights and lingering glances, about feelings that hovered on the edge of something more, about someone who felt like home.

and y/n couldn’t help but wonder—who was it about?

her breath caught slightly as she watched him, taking in the way his lashes cast the faintest shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his lips curled slightly around certain words, like he meant them.

she felt something warm spread through her chest, something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

when he finally strummed the last chord, the room settled into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside.

jisung let out a breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “so… what do you think?”

y/n was still staring. she realized it a second too late and quickly looked away, blinking. “it’s…” her voice felt stuck in her throat, so she cleared it, trying again. “it’s beautiful, ji.”

he smiled, looking down as if trying to hide how much her words affected him. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she said softly.

another silence settled between them, this one different from the ones before. it wasn’t awkward—it was thick, weighted with something neither of them dared to name.

jisung shifted slightly, leaning her guitar against the couch. his fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous habit. “i meant what i said earlier.”

y/n tilted her head. “about what?”

“about you being in the song,” he said, his voice quieter now. “your voice would fit perfectly. you have this way of making things sound… real. i dunno how to explain it, but i think it’d be better if you were part of it.”

“i know you don’t take singing seriously, and you did say you'd listen to the actual demo.. oh which i know means a no, almost,” he cut in before she could refuse, “but just this once. just for this song.”

y/n exhaled, her fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve. “why does it matter so much to you?”

jisung opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was debating how honest he wanted to be.

finally, he shrugged. “because it’s us.”

her heart skipped.

“i mean, not us us,” he added quickly, looking away. “just… our voices. together. i think it’d be nice.”

y/n swallowed. “i don’t know if i’d be any good.”

“you would,” he said, no hesitation. “and i’d be with you the whole time. we’d do it together.”

together.

the word settled deep in her chest, warm and heavy.

she looked at him again, at the hopeful glint in his eyes, at the way he was watching her like she was something more than just his best friend.

and maybe, for the first time, she let herself wonder—what if she was?

she exhaled slowly, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “okay.”

jisung blinked. “okay?”

“i’ll do it,” she said, and his entire face lit up in that way it always did when he was really happy, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t fully understand.

“you won’t regret it,” he promised, excitement buzzing in his voice.

she wasn’t sure if that was true.

because something told her that once she sang with him, once their voices blended together in a song meant for something deeper—

there would be no going back.

and that terrified her more than anything.

. . .

sprawled out on jisung’s bed, surrounded by the soft hum of the laptop fan and the distant city sounds filtering through the window, y/n felt weightless. not in the way that meant floating away, but in the way that meant she was exactly where she was meant to be.

the air smelled faintly of fabric softener, of jisung’s vanilla-and-woodsy shampoo, of warmth. the blankets beneath them were slightly rumpled, evidence of a thousand previous sleepovers, tangled limbs, and late-night conversations that bled into early mornings. the glow from the laptop screen cast shifting patterns onto the walls, moving in time with the video they were watching.

it was their friend group’s latest dance cover, the kind they always hyped up in their group chat but never actually watched until they were together.

“look at hyunjin’s face,” jisung snickered, pointing at the screen as hyunjin executed a particularly dramatic spin, his expression intense. “bro thinks he’s in a movie.”

y/n burst into laughter, hiding her face in her hands. “no, because he so does that on purpose. you just know he was practicing in front of a mirror.”

“i bet he stared at himself for hours,” jisung agreed, shaking his head. “such a drama king.”

they continued watching, throwing in their own commentary as felix’s fluid movements took over the screen, followed by minho’s signature sharpness, yunah’s grace, and minseo’s precise footwork. their friends were insane, and as much as they teased, the admiration was real.

“minho-hyung’s on another level, though,” yn murmured, her head tilted slightly. “look at the way he controls his movements.”

jisung hummed in agreement. “yeah. he’s scary good.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, only the sound of the music playing through the laptop speakers filling the air. the bed dipped slightly where jisung had shifted, moving to lean on his elbow. yn could feel the shift in weight, the slight press of his arm against hers, the warmth of his body radiating closer than before.

she turned her head slightly—just a fraction—to look at him.

and that was when it happened.

something… shifted.

it was subtle, but it was undeniable. like a string pulled taut between them, an unspoken question hovering in the air.

jisung’s eyes were still on the screen, but his fingers had stopped absentmindedly tapping against the blanket. his jaw was relaxed, but his lips were slightly parted, like he had just thought of something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say out loud.

the glow from the laptop flickered across his face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin. his hair, slightly messy from the way he had been lying down, fell softly over his forehead.

and then, as if he could feel her looking, his gaze flickered to hers.

it wasn’t immediate. it wasn’t rushed.

it was slow.

deliberate.

his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them looked away.

the music in the background faded into something distant, something unimportant.

the flickering light, the sound of their breathing, the way the air seemed to press down on them—it all blended into something almost dreamlike.

jisung’s gaze dipped, just for a second, to her lips.

and y/n’s breath caught.

it wasn’t new, being this close. it wasn’t new, lying next to each other, watching something, talking about everything and nothing.

but this?

this was new.

this was different.

she could feel it in the way the space between them seemed to shrink, in the way her pulse thrummed in her ears, in the way jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

his hand twitched—just barely—against the blanket.

and then, before she could even fully process it, he moved.

slow. hesitant. but sure.

his fingers brushed against hers, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for an accident. but neither of them moved away.

yn exhaled shakily, her heart a wild drum in her chest.

and then, suddenly—

their lips met.

soft at first. just a press—a quiet, unsure thing that barely lasted a second.

but then she leaned in.

and he did too.

and it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was something more.

jisung’s lips were warm, careful, but there was a hunger beneath it, something restrained, something that had been waiting far too long to be acknowledged. his fingers found her wrist, featherlight at first before gripping just slightly, grounding himself.

her hands curled into the fabric of his tee, and he let out a quiet exhale against her lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

the laptop screen continued playing, casting shifting lights across their skin. the blanket beneath them was soft, but nothing—nothing—felt softer than this. than him.

he pulled away first, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.

his eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand what this meant.

as if asking, did we just cross the line?

but the thing was—

maybe there had never been a line in the first place.

maybe they had been here all along, just waiting for the right moment to realize it.

their breaths tangled in the space between them, warm and unsteady, still trembling with something unspoken. the moment felt like it stretched infinitely—long enough for y/n to take in the way jisung’s eyes flickered, dark pools of hesitation and something deeper, something unreadable.

his fingers, still curled loosely around her wrist, twitched, but he didn’t pull away.

the glow from the laptop continued to flicker, painting soft golds and muted blues across his face, across the fabric of his tee, across the slightly uneven threads of the blanket beneath them.

she felt warm.

not just from the shared heat between them, but from something in her chest, something that felt like a slow burn, like a realization creeping up on her.

jisung exhaled, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but then he stopped.

she blinked at him, suddenly aware of the way her heart was still hammering. loudly. so loudly she swore he could hear it.

“…we just,” she said, as if confirming it to herself.

“kissed.”

jisung let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah, we did.”

silence. not awkward, but charged.

y/n wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering sensation of his against hers. soft. he was soft.

then, jisung groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “oh my god. did i just ruin us?”

she blinked, before laughing softly. “you’re literally so dramatic.”

“i am not,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled.

“you are. like, so dramatic. like—oscar-worthy dramatic.”

jisung lifted his head just enough to glare at her, though the way his nose scrunched up made it less intimidating. “okay, miss i-just-kissed-my-best-friend-and-now-i’m-still-here-for-some-reason—why are you not freaking out?”

y/n tilted her head. “do you want me to freak out?”

“no?” his lips quirked. “maybe?” he groaned again, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “i just—wow, okay, so we really did just kiss. that happened.”

she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket. “do you regret it?”

jisung turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked.

his gaze trailed over the shape of her nose, the way her cheek was still slightly flushed, the way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, a few strands resting against her collarbone.

then, he whispered, “no.”

her breath hitched.

jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “do you?”

a beat of silence.

“…no.”

another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was softer. like a shared secret, like something that no longer needed to be questioned.

then, jisung shifted, reaching up lazily, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair. “okay. so. now what?”

she huffed a small laugh, flopping back onto the pillows beside him. “i have no idea.”

“that makes two of us.”

they both stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the sound of the laptop’s fan whirring quietly in the background.

then—

jisung turned his head toward her again, watching the way her lips pursed slightly in thought, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto the blanket.

slowly, carefully, he reached out, resting a hand against her arm. “can we—just. stay like this? for a bit?”

she turned toward him, eyes softening. then, instead of answering, she simply curled closer, letting herself nestle into his side, the fabric of his tee brushing against her cheek.

jisung let out a slow breath, his arm naturally slipping around her, his fingers resting against the dip of her waist.

she was warm.

he could feel her heartbeat, steady against his ribs, in sync with his own.

the scent of her shampoo filled his senses—something sweet, something vaguely floral, something hers.

the sound of their breathing intertwined with the faint music still playing from the laptop, a mix of their favorite songs.

jisung sighed, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head. “you’re kinda dangerous, you know?”

yn hummed sleepily. “oh? why’s that?”

“because i don’t think i’ll ever want to sleep without you now.”

she smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “good thing i’m not going anywhere, then.”

and for the first time that night, jisung felt like maybe—just maybe—things had fallen into place exactly the way they were always meant to.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[dropsnectar]

Courting a Queen: Bee Hybrid × Reader Part Two

Hey! So a lot of you wanted the Bee smut, so, here it is! I'm still new to writing smut so please be kind. Also, in @bunnis-monsters universe of Bee Hybrids, its mentioned that they have different types of Honey that have different properties and effects, so I wanted to play with that a little. Also just a reminder that I headcannon that the queen scouting drones are a bit more intelligent than other bee hybrids,, as this works better to lure in a queen! Hope you enjoy!

Everything had happened so quickly, you didn't know quite what to do or think. 

You'd just been talking and having fun with a few Bee Hybrids, now suddenly suddenly you were in their hive, they were calling you Queen, and it was getting really hard to talk your way out of this when you had so many tongues on your skin--

“Y-You guys I can't become your… oh God um… there's no way I can become a queen!” You tried your best to gently pull yourself out of their grasp, but the little nibbles Haven was doing on your ear were way too distracting. Elias answered you.

“We know you'd be great. Please dont be mean to yourself.” He pouted at you with big eyes as he worked on pulling down your black leggings. He carefully lifted your thighs as he did so and you noticed that his skin, while smooth and soft, also had a sort of firmness to it that human skin didn't. It made your core burn. 

“Are we doing something wrong? Please tell us my Queen, we only want to make you feel good.” Another hand was slowly exploring up your shirt. You looked over at Ray, the black haired hybrid who was staring at you with the biggest, mooniest eyes, like he was a dog begging for a treat. He trailed his hands up and down your belly, his hands were more beelike than the others, and the foreigners of it gave you goosebumps. 

Stop it! You can't become Queen! You'd never leave this place!

“I can't do this.” You finally managed, pulling away from Haven and Ray's grasp.

“I have a home. And a job and…”

And not much else. Your parents weren't the kindest, and you only ever saw your friends once every two months. If they remembered you that was.

Elias gently took one of your hands in his. “This can be your home! We would feed you and do whatever you want! You'll never be lonely again. Please. We've been so long without a Queen and…” His antennas drooped. So Did Haven and Rays, their exuberant wings going quiet.

“ We will die soon. Without a Queen our hive will grow weak, and other hives will fight us for our home territory.” Ray leaned his head gently on my shoulder, a whine escaping his chest.

Haven started to tear up. At least, he seemed to cry. “ We need you. We will never stop loving you, and you would never want for anything, please let us keep you.”

Your heart grew heavy. You didn't know much about bees, but you were aware that Queens were super important for the health of the hive. You had only known them for a day, but you couldn't bear the thought of them dying. They were so incredibly sweet after all.

Maybe I could try it for a little bit. I mean, being a Queen couldn't be so bad. You reasoned. And if it becomes too much, I could maybe help them find a new one. Or run away in the night, maybe.

“I'll… give it a try.” 

The three of them were in the air at once, pulling on your limbs and jumping up and down. Haven got up and did what seemed like a little happy dance, Elias joining in. While Ray continues to hold onto you and nuzzle you in large excited motions. You watched the two dancing and clapped happily. They buzzed loudly, seeming pleased with your smile and sudden lifted mood. They could feel your affection for them in the air and it bode well.

At that time, the bee-man that Elias had pulled aside earlier knocked on the door, before buzzing in with a cup of something sweet. Well, the whole place smelled sweet, but you noticed steam coming up from the cup. You tilted your head in confusion.

“He added some warm water to help you get it down easier! Your human after all, so thick things may be hard to drink, right?” Elias smiled and handed you the warm little cup. It smelled… well. Like honey. But their was a little heat to it. Maybe cinnamon? Nutmeg?

“Its super special, just for you!” Haven volunteered, as he settled back down to his place on your back left. He busied himself with rubbing your shoulder, then kissing the back of your head sweetly. 

All of this attention was making your cheeks rosy. To busy yourself you took an experimental sip of the warm honey. It went easily from your tongue down your throat. Expecting the taste of normal honey, you were surprised by the variety of notes. Still sweet, it indeed had a hefty… spice to it? Like it had been salted and mixed with a little chilli pepper. The heat of it spread from your throat, through your head and your body, making you shiver.

It was a feeling similar to hot chocolate on a long day out in the snow. Delighted, you slurped it down greedily. Ray laughed and the other two hybrids seemed very pleased. They watched you drink the whole cup, pride and their ever present excitement alight on every feature. 

You gave the cup back to Elias and smiled dreamily. You finally felt relaxed enough and tried to lie back on the couch, instead ending up in Ray and Havens arms. 

“That was really good.” You almost whispered. You were still warm from drink, and a haziness had softly draped itself over your brain. Soft. Warm. 

 Probably tired from a long day, you thought with a giggle. What a silly day it had been. What a silly situation.

Elias set the cup down on a table towards the door and floated toward you, a hungry look in his eye. Ray had decided to lap at your jaw now, making you shiver, again marveling at the strange texture his tongue had. Almost like a cat but smoother? Somehow? It felt good. 

The room was filled with pleasant buzzing and purring, as several pairs of hands started working your skin. Haven was now exploring the inside of your shirt, pulling excitedly at your bra. He felt around for a little bit, trying to find the latch. You noticed, through a big mirror by the door that his tongue was sticking out the whole time. You giggled. So cute.

A sudden nip to your inner thigh made you jolt. Elias had made his place between your thighs again and had started licking and nipping to getting your attention. He pouted at you until you gave him full eye contact.

“I'll get to breed you first, since I found you.” Elias said in the most innocent tone you almost didn't comprehend it. Until he was licking at your clothed cunt with his long black tongue. You whined a bit, in surprise and pleasure. It felt good. 

Haven must have figured out your bra because suddenly you felt fingers on your chest now. They moved around haphazardly, watching your face for a reaction. When one found your nipple you bit your lip and pried your gaze away from Elias for an instant. Havens face lit up in a smile.

“ Can I take this off, my Queen?” He asked in his delicate textured voice. You nodded and lifted your arms for them. A sudden jolt pulled your gaze back down to Elias, who was pouting at you. He had pulled your underwear aside and had started licking fervently between your lips. Those big, adoring eyes did as much to you as his tongue and you moaned out.

You were suddenly ablaze now, your core dripping and needy. It was sudden, and your hazy mind tried to work out how they'd got you gushing so fast. They were obviously new at this, reaching around trying to find your best spots, but you needed more. 

“T-take them off, please.” You begged Elias quietly, as your breath was quite ragged. Elias complied happily. You opened your legs wider for him, and he was able to push your lips apart farther so he could get a look at you. Enchanted, he took a finger and drew circles around you, noting when and where you would flinch, and jerk your hips. After experimenting a bit more he decided to suck on your most sensitive place: Your clit.

You howled out as he sucked and licked you, the texture of his tongue so different from anything you'd felt before. 

Haven and Ray were buzzing so loudly as the licked you, groping your sweet tummy, and sucking where they could. Ray had decided on sucking and when you sang for him, he started trilling with glee. Seeing this, Haven did the same. Their hands continued to roam.

The sucking of your tits and the attention on your clit were getting you close. The pressure in your stomach was mounting, and when Elias had decided to move two of his delicate fingers into your entrance you came hard around him, full body quaking. Drool pooled down your face as you gasped, stars filling your vision. 

“ Such a good Queen, coming for us so well.” Praised Ray, before he went back to assaulting your nipple with his tongue. Haven giggled and buzzed in agreement.

When you came down from your high, you were surprised to find yourself still wanting, wriggling, your skin so sensitive and desperate for more touch that you bucked yourself back into Elias’ face. The confusion persisted and you were about to ask a question when Elias answered.

“Don't worry, Our Love, we made sure you'd feel good enough to take all of us. Our honey truly is special. You won't feel any pain, we promise!”

The honey'd been… an aphrodisiac?

Something about that should have bothered you but all you could think about was having something inside you. Of wanting more of their touch, more more more-

You chocked as Haven started rubbing your clit, the sweet pressure bringing you some relief. Elias was taking his human clothing off now, revealing his lower half. His cock was long. Long, but super pretty and pink. You licked your lips as he lined it up with your wet entrance. His big, clear eyes stared at you with such devotion it bordered on worship, before he plunged himself within your needy walls.

You cried out, and it was like a wave of pleasure crashed through the room, as everyone sighed. He started slow, working himself further and further inside you as he went. The stretch and rhythm felt so good, you tried to work in time with him. His length was slick and warm and being so close to him only made your affection grow. You couldn't help it.

Ray and Haven were moaning in your ear. They were still sucking your tits, but were humping whatever bit of you they could, desperate and needy.

You wanted to help them but each stroke Elias was working in you felt so good your mind couldn't think properly. You stayed like that for a while, Elias hitting your best spots, sending you closer and closer to your limit, before he seemed to come, hard, a guttural sound leaving his throat. 

But instead of feeling hot, wet cum, you felt something push against your walls. A ridge was forming inside of you, pushing up through his member. The stretch was delicious and you keened as another traced its way up your walls. A sudden soft wetness, and a heaviness was felt at the innermost part of you. You'd never felt anything like it before and your walls twitched around it. An egg.

Your mind raced back to an earlier comment. You'd completely forgotten about the eggs. But your mind was so gone all you could do was whine at the tightness, as another was laid in you, and you came again, another wave of pleasure racking your mind and body. 

It went on like this, him laying one after the other, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again. You could tell Elias was getting utterly spent, his rocking movements slowing, the erratic flaps of his wings getting more labored. Drool continued to pool out of his mouth. His heavy meaningful gaze was now glassy and tired. You wanted to hold him. 

When the last egg was laid within you, Ray took his place in a flash. As Elias took his spot on your right, lazily sucking on your collarbone, Ray pushed himself in fully in one go. His dick was thicker, and not as long as Elias’, but it felt amazing around the eggs. 

“My turn. You'll take my clutch so well, I know it.” He reassured, rubbing his thumb like limbs on your hips as he slowly rutted into you. He was whispering praises about your beauty and how well you were doing the whole time. The stretch of his dick felt so good as he fucked the eggs further into you, adding his own. He was quicker than Elias to lay though. His eggs were much bigger, making you sputter a bit as you took them. It seemed that Bee-men came continuously as they laid their spawn, because he was a glassy eyed, babbling mess the whole time he pushed more into you. 

Haven took the longest time to lay, despite fucking you the fastest and hardest of the three. He giggled, so happy and pussydrunk the whole time. 

“My Queen, it feels so good. Am I making you feel good?”

“So good,” you confirmed through shaggy breaths.  “So good. My good boy.” You could feel a shock throughout the room and Haven smiled so big through his sweaty curls, that you couldn't help but return it. His hips rocked into you faster now, though he was still careful of your eggs.

The other two pouted, making crying vibrating sounds. “My good boys.” You corrected. “Doing so well.” you were so close to cumming again it was hard to think, but you reached both hands up to caress them both. Consoled, they clung to you even tighter, as if that was possible, whispering praises back. You were such a good queen, taking so many eggs. So good and sweet. 

Their words brought you over the edge at the same time Haven let out a loud trilling sound. He collapsed forward onto your lap, licking at your now extended belly. You both shook, riding out your high.

The room smelled of sweat, and their saccharine aroma. You realized you'd become a bit addicted to the scent, nuzzling closer into the soft fur of your new family. 

You lay there for a time, letting your bee-men fuss over you. They wiped the sweat from your body and cooed at your stomach, at how adorable you were being so full, and taking so many eggs. 

“Our lovely Queen. Did so well for you first mating.” Elias had glowed with pride for you, then  nuzzled into your neck in that way of his. “The rest of the hive is just going to love you. But for now, rest.” He petted soft loving strokes down your forehead. The motion was soothing, and you closed your eyes, letting sleep consume you.

Before you completely lost consciousness, you heard a worried Haven whisper, “I hope she makes us her attendants. It'd be such a shame to only see her when its our turn to mate.” You felt some nodding onto your shoulder and buzzing of agreement. You'd have to remember to ask them about it when you awoke.

Hey guys! Was this too long? Would love some constructive feedback about what you'd like to see more of! Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

We meet again | In-ho x Fem!Reader | PT1

Summary: It was only one night for fun, you never thought you would see him again. Even less in a place like this one.

PT2 PT3 PT4 END

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - Pregnant!Reader - Non canon background for In-ho -

Na-eun -> Coworker - Use of (Y/N) - Angst - Suggestive -

Gif by: @el-cheung

The ocassions where In-ho could leave the island and get himself a drink with normal people in a normal bar were slim.

He liked to think of these as vacations of some sort. Even if it was in a lost town in the coast. He still avoided big cities.

The place was nice nothing fancy like he is used to. And that gave him a nostalgic feeling, made him feel like he was not that man, the one making sure the games went on. But another normal man enjoying a drink.

"Can I buy you a drink" A female voice broke his thoughts.

He took a look at his left side and felt his heart flutter, god did you look gorgeous, your hair kind of a mess but in a good way, not too revealing clothes, eyes to die for, that made him think you were piercing his soul, and your smile, it was like the sun.

He gave you a polite smile but refused, knowing it was better for both to not get involved.

Such a coward he was.

"Oh cmon handsome, just one drink and I will let you in peace" You insisted getting a funny look from the barman

"Dont scare my clients off (Y/N)" He called over his shoulder.

In-ho saw you pout at the barman, you were most likely from this town, a local. Someone with a boring life, maybe you worked with lifestock or had a small store. He could picture you having a flower shop.

"Sorry if I bothered you" You finally said feeling his lost of interest and going to take your own drink and get back to your friends who most likely would taunt you for getting rejected.

"Wait" In-ho said making you stop. He knew it was a bad idea but he could not help himself.

"What type of Man would let a girl pay? Let me buy you a drink" He finally said giving you a small smirk. "Im In-ho" He introduced himself when you took the seat besides him again.

"In-ho" You repeated, teasting his name in your tongue. It sent a shiver down his spine that he tried to ignore. "Well, im (Y/N) as you probably hear, pleasure to meet you, visting the town?"

In-ho signal for the barman bring two more drinks while he nodded at you. "You can say that..."

"And? Are you liking it so far?" You asked taking a sip from your drink keeping eye contact.

"The views are...quiet splendid" He responded not taking his eyes off from you.

~○~○~○~○~○~○

One drink made him feel more relaxed, he could talk without having to take his words under much consideration, the next one made his body feel hotter, specially when you would touch his arm or shoulder and laught at something he commented.

Most likely it was not that funny.

And drink after drink, it got you two closer, talking quietly like you two were exchanging deep secrets. Faces red, eyes open looking for something more.

"Do you wanna leave with me In-ho?" You asked in a whisper one hand on his chest.

Oh, he really wanted to. He wanted to end this night with you screaming his name over and over again. Maybe he would fuck you so good you would not even be able to forget about him.

"Aren't you too drunk?" He asked, always the gentlemen.

You just scoffed at him but did smile, feeling warm because of his worry, most men would jump at the offer.

But he was not like most men.

"Im fine, im sure about this. I want to leave this place with you"

In-ho payed for the drinks and left with you that night.

And just as he had planned he got you screaming his name till no end. Till you cried that it was too much but kept pulling him closer.

It was messy, it was long, sweat fell from your tangled bodies. It was as it you two were made for each other.

The next morning In-ho woke up first, he could not help but let out a soft smile, seeing your sleepy face, hair a mess, and the marks from last night.

He was temped for another round...

But his phone buzzed.

He groaned taking it already expecting problems.

"Sir..."

And just like that the dream ended. He had to leave you like that. Not a goodbye or a phone to call. You weren't his first night stand but you were the only one he felt bad leaving behind.

If he had time...he would have loved to take you to a proper date.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Part of you had hoped he would stay, at least to have breakfast with you. You had said you made the best in town.

But no, the bed was empy only his marks stood behind and the cum between your legs.

You tried to move on from it. Telling yourself it was good sex at the end. And that he would not even stay at the small town for much time.

Did it hurt ?

Like a knife passing your arm.

And things were going to get much, much worse.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Hey (Y/N) are you alright in there?" The voice of your worried coworker called from outside the bathroom stall.

You went to respond but feel another gag coming making you unable to.

"Im fine, just morning sickness" You finally said, breathing hard and sweating while getting out from the stall.

"Oh be honest, I have a sister you know? Who was pregnant recently" You coworker insisted getting close and gently giving your shoulder a squish. "You are not alone in this" She smiled gently.

You wanted to believe her, but the reality was not on your side.

Yes, everything is fine, you just have a baby whos father left after one night stand. The man never tried to contact you again or leave a fucking note. And you were so wasted you forgot the after day pill.

Fuck it all.

On top of that, you had to leave the small town after load sharks came looking for your brother who being an amazing brother left a debt, and since your parents were long dead and you were the only family left, the debt fell on you.

Which made you have to move from the small and calm town to Seoul, under the threats of the fuckers on making the town suffer if you did not pay.

Part of you believed they were too lazy to travel between the town and Seoul. But you did not want to put the place at risk so you left.

And now here you were, in a shit job in a hole that dared to call itself "bar", alone, with debt and barely doing any money for you. All went to pay the debt, part for the rent and other part to get the healthiest food you could get for you and your baby.

"Why dont you move in with me?" Your coworker suddendly asked, "We can divide the rent, you would get more money for you and the baby"

"Are you sure? I dont want to be a burden"

"Its fine, I would not offer it to you if I was not sure"

And you found yourself crying, over happines for the first time.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

In-ho had to get back to the Island for the next games. Things were moving in their place, getting players and new games. The classic "red light green light" needed to stay since it did clean off most players, the most weak ones in his opinion.

His mind would wonder to you. He had no idea why, after all you two did not know each other on a deep level. And yet he found himself repeating that night. Not only the sex, it was amazing, maybe the best he had in a long time. But also your confidence, how you had approach him first, then respectfully you tried to get away once he gave you a negative response at first.

He had a fair amount of insisting women and it made his skin crawl in disgust, but no. You were not like that.

And your eyes, and smile. In-ho thought he could let lost in these, he could stare at your eyes all day and night, watch you in the dark and just feel happy because he was with you.

Him, a respected and feared man, who had everything when it came to power. He found himself wanting you, by his side. Maybe he could get back to that town and look for you. Date you like a proper Man and maybe, just maybe you would return with him.

He knew he was being selfish, being with him would mean saying goodbye to a normal life. A quiet life you most likely had.

It was a inner battle, the wish to keep tabs on you, so he could properly approach you next time and have the upper hand. Also, there was a need to keep you safe. He was not sure why, he just felt it.

However, things were never that easy.

The phone from his office rang, he picked up with his mask on, his voice muffled by it.

"Sir, player 456 its causing problems outside"

In-ho let out a very long breath trying to collect his thoguhts.

"I will deal with him myself"

And like that, the ideas of going after you were pushed aside, he needed to fulfill his task as The Front Man first.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

You held the picture in your hands while you waited for the next train. Your baby, or well it was suppos to be your baby, you could not make much of the shapes but the Doctor had said it was healthy and that was enough for you.

"Hey little one" You whisper passing one finger over the photo not caring about the rest of the world right now.

But life seemed to like taunting you.

"Excusme Miss" A well dress Salesman talked to you his smile gentle yet kind ot intimidating. "Would you like to play a game with me?"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"What happened to you!!" The suprise scream from your coworker and now roomate filled your ears as you entered the small aparment.

"Nothing, dont worry about it" You tried to go pass her but she held you in place.

"Nothing? Your left cheeck its all red! Did someone attack you?"

"No, nothing like that. Please I dont really want to talk about it..."

Honestly you could not understand what had happen. You two played ddakji and you lost. In order to make up for it you got slapped. Lots of times you were about to leave but the Man would say something about money and motion to the photo you had. You were furious but kept playing till you won.

You got a card and a few wones, he said how he felt pity over you and to call the number on the card if you wanted to win more money.

The exchange was strange, bizarre, the only thing telling you it was real was the money you had in your pocket and the card.

"Put some ice on it" Na-eun told you going to get it herself. "Did you get the picture?" She screamed even if she was not that far away

"I did"

"Oh let me see!! I want to see my nephew!"

"Na-eun, i dont know the sex of the baby yet" You responded taking the ice and passing her the picture.

"Its a feeling, I can tell its going to be a boy"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Life was good for a few more weeks, as good as it could be in your current situation.

But saddly it did not last.

"What..."

"Im sorry (Y/N), my sister called me. She needs me at her home. I cant stay any longer in Seoul" She said between cries knowing you would have no one if she went away.

"Hey, dont cry. Its your sister, I understand" You said trying to reassure her that you would be alright but still...it was a hard pain to take.

"I will pay my part of the rent till next month but after that...she trailed off"

"Dont worry, I will find a way" You smiled at her trying not to worry.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

That same night you called the number on the card, knowing your life would just get harder and harder now that you were alone once more.

After saying your name and birth date you were told of a place to be on a specific day and time.

"Stay calm little one, we will be ok" You said caressing your growing belly. "Mom will take care of everything"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

The next thing you knew you woke up in what seemed to be a big room with multiple beds. It was cold, your old clothes were replaced by what resembled a sports suit. The number "344" adorned your chest.

The peopel around you seemed as confused and lost as you were. Fear started to creep inside you, maybe you screw up? Maybe this was human traffic? What would happen to you? And your baby?

You saw another female player who seemed just as lost as you and...wait it could not be.

Was she also pregnant?

Thinking you had nothing to lose you went near her. Not too sure what to say at first.

"Hello, you dont happen to know whats going on?" You asked knowing the answer but looking to make small chat.

She looked back at you then at your lower belly, the confliction in her eyes was clear as day.

"No I dont, how..how long are you due?" She asked nervously but also feeling better that there was someone else in the same situation as her.

You smiled, "A few more months, you?" She responded making your smile bigger. "Looks like we are in the same boat, player 222" You said seeing her number "Want to, stick together till we know whats happening?"

And like that, you made your first friend inside the games.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

After the long introduction the pink guards gave to all of you, they guided the group around a maze of colorfull stairs, you looked over player 222 making sure she was alright, you had to make small stops yourself. Behind you stood a player, 456 who seemed to notice your state and did not mention a thing, if nothing his face seemed to pale at it.

The guards finally left all of you in a big area, up front was a doll and a white line. Your mind went to think on the words from the guards, this was a kids game, it should be easy right?

"Hey 222, stick with me" You called a bit worried over her and you. If this game included running then it would be a challenge for you and her.

But you could do it, you had to do it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

The splash of blood on your face made you want to vomit, move and run away. But the screams from player 456 stopped you. Reminding you that if the doll dectected movement then you would be shot.

"It cant see on your blind stops" He screamed moving his hand behind his back to show all of you. "Make a line, short ones behind tall ones, we will move together"

You gulped but did as he said getting behind a player with the number 390, who also noticed your state and looked worried.

"Im fine" You assured him stopping when the doll also stopped singing.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Like any other year In-ho stood in his room seeing the first game, a glass of whisky being his only company.

He could not see the faces of all players, too focus in Gi-hun and his attempt to save everybody. However, years of being a detective and watching this game made him have a critical eye, he saw two, two pregnant woman in the game, struggling but not giving up. He felt a tug in his heart, he knew this was to make games more interesting, to have players of all ages and circumstances, but even him, someone who was once part of them could not shake the uncomfortable feeling.

"It cant be" He whispered seeing you move, something from you called him, like he knew you. But that could not be right? You were in that town, safe, living your life.

How wrong he was.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once the game was over the need to vomit returned stronger, you held it back not wanting to bring attention over you.

Both player 456 (who he presented as Seong Gi-hun, and player 390 (who said his name was Jung-Bae) went to you. Asking if you were alright or needed anything, even if Gi-hun knew he could not get you a single thing.

"Im ok, I will survive, Thanks for your directions during the game Seong" You thanked the Man who nodded

"You can call me Gi-hun"

"344!!, 344!!" The screams of 222 filled your ears, you turned to see her and hugged her.

"Oh I was so worried over you, over both of you" You added quietly

"I lost you in the crowd...You are fine?"

You made a face, honestly the situation was far from fine but you needed to be strong.

"I will make it, will you tell me your name now?"

"Its Jun-hee" she responded in a low tone.

"(Y/N)" You pointed at yourself then at your belly "Little one"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Voting. You could vote to be out and walk with some money. In all honestly it did not cover your debt at all. But you prefer walking out alive, able to raise your baby than getting both dead.

"I will help all of you" The voice of Gi-hun cut off your thoughts, a small circle with him, his friend and Jun-hee was formed "Just help me to stop these games, peopel will keep dying if not"

"Im in" You said to him who nodded back.

The voting was thight, you had to held onto Jun-hee arm to not fall because of how nervous you were. Jung-Bae tried to calm both of you, saying most likely the Xs would win.

But it was a tie, a tie and only one player. Player 001 was going to break off. You did not see his face only his back, he took a moment to decide.

He pressed circle, the games will continue. And when he turned around you felt your soul leave your body.

It was him, In-ho the man who you had one night stand and left you pregnant with no way of contacting him.

The same man who's final vote would force you to continue playing.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

The dinner was....bad. That was the only word for it. You forced yourself to eat thinking in your baby, Jung-Bae was kind enough to give you his milk, you decided to divide it with Jun-hee who was also gratefull.

When circle players came, asking Gi-hun about next game you wanted to pull their eyes out. They were using him, like a secret card to win. But Gi-hun seemed unbothered, he said what the next game was and even told them that he would share it with everybody.

Some walked away angry, and giving Jun-hee and you some nasty looks, guess no one wanted two pregnant woman around.

"Ignore them" Dae-ho another player who had voted X and kind of formed a small friendship with Jung-Bae said to Jun-hee and You.

"Can we talk?" The voice of player 001 came as a suprise to all of you, but the suprise was bigger when they noticed he was talking directly to you.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Both of you walked away from the group needing privacy from them.

"What are you doing here?" In-ho asked taking your arms. The last person he would bet being here was you. You looked fine when he last saw you, not like a person who would be in debt. Besides you were from a small town, the organization moved between big cities.

Just...what had happen?

"Hello (Y/N) How are you doing? Or did you also forget my name too?" You responded too angry, confused and stressed.

He pressed his lips in a thin line to calm himself down. No, he could never forget your name. You filled his dreams every night, he did promise to himself he would go back to you once this games were over.

He never expected or wished that you would came to him, to this place.

"You cant be here" It was more like to negate himslef the fact that you were indeed here. "Its too dangerous for you and your baby" The last was said so softly it almost made you feel bad.

Almost.

"Well, thank you for making all of us play another round" You responded going to get away from him but he held you in place.

"I was not the only one who voted to stay"

"No, you were not" you did give him the reason "But your vote was the one that broke the tie. Sorry if I feel inclined to be angry at you.

In-ho gulped, no you were right to be angry, specially since you were not only fighting for your life but the baby in your belly.

"The baby..." He trailed off, the question clear but he found himself scared to say it out loud.

You took a long deep breath, you had imagined finding him and telling him about the baby, you never pictured it would be like this. But luck was never on your side.

"Yes, its yours. I wanted to tell you, but you ran away and left me no way of contacting you" A small pause to get your words together "Listen, I wont ask anything from you, we had a good time and thats it"

No. No he could not ignore it. First, you plagued his nights and days, making him feel like he was young again and having his first crush. Then you appear here, pregnant with his baby no less.

How could he ignore it? When a family with you was one of the many dreams he had. Even if it was like he was going too quick, thinking too fast when you two only shared a night.

"No, listen. Im sorry for leaving like that, I dont expect you to forgive me or understand me" He could not tell you why he had left, why he never contacted you. "But I promise I will take care of both of you. No harm will be done to you or to our baby"

Hearing him say "our baby" made you want to cry but you did not know he was able to protect you, to you he was just another player.

"Dont make promises you cant keep. And dont worry I have managed fine this last months" You said leaving him behind and returning to the group that were not so casually looking at the exchange.

Once you made it back you went directly to your bed, needing to rest just for a bit.

"Who was he?" Jun-hee asked softly

"No one, he is no one"

Jun-hee had a feeling about who he was but decided to be silent out of respect.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

In-ho saw you go, his hand moving to fists by his side. He wanted nothing but to have you moved out from the games. Maybe you could stay in his room till all ended. You would be well taken care of, would make sure the most trusted Doctor of the island checked on you and his baby.

A baby, a life. Something he had made on accident but did not mean he did not want it. No, he did. He could see you, him and the baby, the three of you living together, he would teach his kid so much and love you till death.

Was he becoming obsess? Maybe.

Did he care? No.

He would do whateve he could to keep you and his kid safe.

[luveline]

Something for hotch? Maybe where reader gets hurt/a concussion on a case and goes to the hospital but refuses to tell him she went until someone else mentions it?? <3 you dont have to do it if you have something similar but i love your writing!

ty for requesting!! <3 —Hotch will look after you, even when you don’t tell him you need him. fem, 1.7k

cw reader has a concussion

Hotch rubs his face when he knows nobody’s watching. Hand over his eyes, thumb and forefinger working against a brewing migraine. It eases a little of the tension there, but he can’t do it like you can. There’s something in your hands that makes him want to call them lovely hands, such a quaint word. You rub the space between his brows with your thumb until his aching is gone or replaced. Fondness with its own heartbeat wakes whenever you’re near. 

You’re not near. His head hurts. He wants a cup of coffee and a shower and to call Jack. The cases are never over when they’re over, is the thing, and he can’t keep track of everything. He has to answer questions and patch holes now, before the work follows him home to take up space on his desk. 

He talks to police officers, chiefs, victims families and firemen and Penelope, too, anybody who needs to ask him a question. He tells Emily to go back to the hotel because she’s exhausted, and warns Spencer that staying too long will give him another headache. He’s surprised half an hour later when Morgan grabs him by the arm. Hotch assumed he went with Spencer. 

“Hotch, what are you still doing here?” 

Hotch gives him a strange look. It’s not as though Morgan hasn’t seen Hotch clean up a mess before. “Sorry?” 

“I thought you’d be with Y/N.” 

He tries very hard to look casual. The team are often better at pretending they haven’t noticed you and Hotch slowly moving together. “She went home.” 

“No she didn’t, they took her in an ambulance. She’s at the hospital, nobody told you that?” 

Hotch knows Morgan can finish up for him. He doesn’t even say where he’s going or what there is left to do, Morgan is more than capable of handling the unit, and he’s a phone call away. Hotch rushes for an agent with a car and tells them where he needs to go as he punches your speed dial into his phone. Number three, after Penelope and Jess. 

You don’t answer, it makes him feel sick. He calls again and JJ picks up. Blessed, amazing JJ. 

“Hi Hotch.” 

“Is she there? Can I speak to her?” 

“She went in for an MRI a half hour ago.”

“JJ, what happened? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“She said she told you.” A dry laugh from down the phone. “You’d think I’d learn not to trust her. I love her, but she’s a liar.” 

Hotch could say the same thing. “JJ, what happened? What’s wrong with her?” 

“I think she’s embarrassed. When everybody was coming back out, someone stepped on the back of her leg and she slipped down the stairs.” 

“Who stepped on her?” Hotch asks. 

JJ laughs. Hotch wonders if they’re too far into working together to scold her for unprofessionalism, but then he remembers the Unit would fall apart without her and holds his tongue. He’d fall apart without you, maybe, and he could stand to be a little more defensive. 

He’s out of the car and into the hospital in record time. He follows the signs to the Emergency Room, gives your name at the desk, and doesn’t have to flash his badge to get told what room they’ve put you in. He would’ve, and he would’ve threatened legal action. He’s no saint. He’ll abuse the system (in innocuous ways only, of course) if it means he gets to see you. 

You’re in a bed but sitting on the side of it rather than laying down. JJ sits in the chair beside you, two contrasting expressions on your faces. You’re smiling. JJ bites her lip. 

She turns to Hotch with relief. “Hey, look,” she says gently. 

“You took a long time to get here. Was it the moon?” 

Hotch understands quite quickly. “Sorry. Nobody told me you got hurt. What happened to the moon, honey?” 

You give him a vacant look. Turning back to JJ, your hands vying for her arm, you hold her to your stomach gently and squeeze your eyes closed. “The light.” 

Hotch turns to the wall, looking for the light switch. It’s hidden behind other concerning tech, so he’s careful about what he presses. You sigh and draw his attention, wiggling back on the bed to almost fall off the other side. 

“Maybe she thought she told me,” he suggests, not scolding JJ, but unhappy nonetheless. You clearly aren’t in a state to make decisions for yourself. 

JJ rubs your arm. “She got worse after we got here. That’s why they sent for her MRI so quickly. She’s on and off with it, incoherent and normal again.”   

Hotch knows she’s concerned for you, but he can read her restless leg; she hasn’t talked to Will or heard about Henry in hours. “Go back to the hotel, JJ. I have her.” 

JJ gives you a hug, to your confusion, and bypasses him fast. He can hear her phone ringing before the doors shut from her departure. 

He admires her loyalty, he just wishes she’d called him two hours ago. 

You rub your eyes, the loose sleeves of your hospital gown shifting against the loose knot behind your neck, and he genuinely despises the idea that you’d been here, hurt, without him. “Can I tie your gown again?” he asks. 

You nod into your rubbing. 

“I turned the lights off. It shouldn’t be so bright in here anymore.” He rounds the bed to your back, where a great deal of skin is showing. He smiles though he shouldn’t. You poor girl. “You’re a little… stark.” 

“I’m trying to think of some fruit and milk,” you tell him. 

“Do you need help?” 

“Not for the fruit.” 

“But for the milk,” he surmises, bringing the ties of your gown as close as he can without strangling you and tying them in a neat bow. 

“I don’t think that’s what I meant to say.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb to bare skin. “That’s okay, honey, you’re having a little trouble now, but it’ll go away soon. If there were something wrong, the doctor would be here.” 

“You could be a doctor.” 

“I couldn’t. I don’t know anything about medicine.” 

“A very nice doctor. Big hands.” You breathe out loudly, more animated than he’s ever heard you. “Whoo, I’m cold. I think they made me naked.” 

“How about I tuck you in, would you like that?” he asks, leaning over you in hopes of you turning your head. 

You stare up at him. “You want to?” 

“I’d love to. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“My boyfriend might not like it.” 

Hotch tries not to sulk at another horrible symptom. You aren’t only incoherent, but amnesiac. And you’ve forgotten who he is, in a way. At least you’ve remembered you have a boyfriend. He hopes it’s him. 

“No? Why wouldn’t he like it, honey? I’m just trying to take care of you.” 

You visibly fluster. “You’re calling me honey like he does, and he won’t like it ‘cos he takes care of me. He loves to go to places but he doesn’t know where he’s going.” 

That second half is gibberish, he’s sure. Hotch puts his hands carefully under your armpits and manoeuvres you back toward the top of the elevated hospital bed.

You put your hand to your tummy as you lean back, and hiss as your head touches the pillows. “Ow.” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“Don’t tell Aaron I got hurt.” 

“Why not?” 

“I fell down the stairs. He’s never fallen down the stairs.” 

“I have, actually. Twice. And it doesn’t matter how you get hurt, I want to know you’re alright, so I need you to tell me.” 

He pulls the sheets up to your legs and over your lap. Tucks them tightly behind your back, hands lingering on your hips. He watches you look at him, your cloudy gaze tracking over his eyes, his nose, and his lips. “Aaron?” you ask eventually, lifting your chin. 

“Yes?” 

You breathe out an unmissable sigh of relief. “You didn’t come with me.” 

“I didn’t know you were hurt.” He squeezes your hip softly. “You didn’t tell me. But it’s not your fault, is it? You got hurt.” His voice falls into silk. “Is that warm enough?” 

“I’m glad you’re here. I need you to get my shoes.” 

“No shoes. Can I have a hug?” 

“Why?” 

“Just to hug you,” he says softly. “It might make you feel better.” 

You raise your hands clumsily like your fingers are full of sand, forcing him to see his arms under them and behind your back. Your cheeks align, his rough with stubble, yours warm with the heat of a flush, perhaps from the injury. Your hands flop down onto his back as he rubs two separate, loving paths on the gown and your skin. 

Thank god she’s okay, he thinks. 

“Am I stuck like this?” you ask. 

“Are you worried?” He taps your back. “I doubt it. We might have to stay here for a while, but it’s okay. Feeling better is the priority.” 

“I’d like to go back.” 

“Home?” 

“For breakfast.” 

“Are you hungry? I can find you something to eat.” 

“What?” you ask. 

You sound so genuinely confused that Hotch laughs into your shoulder, before giving the fabric a soft kiss. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna bring that chair over and sit with you, okay? We’ll wait for the doctor together.” 

He sits with you for hours, talks to doctors and nurses alike as they come to check your vitals and explain your scans. Your confusion doesn’t lessen until the night time, and even then you act oddly, bringing his hand to your mouth to kiss strange parts of his fingers. The skin shy of his nail. The underside of a knuckle, the curve under the meat of his thumb. 

[fortunapre]

𝐖𝐡at Happens 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐬… | 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

SUMMARY★ the internet gets suspicious after Oscar Piastri’s childhood best friend shows up to the USA GP after swearing off races a year ago…

(multiple face claims)

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y/nusername home sweet home *read in southern mama accent*

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oscarpiastri: hey! no way i’m going to be there too what a coincidence!

➜ y/nusername: its not a coincidence im stalking you

➜ oscarpiastri: 😀 what.

y/nbff: tell me you’re joking

➜ y/nusername: lemme tell you something... LEMME TELL YOU SUMTHING!

user1234: why does @y/nbff sound mad? Did she not tell her bsf or something?

➜ user999: don’t quote me on this but i’m pretty sure it has to do with the drama about y/n and her ex.

➜ user 1234: wait what?!? Im new what is that???

➜ f1updatesfans: well like i think 2 years ago y/n was seen around with this guy while she was in Austin (her home town) for the USA race.

➜ f1updatesfans: Then suddenly he like disappeared and y/n didn’t go to another race since. but now apparently she’s going to this one??? it’s all very speculative but yeah.

➜ user1234: ok but what does y/n have to do with formula one? Wait was she dating a driver?

➜ f1updatesfans: No! I dont think so... And shes Oscar’s friend I think. Best friend.

imessages- y/n's POV

Once y/n got off of the plane and through the gate, she stood waiting for Oscar. Considering he was already in town for the race, he had no problem coming to get her. They were best friends after all.

y/n had a hand on her suitcase and leaned against a pillar. She looked worn out and utterly tired. Her eye bags could practically be called carry-on luggage. She rested her head on the wall and scrolled through her contacts before choosing Oscar's name.

Her phone only rang once before Oscar's voice answered from the other side.

"Hey, y/n." He said in his signature sweet tone that always made y/n smile. The corner of her mouth lifted at his voice while she closed her eyes. Maybe tired was an understatement.

She was exhausted. Usually she just sleeps on planes, but for the whole 6-hour trip she never dozed off. The closest she got was simply closing her eyes.

She couldn't sleep. Not when she was so worried about what would happen once she landed.

"Yeah, hey Oscar." she murmured, and let out a long yawn. "My gate is A6." She held her phone between her shoulder and cheek while she tried to fish out her wallet from her purse.

"You good? You sound tired. Or sad. I can't really tell over the phone." Oscar spoke through the speaker pressed up against her ear.

"Yes, I'm fine..." Once she found her wallet, she pulled out cash to buy something to drink at the mini market across from her gate.

"Oh, I see you! Stop walking I'm coming to your right now." Oscar said quickly. Y/n looked around her, trying to find him. Eventually, she spotted his familiar smile.

They both hung up the phone as Oscar got closer. He was smiling at her, almost smirking really. When he stood next to her, he took a moment to look at her state, no doubt remembering it to make fun of later.

Y/n smiled back and then continued walking to the minimarket, with Oscar alongside her.

Once she got her water, they both started walking towards the exit.

"Here, I can take this." Oscar stopped y/n and put his hand on top of her hand which was holding her suitcase. His touch felt familiar and warm. His hands always felt rougher than they looked, but y/n felt comfort in knowing it was Oscar. At first, she didn't speak.

She was too busy staring at their hands because something different was happening.

She felt different. Suddenly, she wanted his hand to never leave. She wanted his hand to grab hers and lace their fingers. She wanted his hand to touch her more.

She shook her head and looked away from their hands. She must be really tired, and sleep deprived.

Instead of agreeing verbally, y/n just let go, suddenly conscious of Oscar's burning touch, and nodded, letting him take her suitcase.

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ynusername airport fit check

photo credits: lando norris’s teammate, i think?

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oscarpiastri shut up

landonorris *my future boyfriend

➜ ynusername LANDO WHAT! is this a hard launch for you two???? wdym your bf

➜ landonorris WAIT HAHA NO I MEANT MY AS IT YOURS

➜ landonorris I WAS CORRECTING YOU AS YOU

➜ landonorris WAIT DONT

➜ landonorris i’m deleting this.

comment and thread deleted

comments on this post are limited

imessages- oscar's POV

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imessage- oscar's POV

"Who are you texting?" Y/n asked casually, wanting to start conversation. She sat comfortable in a sofa across from him. Originally, they were both laying down on the sofa's facing each other, a table in the middle.

But once Oscar got the first message, he sat up quickly.

At one point y/n caught him looking at her, with the most confused face she's seen on him, but he just went back to typing.

"What?" His head shot up from his phone, and his eyes got wide.

"I asked who you were texting." She replied. Y/n sat up slowly, matching him and then leaned in, with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together.

"Oh. um. no one. Just Lando"

"Oh ok." This conversation was just making her more bored, and she wanted to talk to Oscar. There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. "What about?"

"Hmm?" Oscar seemed extremely distracted.

"What about?"

Instead of answering, he ran a hand through his hair and looked down. Y/n was going to ask what was wrong but he suddenly stood up and walked around the sofa.

He was still silent, and he changed positions to now stand behind the sofa and leaned on back, arm folded, facing away from her.

"Osc-" Y/n was going to ask why he was so distracted, but he cut her off.

He turned around, now looking her in the eye. "y/n can I ask you something?"

Now y/n was worried, because what could be on his mind that he needed to ask her about.

"Of course, Osc"

Oscar looked at her as she waited for his question. Like really looked at her. She was wearing Mclaren merch with his number on the back of course. She looked gorgeous. The realization made Oscar run a hand through his hair again, no doubt messing it up this time.

"It's kind of personal, y/n. I understand why you haven't said anything about it before. It's your personal life and I want you to know that i understand."

"Oscar what-"

"Is your ex in Austin?"

Y/n was surprised to say the least. She knew that questions about her past relationship would come up, but Oscar asking was surprising. She told him last year about how her ex broke up with her.

She was devastated. He had broken up with her over the phone, on the way back from last year's Austin Grand Prix. His reasons were stupid, and his apologies sounded incredibly forced.

She immediately called Oscar and told him everything. Well, everything except from his name. Oscar can be protective when it comes to y/n, so she kept her ex's name secret. It sounds stupid now that she thinks about it because even if Oscar did get mad, he would never do anything Y/n didn't like.

"Yeah. He's here, in Austin, but I haven't talked to him at all. You know what he did, and I want nothing to do with him." Y/n didn't know why she was trying to explain herself so much. She felt like she needed to make it known that there was nothing between her and her ex anymore. What this had to do with Oscar? she didn't know.

He nodded and walked towards her. They both sat next to each other on the small sofa while Oscar overthought everything.

"You want nothing to do with him? like at all? because Lando was making me think that you were possibly here to get back together with him..." He needed to know for sure.

"What? Oscar not of course. Why would Lando think that?"

"I don't know." he was going to run a hand through his hair for the third time, but y/n grabbed his wrist instead. She held his hand softly and intertwined their fingers.

Oscar felt relieved. Y/n was probably wondering why Oscar had so many sudden questions about her love life, but neither of them brought up the suddenness of the conversation. They instead sat close together; hands intertwined, hoping that the other couldn't tell how fast their heart is beating at the they're simple touch.

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oscarpiastri new merch that even I'd wear (it's a white shirt, get it?)

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ynusername cool now I have another shirt i can steal

➜ oscarpiastri get your own! https://mclaren.com

➜ oscarpiastri hope this helps!

➜ ynusername you're going to give it to me anyways I know it

➜ oscarpiastri probably...

landonorris @.ynusername where have you beeeeeen I haven't seen you all weekend

➜ ynusername clearing my calendar for you right now!

➜ landonorris tell oscar to stop keeping you to himself!!!

➜ oscarpiastri no go away

➜ landonorris *cough* jealous *cough*

➜ oscarpiastri 😐 that’s enough

Twitter

2 days later, and neither Y/n nor Oscar had made any progress on acknowledging their feelings. Even the internet and gossip columns knew more about it then each other.

a/n:

just a small smau i wanted to try. i’ve never done one of these types of stories, so sorry if its bad or confusing!

not sure if i’ll do a part 2…do we like?

[frillydolle]

need pitfighter vi getting jealous of people eyeing up nice reader at the bar and pulling you into her lap and marking up your neck in front of everyone😇

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ mdni , vi is touchy , even a little possessive , she's mean, ur the sweetest , suggestive near end!

after a huuge win, vi decided that u two should celebrate with drinks at the last drop. it's not like the two of u would have to wait for such a long time since, by now, everyone knew who vi was. she's gained a.. interesting reputation in the undercity.

and so she's holding ur hand guiding u through the crowd of people, taking u to a slight secluded booth just for the u both but unbeknownst to u, many people were looking at the two of u.

well, more so looking at u.

u were a pretty girl, a happy, bubbly, sweet girl. like u didn't belong in zaun, more like piltover. people couldn't help but look of u, even some of the men within the bar were oogling at u, as ur dress flowed gracefully with each step u took as u followed vi to the booth.

u were completely different to vi, but everyone says that opposites attract, don't they?

and ur at the bar, waiting on the drinks. no one in the place even dared to talk to u, and u know why, it's not like u felt someone's intense gaze om the back of ur head. like a hawk watching its prey. and u didnt mind her gaze too much, in fact, it made u feel all funny inside, like u adored everything moment. vi kept her gaze fixed on u, making sure that no one dared to talk to the pretty girl. her pretty girl.

with that bubbly, sweet smile plastered on ur face as u walked ur way back to vi, placing the two drinks on the table before her hand wrapped around ur waist, pulling u to her lap in one swift motion. and your heart skipped a beat-

“theres my pretty girl, did i make ya proud?” “'course you did, silly! i just worry 'bout you so much, vi..” and a small giggle left ur lips.

soon, she pulled u closer and started kissing ur neck. and u, being the most loveliest girl she's ever meet, moved ur head slightly just so she could gain more access. a stray of giggles following ur actions. and that made her smirk, increasing the kisses that made their path to ur collarbone back up to ur neck.

“vii! what are you- dont put ur hand there! they'll see us!” “..i dont care, i wanna make sure they all know you're mine.”

her hand retraces just from the underside of ur breast, back down to ur sides. her lips trace back up to ur neck before she bite down, just slightly, enough to leave u a bite mark. a lovebite, to be more specific. she wasn't a girl to share specific why would she not let everyone know that ur her girlfriend?

“you're just so pretty, make me want to mark you up in front of everyone here... not like they'd notice.. or care.”

god, her words sent down to ur lower abdomin, the way she talks to u could be so... filthy, knowing her true intentions and yet, u have never complained once!

she gave u another one. and another one, and then another one after that.

“let me take you when we get home, yeah?”

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Million Dollar Man"

Ok yall..... I know I said it was gonna be another chapter of "I bet on losing dogs" but @lilithquillete sent in an ask about Reader interacting with Harvey Dent and I couldn't help myself. This is the same AU as Older, and it's the prologue. Sorry if they dont make sense together butttt I couldn't stop myself, Hope yall like it!!!!

The Pink Pony Club was Gotham’s underbelly, dark, seedy, and full of people who either wanted to forget their past or embrace it. Jazz played faintly in the background, a vocalist crooning somewhere in the distance, as smoky air curled up toward the dimly lit ceiling. The dim lighting and murmur of conversation created a sense of anonymity. For you, this was heaven.

A place where you got on stage and no one knew you, your first taste of freedom outside your family. Here, you weren't Bruce Wayne's least favorite child nor were you the failed Batgirl or useless sister, here you were just you.

Your voice enchanted people and on stage in your heels, you were unstoppable.

Only a couple nights ago, you packed your things and walked out of Wayne Manor, as if the years of being part of that family never existed. It wasn’t just that Bruce and the others had been ignoring her for Tiffany all these years; it was the cruel realization that you was never important to them. Not like they were to each other.

You tried. You had given them everything. But Tiffany’s presence had overshadowed you since she came into the manor on your 14th birthday. It was as if you'd been erased, the little attention you got diverted and multiplied to someone who was more useful, more important.

You couldn’t even get a text from Duke anymore, let alone a casual chat with Dick or Tim. Forget about Damian or Jason, or any of the girls really.

So, you left. And now, you found yourself at the Pink Pony Club, a dive bar with no judgments, just an escape.

The club was packed tonight, filled with people who seemed to have their own agendas and distractions. You took a seat at the bar, watching the crowd. It was your first day off and you had nowhere else to go.

Tonight, you weren't singing, didn't want to be noticed, but Gotham had a way of drawing attention to its wounded.

You weren't sure what you were doing anymore. This was't you. You were never a party girl, you would never be caught dead in a place like this. Bruce would kill you, if he could look away from Tiffany long enough to see you here.

Maybe you were trying to spite you family. Maybe trying to drown the anger that simmered within you. Anger at the Batfamily, who had all but erased you from their lives. Anger at yourself, for allowing it to happen.

But mostly, the anger at Bruce. You had spent years trying to live up to his expectations, only to realize that Tiffany had took his love in a day.

But tonight, you weren't thinking about them. Tonight, you were here to forget.

As you sipped your drink, you noticed a familiar figure at the back of the room. Harvey Dent, the once-proud district attorney, now the infamous Two-Face, sat alone in a booth, nursing a drink. His face was partially scarred from the acid, and his expression, even now, looked like he carried the weight of Gotham's filth on his shoulders.

Selina Kyle, Cat Woman, Bruce's ex- lover who got you the job had mentioned he frequented the club. And if you were being honest, you couldn't help but be curious about him.

"Rough night, sweetheart?" a voice purred from beside you. Speak of the devil.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. You knew that voice too well. Selina Kyle. The only person who never treated you like a pawn or an afterthought. The only one who didn't care about the petty squabbles of Gotham's rich, the same Gotham she had spent most of her life trapped in. Your only friend in this god-forsaken city.

You half-turned in your chair, giving Selina a wry smile. “You have no idea.”

Selina perched herself next to you, crossing her arms, sizing up the tension on your face. "Let me guess. The Batfamily still ignoring you? Haven't even noticed you moved out? Too busy obsessing over the golden child?"

Your mouth twisted bitterly, but you said nothing, Selina always knew exactly how to get a rise out of you. Your eyes flickered toward the back of the bar again where Harvey Dent, still sat in the shadows, his burnt face half-hidden under his usual dark, grim expression.

Selina followed your gaze, the slight curve of her lips pulling into a mischievous smile. “You’re looking at him again, huh? You know, I never took you for the bad-boy type. Never thought you'd betray Superboy like that.”

"I'm not thinking of Clark tonight." You said, suddenly tense at the mention of your unrequited love.

A dark, playful smirk crossed your lips. You weren't looking for anything serious tonight. Just a distraction. And Harvey would be perfect for that.

Bruce would be pissed.

You slid off the stool and made your way toward the half-handsome man, the tension between them thickening as you approached. He looked up, his eyes scanning you for a moment before he smirked.

“Is there something I can help you with, sweetheart?” Harvey asked, his voice low and rough, the raspiness of his tone sending a jolt of heat through your chest.

You leaned against the table, crossing your arms. “Saw you sitting here all by yourself, thought maybe you could use some company.”

Harvey's lips curled into a dismissive grin, but his eyes were cold, calculating. “You think I need company?” His tone was sharp, sarcastic. “You're a little young for me, don't you think?”

You grinned, unbothered by his coldness. “A little age never hurt anyone, mind if I sit?” You asked, your voice dripping with feigned innocence as you slipped into the seat opposite Harvey. You could feel his sharp eyes on you, scanning your every movement, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, his jaw tight.

“Sure, if you’re into wasting your time,” he said flatly, not even bothering to look up again.

Reader’s lips curled into a playful smile. “I don't think anything to do with someone like you is a waste.”

Harvey glanced up slowly, his sharp gaze scrutinizing you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. His eyes lingered on you for a beat too long, his lips tight with something unreadable. “You’re bold,” he remarked, his voice heavy with condescension.

You tilted your head, leaning against the back of the booth, watching him through half-lidded eyes, peering at him innocently through your lashes, “What, is that a problem?”

He didn’t answer immediately, taking a long sip of his drink, his eyes now trained on her lips before sliding up to meet her gaze again. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, little girl.”

You didn’t flinch, though a hot flash of insecurity pierced through your facade. You’d had enough of people underestimating you. “Maybe, but i've always had a thing for lost causes.”

Harvey smirked, his expression a mix of arrogance and indifference. “I’m not exactly your type, kid. You want a pretty boy, go back to playing in your Batcave.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and pushing out your chest. “Did you just call me a kid?”

Harvey’s lips thinned, and you could see his eyes momentarily flicker to your chest. All men were the same.. “That’s what you are, sweetheart. You’re out of your league, go home to daddy and stop trying to play with the big boys. You don't belong here.”

You let out a low chuckle, leaning in just a little closer. This was a challenge now, he thought he was too good for you, too strong to give in, you'd show him how convincing you could be. “You think so? I’m not the one sitting in a dark corner of a bar brooding. Seems like I’m doing just fine.”

Harvey’s eyes darkened, and the tension in the air thickened. He took another sip, this time with a little more force, the sound of the glass clinking against the table ringing out. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don't really care.”

He smiled, sharp and predatory, "This won't play out in your favor. You think you're in charge here, you're not."

The words hung between you, charged with something dangerous.

For the next hour, you exchanged glances, words, and cold retorts, every time Harvey tried to shut you down, you would respond with something even more bold and charming, pulling him in. The man was harder to read than a stone wall, but you knew one thing for sure: the tension was building, the air crackling with the kind of heat that made your heart quicken.

Finally, Harvey broke, leaning forward and offering you a sardonic smile. “Alright. What’s your angle, sweetheart?”

You leaned in as well, matching his intensity, never backing down no matter how hard he tried to intimidate you. “Just here for a good time. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine. But I think we could both use some fun. A way to let loose.”

Harvey’s jaw clenched, but the flicker of interest in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re wasting your time. I’m not interested. ”

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?” You shot back, your voice low, sharp, and breathy.

Harvey’s lips tightened again, the words bitter in his mouth. “Because you’re trouble, you're a mess. And trouble’s what I wanted tonight.”

The words stung, but you didn’t let it show. “Then we're on the same page.”

For a moment, his jaw tightened, his face betraying a flicker of frustration. He reached for his glass, swirling it absentmindedly before taking a long sip. Then, after a beat, he placed the glass down with a deliberate slowness, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t have time for games, little girl. Why don’t you take your flirtations somewhere else?”

But there was something in his voice—something that cracked, a faint whisper of desire beneath the tough exterior. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“I don't want much,” You replied, your voice low, leaning in slightly, your noses almost touching. “Just tonight. A distraction.”

He smirked at that. “A distraction, huh? You think you can handle me?"

The words were slow, dangerous, suggestive. The tension between them had become thick, charged with the weight of things neither of them was willing to admit.

“Nothing permanent. Just... for tonight. What happens after doesn’t matter.” You'd never fall for someone like Harvey Dent.

Harvey's lips twisted, amusement in his eyes. “What would your daddy think?”

A week ago, that would've mattered. Back when your life revolved around him and his stupid family. But now? Now, it didn't matter, nothing mattered other than getting Harvey Dent in her bed tonight.

You chuckled darkly. “I'm a big girl now Harvey, I choose who my daddy is."

His gaze sharpened, his grin widened, and you could feel him moving under the table. “Really? Do you now? Does that mean I have to prove myself?" He said his Gotham accent coming out as he swiftly slid out the booth and began walking away, only glancing back at you once in a silent invitation.

The night bled into the morning as you found yourself in your bed alone, the only evidence of last night being your scattered clothes and the rumpled side of the bed that smelled of a deep, earthy cologne. Harvey, nowhere to be found, though you're sure he stayed the night.

You found a note on your nightstand with a number and a single red rose. You threw them both away.

The intensity of the night, of Harvey’s dangerous allure, his cold, hard demeanor that eventually gave way to something more primal; had left you breathless. You hadn’t exchanged any promises, but there was no mistaking the way he’d looked at you afterward. There was an intensity that had simmered between the two of you, a powerful connection of mutual darkness.

Later that day, as you met up with Selina to apologize for ditching her last night, you couldn't help but notice the sly smile on Selina's face.

"So, how was it? Life altering? Mind numbing?" Selina asked innocently, but her voice had a knowing tone.

“Fun,” you replied smirking, “Just what I needed. No strings attached.”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I heard Harvey’s been looking for you. Asking around. Seems like you’ve left an impression on him. He's not the type to give up.”

Your chest tightened, but you pushed the feeling down. “He was just a distraction. That’s all. i just needed to forget Clark for the night.”

Selina knew of your childhood crush, she was the first you told. You approached her as an awkward, chubby 13 year old, asking how to make Superman your boyfriend.

Selina smirked, clearly unconvinced. “You tell yourself that. But I think Harvey’s not done with you just yet.”

You shrugged, "I'm done with him."

Selina faltered, her mischief giving way to concern, "I'm serious. You need to be more careful, men like that, men like Harvey Dent, they don't take kindly to being ignored."

As the days passed, you felt the weight of your choices, of the things you’d told yourself you could leave behind. And yet, you couldn't help but feel the pull of Harvey’s gaze every time you closed your eyes and went home with a different guy.

You were still angry at the Batfamily, still haunted by the echoes of Tiffany’s presence, but now there was something else. Something dangerous, something that wasn’t just about anger anymore.

A few nights had passed since the night with Harvey. You found yourself with a strange feeling, lingering like smoke on your skin. Like someone was watching you, following you.

It started with small things, when you sang at the club, you could feel his eyes on you. When you flirted with customers and they didn't look you in the eye anymore. When even your charms and seduction couldn't pull anyone in, Harvey was trying to put you in a dry spell. Punish you for ignoring him.

A week after the night, you came home from the club to your apartment exhausted and what you saw shocked you. Dozens of red roses were in your living room and kitchen, with notes and pictures attached to each boquet. Everyday you ignored him, your apartment would be flooded with red roses, by the 4th day you were sure there were no more red roses in Gotham. You would read the notes, each day a different one, more vague and kind of threatening.

“I see you every night, whether you want me to or not. - H”

“You think I’m going to give up? Not when I’m this close. - H.”

“You can’t hide from me. I’ll always find you. - H.”

You rolls your eyes, but can’t stop the flicker of something—danger, excitement, anticipation—from flashing through you. The usual defiance is still there, but now it has a slight edge. It’s hard not to feel compelled by his power, and you pick up a card that has his number on it, and you call.

Two months. Thats how long you've been something to Harvey Dent.

Since that night you called him, you've seen Harvey Dent everyday for two months. You either saw him at the club, he never missed out on watching you sing, or at your apartment, or he'd wisk you away for a candle light dinner. The only exception of his constant attention was the two weeks you were sick, and even then he called you and sent you flowers.

Thats why when he started getting distant it hurt, you were in love with him.

Like a fool, you fell for Harvey "Two-Face" Dent.

You wrote songs for him, stayed up on the phone talking to him, baked him cookies and cakes, you didn't care about his scars or his mood swings, you put up with his sometimes hurtful comments because you could feel his love for you.

It was in the little things. Little displays of affection like knowing how you liked your coffee, your favorite fruit, how he would play your favorite movie whenever you were down and watch stupid rom-coms all night, without complaint. How he would laugh at all your stupid jokes and help you with the dishes.

Everything changed when Selina dropped a bombshell. You were just finishing your shift at the Pink Pony when Selina came up to you, leaning against the bar, a rare seriousness in her voice.

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to have to tell you this” Selina said, looking at you with eyes full of love and concern. “But I think you need to know . You’re not the only one Harvey’s been after.”

You froze, heart dropping to your feet. “What are you talking about?” You asked, chuckling at the unfunny joke, Harvey would never. He loves you.

Selina’s gaze shifted toward the back of the club, where Tiffany fucking Wayne, was standing at the bar with Harvey. The way she leaned into him, the flirtatious, familiar touch on his arm, made your heart drop. That was all the proof you needed.

“When you lost your voice last month, Tiffany came here every night, working him over. She’s been coming in, feeling him, and leaving with him. She’s been playing him like a violin. And he's been two-timing you.”

Your stomach twisted. Tiffany. Your “sister”, the girl who always took everything from you, the girl who you cried to him about, who you told him stole everything from you, stole him too. The image of Tiffany and Harvey together was enough to break something inside you.

Your voice cracked. “I... he... he was mine.”

Selina raised an eyebrow, sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry. You know Harvey’s not the only one she’s after. She’s always tried to steal everything from you. She’s always been good at that.”

It hit you harder than you wanted to admit. Tiffany had taken Harvey, too. she wasn’t stealing brothers or sisters from you; she was taking the one place where you had ever felt wanted.

He loved you, at some point, you were sure. But could love be so easily swayed?

Before she came and stole him like she stole everything else in your life, Harvey Dent loved you

In the two weeks you were sick, Tiffany Maverick stole the one man who loved you.

The next night at the club, the weight of Selina’s words followed you like a shadow. You stepped onto the stage, singing as best as you could, but the usual thrill was gone. Tiffany was there again, standing too close to Harvey. Every laugh they shared, every touch, was like a knife to your chest.

You couldn’t help but notice how Harvey had changed. The way he looked at you now felt different—distant, colder. There was no longer that spark of attraction, just the lingering sense that something had shifted. That someone else had taken hyourplace.

Tiffany had won. Again.

You finished your set and stepped off the stage, throat tight. You caught Harvey’s eye as he turned toward you, but there was no warmth or love in his gaze, like there was two weeks ago, only disappointment. He was looking at you like you were just another face in the crowd.

You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t stay. It wasn’t just the loss of Harvey—it was the realization that Tiffany had taken your spot in their world.

Her betrayal felt too familiar, like an old wound that never healed. It wasn't enough for her to have your family, she wanted everything.

That night you quit the club and broke your lease to your apartment. You wouldn't let Tiffany or Two Face run you out of Gotham, out of your city, but you couldn't stay where you and him shared all your memories.

You would forget about him. You would never mention Harvey Dent again, you would never even think of him again. Nor would you acknowledge that he was the first man that loved you. Harvey Dent did not exist anymore.

[gf2bellamy]

hiii!

i was wondering if you could write spencer x reader, where she’s having a really bad day but spencer is coming home from a case and is exhausted, mentally and physically so she feels guilty that she would bother him with her mood

So she just hides away and is on the verge of a panic attack and spencer finds her and is all “you save me, so pls let me save you” and just comforts her (and calls her angel because 🫠)

thankyouuu so much (you dont have to do it if you dont want! no pressure at all!) i love your writing, it’s so incredibly cute and endearing <3

exhaustion — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader crying a lot , reader feeling guilty / tired / exhausted, spencer calls reader angel a/n: hii thank you so much for your request !! i hope you like this <3

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. The TV was off, the big overhead light was off, and the only light came from the small lamp on the side table.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, your mind swirling with the events of the day. It had been one of those days—the kind where nothing went right, where every little thing seemed to pile up until you felt like you were drowning under the weight of it all. 

You missed Spencer. A lot. Especially right now.

He had a way of making everything feel better. You longed for his comforting hugs and the way he’d listen to you ramble about your day.

But he wasn’t here. He was at work, buried under mountains of paperwork and case files.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, your heart leaping in your chest as you hurried to the door.

Spencer stepped inside, looking disheveled and exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his bag by the door with a heavy thud, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into a tight hug. 

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and faintly of paper. For a moment, you just stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled but sincere. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to let go, but after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks.

“Today was horrible,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he let go of you to shrug off his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking more tired than you’d seen him in a long time. 

You bit your lip, hesitating. “What happened?” you asked softly, following him as he moved further into the apartment. 

He sighed again, sinking onto the couch and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Just… paperwork. So much paperwork. And then Garcia’s computer crashed, so we lost half the files we needed, and Hotch wanted everything reorganized by tomorrow morning…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just one thing after another.” 

You sat down next to him, your heart aching as you watched him. He looked so drained, so unlike his usual self, and you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about burdening him with your own problems.

Today had been hard for you, but it sounded like it had been even harder for him. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. 

So instead of talking about your day, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That sounds awful.” 

He gave you a small, tired smile, his fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s okay. It’s just… one of those days, you know?” 

You nodded, your throat tightening. You did know.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Instead, you shifted closer, pulling him into another hug. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“How was your day?” Spencer mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him.

You settled against his side, his head still resting on your shoulder as your fingers continued to gently card through his hair.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment, your hand stilling briefly before you forced yourself to keep moving. 

“It was… good,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. You tried to inject a note of cheerfulness into your tone, but it came out sounding hollow, even to your own ears. 

Spencer hummed against your shoulder, seemingly too tired to notice the slight falter in your voice. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you. His warmth was comforting, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest. 

After a moment, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before slowly sitting up. “I’m going to get changed,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before standing and heading toward the bedroom, leaving you alone on the couch. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the lump in your throat returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening.

But it was no use. The dam broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, hurrying toward the bathroom. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another.

Soon, you were crying , your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. You muttered curses under your breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to hold it together. 

“Get it together,” you whispered harshly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The tears kept running, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

You felt like a mess, your face hot and your chest tight. But just as you were about to try to pull yourself together, you heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Can I come in?” 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, to spare him from seeing you like this, but another part of you desperately needed him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before slowly getting to your feet. 

You opened the door just enough to peek out, your eyes meeting Spencer’s. He was standing there, his expression soft but worried. His hair was still a mess, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. 

“Hey, hey,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I—” you started, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, unable to continue.

How could you even begin to explain? Everything was wrong. The entire day had been wrong, and now you felt like you were falling apart. 

Spencer didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear. His touch was so tender that it only made you cry harder.

“Come on,” he said softly, his hand slipping down to take yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling you with him, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. 

You followed him numbly, your fingers intertwined with his as he guided you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. 

“Talk to me, angel,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?” 

The nickname made your heart ache, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You had such a bad day, and I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

Spencer’s expression softened, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You could never make my day worse,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re never a bother. Not to me. Not ever.” 

You shook your head again, your hands gripping his wrists as you tried to steady yourself. “But you were so tired, and I didn’t want to—” 

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You save me, I save you. That’s how this works, remember?” 

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching as more tears spilled over by just hearing those sweet words. Spencer leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You went willingly, burying your face in his shoulder as he held you close. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you felt some of the tension in your chest begin to ease. After a while he slowly let go, but his hands remaining on your arms.

“Tell me about your day,” he said after a while, his voice soft but insistent. “What happened?” 

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—so patient, so understanding—made it impossible to hold back. So you told him. You told him about everything that had gone wrong.

And he listened, his hands never leaving yours, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

When you were done, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. But I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nodded, your face buried in his shoulder as you clung to him. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Always, angel,” he said softly. “Always.” 

[st4rgiirll]

secret admirer

s2!rafe cameron x perv!stalker!pogue!reader

creds to: roseraris for dividers!

warnings: underwear stealing, piv, unprotected sex, watching rafe jerk off (mention), fingering, face slapping, pussy slapping (hand and dick), teasing, blowjob, cum eating.

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦 𝟭𝟴+ 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧, 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗟𝗬! 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗔 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

you sat in a tree, hidden by the leaves and branches, peering into rafe's bedroom. it was like clockwork; every night at 9:00 pm, rafe would undress for his shower after working out, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

your heart raced as you watched rafe peel off his shirt, revealing a taut set of abs that practically glistened in the low light. they were so close they could almost taste the salt on his skin.

this had become an addiction for you.

you couldn't help yourself; ever since you'd laid eyes on rafe cameron knew you had to have him. you watched him day after day, heat pooling in your panties as you did, sometimes when he was gone you’d steal a pair of his boxers. for safe keeping.

sometimes, on the off chance, you’d end up staying long enough to watch as he jerked off. you couldnt hear him through the window, but god you wished you could. his faces were just picturesque, it made your clit throb.

when he headed into the bathroom, thats when you striked. you opened his window, crawling in and immediately heading to his dirty laundry. your found them, his boxers. you took them from his pile and undone your backpack.

the bathroom door swung open, and you were mortified. half his boxers already in your bag, you looked up at him.

his eyes caught yours, and you were now bright red

“what the fuck?” rafe questioned, a bit creeped out but he couldnt help the way his shorts tightened.

“i- uh- i can explain-!” you stammer.

“what? that you were being a little perv? stealing my fucking underwear?” he huffs.

you looked down and your eyes didnt leave the floor when you stood up from your kneeling position, you couldnt bare to face him.

“so, why the fuck are you stealing my underwear, pogue? like a little perv.”

“w-well… i-i just- uhm..” you were so embarrassed.

“i-i-i,” he pouted mockingly. “god, you’re pathetic.”

you stayed silent, what were you supposed to say? ‘oh yeah i find you hot and want to get bent over and fucked brutally by you but i know i cant have you’ absolutely not.

“what? you cant find a guy to fuck you good so you gotta resort to stealin’ my boxers now?” he rolled his eyes at your lack of response.

“what about your little pogue boyfriends? huh? jj, john b? they not like you anymore? hm, probably not. too much of a whore for them, right?”

”i-im sorry, i-im so s-sorry rafe..” you apologize profusely, your eyes brimming with tears. “p-please, it was a mistake! i-i’ll return them all, i promise, just dont tell anyone!”

“i should,” he hums. “i really should. but i wont.”

“really?” you ask, hope blooming in your chest.

“yeah, i guess… for a price, of course.” he smirks, the smirk that tells you he’s up to no good.

there it was, the kicker. you knew you’d regret this but you couldnt have anyone know about this, especially the other pogues.

and that’s how you found yourself on his bed, his fingers plunging in and out of your cunt. you were a moaning mess, the force behind his fingers was brutal, bordering painful.

“f-fuck rafe!” you moan.

“yeah? you like that? ‘course you do, dirty whore.” he degrades, pulling his fingers from your dripping cunt.

he sucks on his fingers, humming at the sweet taste before grabbing ahold of your ankles and pulling you to the edge of the bed. he raises his hand and leaves a sharp slap on your pussy, making you squeak from pleasure, pain, and surprise.

“that’s what you get for being a dirty whore, for stealin’ my underwear.” he grunts, landing another smack to your pussy.

you writhe under the force, legs instinctively closing. his hands forcefully push your legs back open.

“don’t make me tie these pretty legs open.” he growls, his tone aggressive. “what do you do with my boxers, hm? wear ‘em? sniff ‘em? wouldnt put it past you.”

another smack.

“i asked you a fucking question, pogue.” he spat.

“i-i wear them…” you whine. “t-to bed, sometimes i’ll wear them… while i rub my pussy…”

“oh, baby…” he groans, his head lolling back as if he got pleasure from your words.

“get up.” he snaps, pulling you up.

“on your knees.” he sits on his bed, you kneel between his legs.

you open your mouth wide, eager for his cock. you’d dreamed about this so much, it made you so wet.

“you really want this huh?” he chuckles, tapping his cock on your tongue.

you wrap your lips around his length, practically salivating at the feel and weight. you hum, taking him deep in your throat before gagging and pulling off.

he growls, grabbing your hair and pistoning his hips forward. his tip bullys the back of your throat, making you gag each time it hit. you were gagging, but you loved it, being used by him. saliva seeped from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto your tits.

“oh f-fuuuck… just like that baby, oh fuck… im cumming…” he moans, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

it wasnt long before his hips stuttered and you felt his warm cum paint your oesophagus before he pulled out, you swallowed it and opened your mouth wide, showing him proof that you swallowed.

“good girl.” he hums, slapping your face a couple times before lifting you up onto the bed once more.

he strokes his cock a couple times to harden it again, before he’s guiding it down to your pussy. he rubs it up and down your slit, swirling the tip around your clit as you moaned pathetically.

he slaps his cock onto your clit a couple times, watching as your body jerked, before he slipped his cock in. he didnt let you adjust before he was pounding the soul out of you.

“o-oh yeah, fuck baby… pussy so tight…” he grunts, pounding your poor cunt into oblivion.

“rafe! oh god, t-thank you, thank you rafe.” you babble. “so good, so so so good.”

“yeah? so good? of course it is baby, you got rafe’s cock in you. pounding your little cunt, you hear her?” he hums, letting you hear the crude squelching of your arousal.

“yeah, she loves this cock, doesnt she?” all you could do was nod pathetically.

the bed repeatedly hit the wall, in time with his thrusts, he didnt seem to care. muttering something like ‘let everyone hear how good rafe treats you’ and god it made your pussy clench around him.

“fuuuck, do that again..” he moans, his hand pulling your legs up to rest on his shoulders as he drilled into you.

you were so fucking close, your pussy was spasming around his cock. “ray.. fuck ray, i-im gonna…”

“use your words, pretty.” he says softly, kissing from your ankle down to your mid calf and back again.

“‘m gonna cum…” you moan, the sound high-pitched.

“oh yeah? my pussy’s gonna cum all over my cock, is she? yeah, she is baby.” he smirks, reaching between you as he thrusts into your pussy and he rubs your clit.

that’s all it took for your release to engulf you, letting out a loud, scream-like moan as you came. his own hips stuttered and he released his seed deep in your cunt, you swear you felt it hit your cervix.

without wasting any time, he picks your panties from the floor and puts them back on you to let you sit in a pool of your shared cum.

“let this be a lesson, dont perv over me princess. i wont be as kind next time.” he smirks.

he slaps your panty-covered pussy, hearing the lewd squelch of your mixed release. he then walks into his bathroom to have his shower, like originally planned.

[simpjaes]

Thoughts on jealous Jay? Like is he gonna give silent treatment and then fuck you senseless or talk it out calmy and be a cutie and sulk like a baby till you give him attention and needs alot of affirmation (ITS A HORRIBLE ASK I DONT KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT OKAY IM SO SORRY)

Oh.....oh. what if...both?

WARNING: could be considered dub con to some people, be aware of that. not proof read.

Three days.

It's been three whole days since your boyfriend last spoke to you, and your mind has been running in all sorts of directions to determine why. Three days, that's how long it took you to get it. That's how long it took you to wonder if Jay is planning to break up with you over it.

Over Sunghoon, and the way he called you mid-sex with Jay all those nights ago. He was just asking if you took notes during the last class since he skipped, that's all. You didn't even answer the call, but it's the fact that Jay glanced over at your ringing phone and saw his motherfucking name.

It was eleven at night. Why did he have any reason to call you so late? "Jay..." You make the same attempt you have been making each day, every hour, as much as you can to try and get him to respond to you.

And it's the fact that he still shows up every day like usual, like he's not mad at you. Yet, he leaves every night without a work towards you, not a goodnight kiss, not a hug, not even a "sleep well." "Are you going to break up with me?" You meekly add, noting how he doesn't even glance in your direction and, instead, sits on your couch as if you're the one invading his space. For the first time in three days, she shoots his eyes to you, narrowing them. Finally, some emotion. Yet, still...no words. No reassurance. Nothing to make you feel better, or to indicate that Sunghoon is the reason, or that he's not breaking up with you. Instead, you find yourself backing away from him as he storms up at you. Back, back, back until you're hitting the kitchen counter and unable to escape from him. He says nothing, he doesn't even kiss you, and instead you feel his hands pulling your shorts down too fast to argue. Then, you're being flipped around, further proof that he can't even stand to look at you right now. And, so, you let him. Whatever he needs, whatever he wants if it means he will finally go back to normal. You're thankful he does too. Though it hurts knowing it took him plunging into you from behind, pressing your face into the cold counter to actually open up about why he's upset. He had to treat you like you mean nothing in order to remember you matter, much, much more to him than either of you can imagine. And now, as you sit somewhat numb against his chest, he whispers the warmth back to you. Apologetic, guilty for having let his jealousy get the best of him. "Baby, I-" He pauses, knowing there's nothing he can do to erase the fact that he just fucked you without any care or gentleness. "I had it my head that you...were going t-" "It's Sunghoon, isnt it?" You blurt, looking at your boyfriend and the way he pouts and relishes in his own guilt. There's a small nod from here, a shameful one. "You ignored me for three days over Sunghoon?" Another shameful nod, proving to you just how insecure your boyfriend is and how much he probably needs you to reassure him that there's no one like him in your life.