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incognit0slut · 2 months ago

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was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #angst #angst with no happy ending

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kiwriteswords · 25 days ago

Note

could we get hotch flirting with shy reader but hotch is rusty and out of the dating scene for so long so ultimately doesn't come across as fliriting to reader, so he has to eventually be bold about it?

Sweet Beginnings

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: This sweetness got away from me!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Female Reader

Word Count: 16.6k

Tags/Warnings: Feminine Reader, Shy Reader, Soft and Romantic Smut, Mainly Fade to Black Smut, Romantic Hotch, Hotch in his Courting Masculine Energy, Non-BAU Reader, Bottle of Wine is Mentioned, Romance!! Fluff!!! Enamored Flirty Hotch!!

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner wasn’t one to indulge in leisurely distractions, but a small coffee shop called Sweet Beginnings—and its gentle, shy owner—quickly became a quiet escape from his chaotic life.

Aaron Hotchner had never been one to take advice on leisure activities—especially not from Penelope Garcia. But the way she raved about a little coffee and pastry shop downtown was difficult to ignore, even for someone as stoic as he was.

“It’s cozy, Hotch. The kind of place where you could breathe for a change,” she’d said with a bright smile. “And their pastries? To die for.”

He wasn’t someone particularly picky when it came to coffee or the sweet tooth he allowed himself to indulge in every now and then, but with Penelope Garcia’s dazzling review of this place, he figured he’d give it a try.

So, one Friday morning, after dropping Jack off at school, Aaron found himself standing in front of the quaint café. The sign above the door read Sweet Beginnings in elegant, hand-painted script. The soft glow from inside beckoned him in, along with the faint smell of coffee and freshly baked goods.

The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside. The shop was warm, decorated with mismatched chairs and tables that gave it a homey feel. Aaron noted the shelves of books and plants along the walls the hum of soft music in the background. It was quiet but alive, much like the woman behind the counter.

You greeted him with a soft smile, barely meeting his eyes as you handed a cup of coffee to the customer ahead of him. Aaron noticed the delicate way you moved, the way your hands wrapped around the mug to steady it as you passed it over. When it was his turn, you offered him the same gentle smile, your voice barely above a murmur.

“Good morning. What can I get for you?”

Aaron had prepared to order the first thing on the menu, but something about you—your calm demeanor, the way your shyness didn’t feel like a wall but an invitation to be gentle—made him pause.

“What do you recommend?” he asked, his tone softer than usual.

You hesitated for a moment as though surprised he’d asked for your opinion. “Um, the vanilla latte is popular… and the lemon scones are fresh today.”

“Then I’ll have those,” Aaron replied, watching the way your face lit up just slightly, like you were proud of your recommendation but too modest to show it outright.

He didn’t expect to find himself at Sweet Beginnings again so soon, but the following Monday, Aaron walked in and ordered the same thing. Over time, his visits became routine—part of the rhythm of his mornings when he wasn’t rushing to a case.

Aaron learned small things about you through your brief conversations. You’d opened the shop a couple of years ago, pouring your heart into creating a space that felt warm and safe. You loved reading, often leaving books on the counter to mark your place. You had a quick wit, though you always seemed surprised when someone caught onto it. And you were so gentle, in a way that Aaron found himself appreciating more and more.

He’d never thought of himself as someone easily captivated, but there was something about you that lingered with him long after he left the shop. The soft way you said his name when you finally learned it, the way your shyness made you blush when he asked about your favorite book—it all stayed with him.

Aaron Hotchner had always been a man of precision. In the field, his words were measured, deliberate, carefully chosen to achieve the best outcome. Flirting, he realized, was a wholly different matter. It wasn’t long before he found himself trying, though, with you—if it could even be called flirting.

At first, it was subtle—so subtle he wondered if it even registered. The first time, he complimented your coffee.

“You’re making it hard to go anywhere else for coffee,” he said one morning, his tone uncharacteristically light. He stood at the counter, his jacket slung over his arm, his tie slightly loosened from the morning rush.

You blinked at him, clearly startled, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh… thank you. I’m glad you like it,” you murmured, your voice soft.

Aaron thought he saw something flicker in your expression—a glimmer of flattered surprise, maybe—but it was gone in an instant. You handed him his cup, offering him the same gentle smile you gave every customer, and he realized you either hadn’t caught on or didn’t think much of it.

But he wasn’t one to give up easily.

A few days later, Aaron leaned casually against the counter, watching as you expertly filled a tray of pastries to restock the display. His gaze softened as he noticed the delicate precision in your movements, the way your hands handled each scone with care. When you finally turned to him, you offered your usual quiet smile, your voice tinged with curiosity.

“Same order as always?” you asked.

Aaron nodded but added, “Do you have any secrets to these scones, or are you just naturally this talented?”

You tilted your head at him, confused at first. Then your lips curled into a shy, almost bashful smile. “It’s the recipe,” you said, your tone light but modest. “I just follow it.”

He couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him. “Somehow, I don’t believe that. There’s a level of care here you don’t find in most places.”

Again, your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, as if unsure how to respond. Aaron took his coffee with a quiet thanks and left, wondering if he’d ever get more than your polite deflections.

One morning, as you handed him his cup, Aaron noticed something different. Written on the sleeve was a simple, hand-drawn smiley face alongside the words, Have a great day! It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tug at something deep in his chest.

He looked up, catching your eyes. “A smiley face?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His lips quirked into a subtle smile.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard. “Oh, um… I’ve been doing little notes for regulars,” you said quickly, your words slightly rushed. “I thought it might brighten someone’s day.”

“It does,” Aaron said warmly. “Thank you.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip in a way that made his chest tighten. He thought he saw your shoulders relax slightly, but you quickly busied yourself with the next customer, leaving him to wonder if he was imagining things.

Over time, Aaron became bolder—or at least, as bold as he could manage within the confines of a café conversation. He tried humor one day, when you handed him a blueberry muffin instead of his usual lemon scone.

“A deviation from the usual?” he asked, lifting the bag and raising an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?”

Your lips parted slightly, and for a moment, you looked panicked. “Oh! I’m sorry, I—”

“I’m joking,” Aaron said quickly, his voice warm. “I trust your judgment.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “I just thought you might like to try something different,” you admitted, your fingers brushing nervously against the counter.

He smiled, noticing how your shyness made you fidget. “Then I’m sure I will,” he replied. “Thank you.”

The more he tried, the more he realized you weren’t picking up on his intentions. Or maybe you were, and you didn’t believe them. Either way, Aaron found himself at an impasse.

It was a rare moment of stillness in the bullpen, the team gathering themselves after wrapping up a grueling case. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, papers in front of him, though his focus had shifted to the cup of coffee in his hand. The familiar, comforting aroma wafted up as he took a sip.

“Alright, Aaron,” Rossi’s voice cut through the quiet, drawing Aaron’s gaze upward. The older man leaned casually against the doorframe to his office, arms crossed and a sly smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been walking in here every morning with that same cup. It’s not just coffee, is it?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, come on,” Rossi chuckled, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “You’re not the type to spend almost ten bucks on a latte every day just for the caffeine. You’re going to that little shop downtown, aren’t you? Sweet Beginnings, or whatever it’s called?”

Aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing his arms. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you’ve never been a hipster coffee shop kind of guy,” Rossi said matter-of-factly, gesturing toward the cup. “So unless they’re serving something laced with gold, I’m guessing it’s not about the coffee. Am I right?”

Hotch let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. “You have too much time on your hands.”

Rossi grinned, pulling up a chair. “You’re deflecting. So, who is she?”

“Who says it’s about anyone?” Aaron countered, though his slight shift in posture betrayed him.

“Because I know you,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “And I know that look. You’ve got someone on your mind, and I’d bet a week’s salary it’s not the barista’s latte art skills.”

Aaron let the silence linger for a moment before finally relenting. “She’s the owner,” he admitted, his voice low. “She’s... shy, gentle. There’s something about her I can’t quite put into words.”

Rossi nodded knowingly. “Ah, and let me guess—you’ve been trying to make a move, but she’s not picking up on it?”

Aaron hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve tried to show interest. Compliments, humor, the usual... but either she doesn’t notice, or she’s just not interested.”

“Well, have you considered that she might just be too shy to believe you’re serious?” Rossi asked, leaning back in his chair. “If she’s as gentle as you say, she probably doesn’t think a guy like you would be interested in her.”

Aaron frowned slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Hotch. You’re smart, successful, and intimidating as hell when you want to be. A lot of women would think twice before assuming you’re flirting, especially someone shy,” Rossi explained with a knowing look. “You might need to be a little more... direct.”

Aaron arched an eyebrow. “Direct?”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “Tell her how you feel. No games, no subtle hints. Women like her appreciate honesty. She’s probably too busy overthinking to pick up on your breadcrumbs.”

Aaron considered this, his gaze dropping to the cup in his hand. He’d been dancing around the idea for weeks now, unsure if it was the right move. But Rossi’s words carried weight—as they always did.

“And what if she’s not interested?” Aaron asked after a moment.

“Then you’ll know,” Rossi said simply. “But from the way you’re talking about her, I’d say it’s worth finding out.”

Hotch nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Dave.”

Rossi stood, patting him on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “Just don’t wait too long. Life’s short, my friend. And good coffee? Even shorter.”

Aaron Hotchner stood outside Sweet Beginnings, the cool morning air brushing against his face as he gathered his thoughts. The warm light spilling out of the café windows contrasted with the nervous energy he felt—a rare sensation for someone so used to control. Rossi’s words echoed in his mind: “Tell her how you feel. No games, no subtle hints.”

He stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. It was quieter than usual, with only one other patron seated by the window. You were behind the counter, carefully arranging a fresh tray of pastries on display. The sight of you—focused, gentle in your movements—was enough to ground him, if only slightly.

You looked up at the sound of the bell, offering your usual shy smile when you saw him. “Good morning,” you said softly. “The usual?”

Hotch approached the counter, his expression softer than usual. “Not just yet,” he said, his voice steady. “I was hoping to talk to you for a moment first.”

You blinked, surprised, and set down the tray you’d been holding. “Oh… sure,” you murmured, folding your hands nervously in front of you. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Aaron said quickly, shaking his head. “I just wanted to say something that I think I haven’t been clear about.”

You tilted your head slightly, your curiosity evident despite your shyness. Aaron took a breath, his hands resting lightly on the counter.

“I’ve been coming here for a while now,” he began, his voice calm but sincere. “And while I do enjoy the coffee—and the pastries—what really keeps me coming back is you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he saw the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your apron. “M-Me?” you stammered, clearly caught off guard.

“Yes, you,” Aaron said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re kind, thoughtful, and there’s a warmth about you that I’ve found myself looking forward to more than I expected. I realize I might not have made that clear before, and I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”

Your blush deepened, and for a moment, you looked like you weren’t sure what to say. “I… I thought you were just being nice,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought…”

Aaron’s smile grew slightly. “I wasn’t just being nice,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m interested, and if you’d like, I’d love to take you out to dinner. No coffee shop counters between us, just… us.”

You blinked up at him, your shyness warring with a hesitant excitement. “I… I’d like that,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly but full of sincerity. “I’d really like that.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Aaron felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He nodded, his smile softening. “Good. How about tomorrow night?”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, your lips curving into a shy but genuine smile.

Of course, Aaron had the perfect place in mind. He shared that with you, and you both found a time that worked. He would do whatever it took to be here to pick you up for the date.

As Aaron left the shop that morning, he felt a rare sense of anticipation blooming in his chest. Rossi was right—honesty had been the answer. And for the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to something beyond the next case.

Aaron Hotchner stood on the sidewalk in front of Sweet Beginnings, smoothing his tie as he glanced up at the windows above the shop. The lights in one of them were on—a warm, inviting glow spilling out onto the darkening street. It was where you lived, just above the place you’d built from scratch.

He took a steadying breath and checked his watch. It was still a few minutes before the time you’d agreed on, but he couldn’t resist being early. There was a quiet kind of excitement in him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

The door to the shop opened, and there you were. For a moment, Aaron froze.

You were stunning. The soft glow from the shop lights illuminated you as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your dress simple but elegant, perfectly complementing your natural beauty. Your hair fell just right, framing your face in a way that made his heart skip. He’d always thought there was something enchanting about you—your gentle demeanor, your shy smile—but seeing you like this, he was utterly captivated.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice almost tentative as you met his eyes.

Aaron blinked, recovering quickly, though his usual composure felt shaken. “Hi,” he replied, his tone warmer than usual. “You look… beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down, your fingers brushing against the strap of your small purse. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You look really nice too.”

Aaron smiled, his chest tightening slightly at your shy response. He stepped forward, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You nodded, slipping your hand lightly into the crook of his arm. As he led you toward his car, he couldn’t help but glance at you again. You had an air of grace about you, soft and unassuming, yet it commanded his full attention.

The restaurant he’d chosen was quiet and intimate, a small Italian place tucked away in a corner of the city. Candles flickered on the tables, casting a warm glow over the room. Aaron pulled out your chair for you before sitting across from you, marveling at how effortlessly you seemed to fit into the moment despite your shy nature.

His attention was entirely on you—the way you fidgeted lightly with the edge of your napkin, the faint blush on your cheeks every time his eyes lingered a moment too long.

“So,” he began, leaning slightly forward, his voice soft but steady, “what made you want to open a coffee shop?”

You looked down at your hands, hesitating for a moment before meeting his gaze. ��I always loved baking,” you said, your voice quiet but laced with sincerity. “It’s… comforting. My grandmother used to bake with me when I was little. She’d always say there was nothing a warm pastry and a cup of coffee couldn’t fix.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a small smile. “Wise advice.”

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips. “When she passed, I just… I wanted to create a place that felt like her kitchen. A place where people could feel safe and welcome.”

“That’s exactly what you’ve done,” Aaron said, his tone warm. “Your shop has that kind of atmosphere. It’s different from anywhere else.”

Your blush deepened, and you ducked your head slightly. “Thank you,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “I’m glad it comes across that way.”

Aaron couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He was quickly learning how much he enjoyed making you blush—how your shy responses revealed so much about the gentle person you were.

“What about you?” you asked suddenly, your voice a little hesitant. “What… what made you want to join the FBI?”

Aaron paused, his expression softening as he considered the question. “I’ve always wanted to help people,” he said after a moment. He briefly went on to share about following in his father’s footsteps but creating his own path along the way. The way you allowed a platform for him to share so easily, the words and his own story coming out of his mouth without second thought. Something normally so foreign to him.

You nodded, your eyes thoughtful. “It must be hard, though… seeing everything you see.”

“It is,” Aaron admitted, his gaze steady. “But it’s worth it. And moments like this… they remind me there’s still good in the world.”

Your cheeks flushed again, and you looked down, unable to hold his gaze. “I don’t know if I’m really… good,” you said softly, almost to yourself.

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his voice firm but gentle. “You are. You have a way of making people feel seen, even in small ways. That’s a rare gift.”

You looked up at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise. “I… I’ve never thought of it that way,” you admitted, your blush deepening.

“Maybe you should,” Aaron replied with a faint smile.

Later in the evening, as the waiter cleared your plates, Aaron took a sip of his wine, watching the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you always blush this much?” he teased lightly, his tone warm and playful.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked down, your fingers brushing nervously against the tablecloth. “I—I can’t help it,” you stammered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and soothing. “I think it’s charming,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Though I’ll admit, I might be trying to make it happen more often.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and bashfulness. “That’s not fair,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your obvious embarrassment.

Aaron’s smile widened. “Life’s not always fair,” he said, his voice teasing. “But I’d say this moment is one of the better ones.”

You laughed quietly; the sound light and genuine, and Aaron felt a warmth spread through his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed moments like this—a simple, honest connection.

By the time the evening wound down and Aaron walked you back to your apartment, he felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Standing at your door, he couldn’t resist one last attempt to see that beautiful blush of yours.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he told you, his voice low and sincere. “You’re incredible. I feel… lucky to have spent tonight with you.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you smiled shyly, looking down at your hands. “I feel lucky too,” you said softly.

Aaron chuckled lightly, his heart swelling at your words. “Goodnight,” he said gently, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your voice as soft as the warm light spilling from your doorway.

As he walked back to his car, Aaron felt something rare and undeniable. For the first time in years, he felt like he was stepping into something real, something special. And he couldn’t wait to see where it might lead.

The next morning at Sweet Beginnings began like any other for you. The familiar rhythm of grinding coffee beans, the hum of the espresso machine, and the gentle murmur of early-morning customers filled the space. But today, there was something unexpected—a delivery that arrived just before the rush.

The bouquet was stunning. Soft pink peonies, delicate white roses, and sprigs of lavender were arranged with care, their sweet fragrance filling the air as you stared at them in disbelief. Tucked among the blooms was a small card, the handwriting neat and precise.

Thank you for a wonderful evening. Looking forward to seeing you again soon. - Aaron

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you found yourself pressing the card to your chest as if the gesture could steady your racing heart. Flowers. For you. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sent you flowers, much less something so thoughtful and beautiful.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. You tried to focus on your work, but every time you glanced at the bouquet—now proudly displayed on the counter—you couldn’t help but blush.

When Aaron walked in later that morning, his usual confident stride was accompanied by a small flicker of uncertainty. He spotted the flowers immediately, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached the counter.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice warm.

You turned toward him, your eyes lighting up as you smiled shyly. “Good morning,” you replied softly. “Thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he leaned slightly against the counter. “I’m glad you like them,” he said. “I thought you deserved something as lovely as you are.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you looked down, fiddling nervously with the edge of your apron. “I don’t… I mean, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Aaron interrupted gently, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Last night reminded me of something I haven’t felt in a long time. Romance should be… intentional. Thoughtful. And you inspire me to want to do that.”

You glanced up at him, your wide eyes filled with something between surprise and bashful gratitude. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aaron replied, his gaze steady and sincere. “Just let me keep doing this—showing you how much I enjoy being with you.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, the sincerity in his expression rendering you speechless. Finally, you nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Okay,” you whispered.

Aaron’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. He could feel the warmth in his chest spreading as he reached for his usual order. But today, when you handed him his coffee, your hands lingered just a moment longer than usual.

“Thank you,” you said again, your voice gentle but filled with meaning.

As Aaron left the shop, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. You’d awakened something in him—a desire to court you properly, to show you just how much you meant to him. And he couldn’t wait to see where this journey would lead.

The BAU jet cruised quietly through the night sky, the hum of the engines a familiar backdrop to the subdued conversations and occasional shuffling of papers. Aaron Hotchner sat at the small table, ostensibly reviewing case files, but his mind was elsewhere. The faint glow of his phone screen on the table seemed to taunt him as he thought about you.

The first date had gone so well—better than he had expected, even. You had been soft-spoken but so genuine, your sweetness and warmth drawing him in like a balm to the chaos he so often faced. He wanted to see you again, to plan the next date, but the timing of this case had whisked him away before he could make it happen.

“Hotch, you good?” JJ’s voice broke through his thoughts, her tone light but laced with curiosity.

He glanced up, meeting her knowing smile with a faint raise of his brow. “I’m fine,” he replied evenly, though he could tell she wasn’t convinced.

“Uh-huh,” Rossi chimed in from across the aisle, his smirk already in place. “Fine enough to be lost in thought for the last hour? Let me guess, you’re not still running through case details.”

Aaron exhaled through his nose, not irritated but resigned. “Rossi, I don’t—”

“Let me guess,” Rossi interrupted with a teasing grin. “It’s got something to do with Sweet Beginnings and a certain someone who runs it.”

JJ’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, her curiosity piqued. “Wait, the coffee shop? The one with the owner Penelope’s been raving about?”

At the sound of her name, Penelope’s voice crackled through the laptop perched nearby, her face appearing on the video call. “Are we talking about her? Hotch, please tell me we’re talking about her.”

Aaron leaned back in his seat, clearly outnumbered, though a faint smile betrayed his amusement. “Yes, we went on a date,” he admitted, his voice calm but tinged with warmth.

The reaction was immediate. Penelope squealed so loudly that Spencer visibly flinched, while Rossi chuckled, clearly enjoying Aaron’s discomfort. JJ, however, leaned in slightly, her expression soft and encouraging.

“And?” JJ prompted gently.

“And it was… wonderful,” Aaron admitted after a pause. “But we didn’t make plans for a second date before I left for this case. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

“That’s an easy fix,” Rossi said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Shoot her a message. Let her know you’re thinking about her and that you want to see her again. Simple.”

“Penelope?” JJ interjected, turning to the laptop.

“Oh, he doesn’t need my help,” Penelope said, waving her hand dramatically. “Hotch has his own kind of charm—direct and a little broody, but it works. Just don’t overthink it, sir. She’ll swoon no matter what.”

Aaron shook his head with a faint chuckle, pulling his phone closer. He didn’t need much convincing. The thought of reaching out to you felt natural, not something to agonize over.

As the team’s chatter faded into the background, Aaron composed the message, keeping it simple but meaningful:

Hi. I’ve been thinking about you and how much I enjoyed our evening together. When I’m back, I’d love to take you out again—if you’re free, of course.

After rereading it once, he hit send, the faint hum of anticipation settling in his chest. He placed the phone face down on the table, not wanting to watch it, but his thoughts were already with you.

“Done?” Rossi asked, smirking as Aaron met his gaze.

“Done,” Aaron replied with a faint nod.

JJ smiled, nudging Rossi with her elbow. “Told you he didn’t need our help.”

Penelope’s delighted laugh echoed through the call. “Oh, he’s got this, JJ. We just like to cheer him on!”

Aaron rolled his eyes fondly, shaking his head. Despite the teasing, he appreciated their support. For the first time in years, the prospect of romance felt like more than just an indulgence—it felt like something real, something worth pursuing. And he couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

Aaron Hotchner spent the day chasing leads, directing the team, and piecing together profiles—but now, with the case temporarily at a lull, his thoughts had inevitably drifted back to you.

The gentle buzz of his phone pulled his attention, and he felt an inexplicable flicker of anticipation. Picking it up, he saw your name at the top of the screen, along with your response:

Hi, Aaron. I’ve been thinking about you too. I’d love to go on another date when you’re back. Just let me know when, and I’ll make sure I’m free.

Aaron exhaled slowly, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Relief? Gratitude? No—something softer. Something that warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

He read the message again, letting the simplicity of your words settle over him. You’d been thinking about him. It was such a small thing, but it held so much weight. He could picture you shyly typing the message, your soft smile as you hesitated over every word. The thought brought a rare, genuine smile to his face.

He began typing his reply:

That’s perfect. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.

He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. It wasn’t enough—not for what he wanted to convey. He deleted the last sentence and replaced it with:

That’s perfect. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

It was bold, direct—words he wouldn’t normally allow himself to say. But you weren’t like anyone else. You brought out a softness in him, a desire to be open, to let you see the man behind the stoic facade.

After hitting send, Aaron set the phone down and leaned back in his chair. The faint hum of the air conditioner in the hotel room filled the silence, but his mind was anything but quiet. He thought of your gentle smile, the way your blush deepened when he complimented you, the quiet humility in everything you did. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and intensity of his world, and yet, it felt like exactly what he needed.

A moment later, his phone buzzed again. He reached for it, his heart inexplicably light as he read your reply:

I’ve been thinking about you too. I’ve never met anyone like you, Aaron. Take your time with the case—I’ll be here when you get back.

Aaron let out a quiet breath, his lips curving into another faint smile. He allowed himself a moment to simply sit there, phone in hand, savoring the thought of you waiting for him. It was a rare feeling for him—a sense of connection, of something good waiting for him beyond the cases, the paperwork, the endless responsibilities.

He typed one final response:

Thank you. That means more to me than you know. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. Sleep well, and take care.

After hitting send, Aaron placed his phone on the nightstand and leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying until now, when the thought of you seemed to lighten the weight. For the first time in years, he felt something entirely his own to look forward to. Something real. Something good.

Aaron Hotchner stood outside your coffee shop, his hand brushing the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on the way over. They weren’t as grand as the first ones he’d sent you—just a handful of simple daisies and lavender tied with a ribbon—but they felt right. Thoughtful, unassuming, like you.

He exhaled a slow breath, running his fingers through his hair before stepping inside. The soft chime of the bell announced his arrival, and his gaze immediately found you behind the counter.

You looked up at the sound, your eyes lighting up when they met his. A warm, shy smile spread across your face, and Aaron felt that familiar tightening in his chest, the one that had been there since your first date.

“Aaron,” you greeted softly, wiping your hands on your apron before stepping closer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, his voice softening in a way it rarely did. He extended the flowers toward you, his lips curving into a faint smile. “For you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush crept up your cheeks as you took the bouquet. “They’re beautiful,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over the petals. “Thank you.”

Aaron watched as you carefully set the flowers in a vase behind the counter, your touch so gentle it almost made him smile again. He’d spent years in a world where gentleness felt like a luxury, and yet, with you, it seemed so effortless.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady but warm.

You nodded, untying your apron and grabbing your bag. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Aaron said, his tone light but firm, and he was rewarded with the smallest laugh from you as you followed him out the door.

The evening unfolded like something out of a dream. Aaron had chosen a quiet spot just outside the city—a garden restaurant with fairy lights strung across trellises and the soft sound of live acoustic music in the background. He led you to a secluded table near the fountain, the glow of the lights reflecting in your wide, curious eyes.

“This is… beautiful,” you said softly, your gaze sweeping over the setting before landing back on him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” Aaron replied simply, his gaze steady on yours.

Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about your day, about the customers at the coffee shop, and how you’d been experimenting with new pastry recipes. Aaron listened intently, his expression softening as he watched you.

“And what about you?” you asked at one point, tilting your head slightly. “How was the case?”

“It went well,” Aaron said, his tone measured. “But it’s nice to be back. To be here with you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your plate, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re really good at making me blush,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’ve noticed,” he said, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “I think I enjoy it.”

You laughed lightly, the sound like music to his ears, and for a moment, he reveled in how at ease you made him feel.

Aaron walked you to your apartment door, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a warm hue over the quiet street. The evening had been perfect—dinner, conversation, and the kind of connection he hadn’t felt in years. Now, standing outside your door, he found himself reluctant to let the night end.

You turned to face him; your bag clutched lightly in one hand as you offered him a shy smile. “I really had a wonderful time tonight,” you said softly, your voice carrying the same gentle warmth that had captivated him since the moment he met you.

“So did I,” Aaron replied, his voice low but steady. He took a small step closer, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as his gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me take you out again.”

Your blush deepened, and you glanced down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I… I really like spending time with you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that.”

Aaron’s chest tightened at your words, and for a moment, all he could do was take in the sight of you—the way the faint pink in your cheeks mirrored the soft glow of the lights, the way your fingers fidgeted nervously with the strap of your bag.

“I do,” he said softly, his voice holding an honesty that surprised even himself. “And I feel the same way.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something else, but no words came. Instead, your gaze flickered to his lips for the briefest of moments before darting away, your shyness making you retreat a half-step.

Aaron caught the hesitation and knew he had to be the one to bridge the gap. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer, his movements careful and measured, giving you every chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t.

Your breath hitched as the space between you closed, and then his lips met yours—soft, warm, and full of unspoken promises.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if he were afraid to shatter the quiet intimacy of the moment. But when he felt you lean into him, your fingers brushing lightly against his coat sleeve, he allowed himself to deepen it just slightly, his hand coming up to rest lightly on your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his thumb brushing softly along your jawline. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion.

“For what?” you asked softly, your voice still trembling slightly from the kiss.

“For trusting me,” Aaron replied, his gaze meeting yours. “And for letting me be here with you.”

Your shy smile returned, and you shook your head lightly. “I should be thanking you,” you whispered.

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back, his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice warm but steady.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you replied, your cheeks still flushed as you opened the door and disappeared inside.

Aaron stood there for a moment, the faint hint of your perfume lingering in the air. As he turned to walk back to his car, a rare sense of contentment settled over him. The kiss had been more than just a moment—it was a beginning. And he couldn’t wait to see where it would take them.

Aaron sat in his office late into the evening, the dim light casting long shadows across the walls. His tie was loosened, his jacket draped over the back of his chair. The day’s paperwork sat in a neat stack on his desk, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He thought about you—the shy way you smiled, the soft cadence of your voice, the way you seemed to bring warmth and light into even the simplest moments. There was something about your gentle, sweet demeanor that drew him in, and made him want to do more, be more.

Aaron had always been a man of action, of logic and order. But with you, he found himself wanting to lean into something softer, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: the romance of it all. Your femininity—delicate but unshakable—called to a side of him he hadn’t tapped into in a long time, the part that wanted to court you properly, to show you how deeply he cared.

Closing the last file of the night, Aaron leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips as an idea began to take shape. He wanted to do something special for you—something that would make you feel cherished. Not because you needed grand gestures but because you deserved to be celebrated.

He stood in the quiet bookstore, the scent of paper and leather-bound spines enveloping him as he carefully ran his fingers over the titles lining the shelves. He’d spent the day thinking about you—about the way your shy smile had lingered in his mind, about how you seemed to carry a quiet strength wrapped in gentleness. He wanted to give you something that reflected that—something meaningful, but not overwhelming.

As his fingers brushed over the spine of a beautiful, hardcover edition of one of his favorite novels, he paused. The cover was embossed with intricate details, and the pages were gilded with gold edges. He smiled to himself, knowing it was perfect. The book was a classic, timeless and heartfelt, just like you.

Later that evening, as you were tidying up Sweet Beginnings, the familiar chime of the bell startled you. You looked up to see Aaron stepping inside, his tall frame silhouetted by the glow of the streetlights behind him.

“Aaron,” you greeted, your voice soft but surprised. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached the counter. In his hands was a small, wrapped package.

Your eyes flicked to the gift, curiosity sparkling in your expression. “What’s this?”

Aaron placed it gently on the counter, his gaze steady but warm. “It’s for you,” he said simply. “Something I thought you might like.”

You blinked, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush as you reached for the package. Carefully unwrapping it, you gasped softly when the book came into view.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the gold edges of the pages. “Aaron, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. “It reminded me of you. Thoughtful, timeless, and more meaningful than you probably realize.”

Your blush deepened, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. Finally, you looked up at him, your shy smile softening your features. “Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “This is… perfect.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, his chest tightening at the sight of your happiness. “I know how much you love your coffee shop and the comfort it brings people,” he said, his voice low. “This felt like something you could enjoy during those rare quiet moments.”

Your fingers clutched the book a little tighter, and you looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re… incredibly thoughtful,” you murmured, your voice almost trembling.

Aaron stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “And you make it easy to be,” he said softly.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the shop wrapping around you both like a warm blanket.

“I’ll let you get back to closing up,” Aaron said after a moment, his voice gentle. “But… maybe we could plan that third date soon?”

Your shy smile widened, and you nodded, the book still cradled in your hands. “I’d love that.”

Aaron left the shop that night feeling lighter than he had in years. You inspired something in him—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long. And with every step forward, he found himself wanting to match your sweetness with a depth of care and romance that felt entirely natural, entirely right.

Aaron Hotchner turned to leave, but before he could take a step toward the door, your voice stopped him.

“Wait,” you said softly, almost hesitant.

He turned back, his eyes meeting yours, the shy smile still on your lips but now tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

“I was just about to have a little treat before I finished up here,” you said, your voice gentle. “I was going to eat it alone, but… would you like to stay and share it with me?”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a faint smile, and he took a step closer, his eyes warm. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your blush deepening slightly as you glanced down at the book still in your hands. “I think it’d be nice,” you murmured.

He hesitated only for a moment before pulling off his coat and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. “Then I’d love to stay.”

You disappeared into the back of the shop for a moment, leaving Aaron to settle into a chair by the counter. When you returned, you carried a small plate with two slices of pie, the golden crust gleaming under the soft light.

“It’s just apple pie,” you said, setting the plate down between you. “Nothing fancy, but it’s one of my favorites.”

Aaron picked up the fork you handed him, his gaze lingering on you as you slid into the seat across from him. “Apple pie happens to be one of my favorites, too,” he said, his tone light but warm.

You smiled, your blush deepening as you took a small bite. “Then I guess it’s perfect.”

As the two of you ate, the conversation flowed easily, though Aaron couldn’t help but watch the way you moved—so soft, so unassuming. He found himself leaning into the moment, his tone growing warmer, more teasing.

“You’re a hard person to say no to,” he said at one point, his gaze steady on yours.

You paused mid-bite, your eyes widening slightly as you glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile. “The way you asked me to stay just now. I don’t think I’ve ever been invited to something so… sweet. How could I say no to that?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your plate, fiddling with your fork. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” you murmured.

“You didn’t,” Aaron assured you, his voice low but firm. “In fact, I’m glad you did. Spending time with you—it’s the best part of my day.”

You froze for a moment, your fork clattering lightly against the plate as you looked up at him, your wide eyes shimmering with emotion. “You… really mean that?”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I do,” he said softly. “You’re… remarkable. And I don’t just mean because of how kind and thoughtful you are. It’s not something I’ve experienced in a long time.”

Your breath hitched, and your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aaron replied, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “But I hope you know how much I enjoy being here with you.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the shop wrapping around you both. Aaron could see the way your blush deepened, how your fingers nervously brushed against the edge of the table. It was endearing, and he found himself wanting to put you at ease in the only way he knew how.

“By the way,” he said, his tone turning playful, “if this is how you usually spend your evenings, I might have to make a habit of stopping by after hours.”

You laughed softly; the sound light and genuine, and Aaron felt a rare warmth spread through his chest. “I wouldn’t mind that,” you said shyly, your eyes meeting his again.

Aaron’s smile widened, and as he took another bite of pie, he realized that this moment—simple, unassuming, and shared with you—was everything he’d been looking for without even knowing it. For the first time in years, he felt completely at ease, entirely himself. And he couldn’t wait to see where this quiet, growing connection would take them.

Aaron took his last bite of pie, savoring the sweetness, but his attention was fully on you—the way your smile lingered, your cheeks still faintly flushed from his earlier words. You glanced at him shyly, your fork toying with the crumbs on your plate.

“I think you might be dangerous,” Aaron said suddenly, his voice low and teasing.

You looked up at him, startled. “Dangerous?”

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. You’ve got me sitting here in a coffee shop at the end of a long day, forgetting entirely about the rest of the world.” His dark eyes softened as they lingered on yours. “I think I could get used to this.”

Your blush deepened, and you bit your bottom lip, unsure how to respond. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” you said softly, your voice tinged with a nervous laugh.

Aaron leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he lowered his voice. “It’s a very good thing. You make everything feel… easier. Brighter.”

You blinked, your gaze dropping to your hands. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before,” you admitted, your tone almost too soft to hear.

“Well, someone should have,” Aaron said gently. His voice was steady, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made you look up again. “Because it’s true. And you deserve to hear it.”

The quiet weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, the air seemed charged with something unspoken. You fidgeted slightly, your fingers brushing the edge of the plate before you finally gathered the courage to speak.

“You’re… different than I thought you’d be,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re so serious at first, but then… you say things like that, and I don’t know what to do.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’m still serious,” he said, leaning a little closer, his eyes crinkling with a rare smile. “But you make it hard to keep my guard up.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt the heat rising to your cheeks again. “I… don’t know what to say to that,” you whispered.

“Then don’t say anything,” Aaron replied softly. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression shifting slightly—something warmer, more vulnerable. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll keep saying these things. Because I want you to know how I feel.”

You blinked at him, your heart racing at his words. “Aaron, I—”

Before you could finish, the sharp chime of your shop’s clock broke the moment, announcing the late hour. You glanced at it, startled. “Oh, it’s so late… I didn’t even realize.”

Aaron smiled, standing and grabbing his coat. “It is late,” he agreed, his tone still warm. “I should let you finish closing up.”

You stood as well, walking him toward the door, your hands twisting nervously in front of you.

Aaron paused at the door of the shop, his coat draped over his arm, his hand lingering on the handle. He didn’t want to leave—not yet. Not when the air between you felt so charged, so full of something unspoken.

“Thank you again,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the edges of your sleeves as if to steady yourself.

Aaron turned back to face you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’m the one who should be thanking you—for tonight, for letting me see this side of you.”

Your cheeks flushed, but instead of looking away as you usually did, you stepped a little closer. There was a flicker of resolve in your gaze, something shy but daring, and it caught Aaron off guard.

“Aaron,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking about this all night—about you.”

His breath hitched slightly, his posture straightening as he watched you, waiting.

“You’re kind and thoughtful and… everything I didn’t think someone like you would be,” you continued, your blush deepening. “And it’s making it really hard to not want to kiss you right now.”

Aaron blinked, stunned for a moment by your boldness. His lips parted slightly, and then a warm, genuine smile spread across his face—a rarity for him, but one that felt entirely natural in this moment.

“Then don’t stop yourself,” he said softly, his voice low and inviting.

Your breath caught, but before your nerves could take over, Aaron closed the space between you, his hand brushing gently against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like he was memorizing every small detail. But when he felt you relax into him, your hands lightly gripping the front of his shirt, he let himself deepen it just slightly, his other hand settling lightly on your waist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his dark eyes searching yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that tonight,” he murmured, his voice rough with honesty.

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers still clutching his shirt. “I thought I was imagining it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You… being interested in me.”

Aaron shook his head slightly, his thumb brushing along your jawline. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he confessed.

Your cheeks flushed again, but this time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you surprised him again, your boldness returning. “Well, if that’s the case, you should probably kiss me again,” you said, your tone soft but teasing.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm, and his smile widened as he leaned in once more. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured before his lips found yours again.

This time, the kiss lingered, filled with a quiet intensity that made the world outside the shop disappear. When he finally pulled back, his hand still cradling your face, he smiled at you—genuine, warm, and entirely captivated.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, your smile shy but glowing. “You’d better,” you teased lightly.

Aaron chuckled again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back toward the door. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice laced with quiet promise.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you replied, your voice filled with something hopeful and certain.

As Aaron walked out into the night, his heart felt lighter than it had in years. You had surprised him, challenged him, and made him feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in far too long. And he couldn’t wait to see where this path with you would lead.

Days later, Aaron Hotchner stood at the door of Sweet Beginnings once again, the soft glow from the shop's windows spilling out onto the quiet street. In his hand, he carried a bottle of wine he’d picked up on his way—a thoughtful gesture for what you’d described as a more casual date tonight. You had insisted he didn’t need to bring anything, but Aaron couldn’t help himself. He wanted to show you how much he cared and how much he valued this time with you.

When you opened the door, you were already smiling, your cheeks faintly flushed from the lingering warmth of the shop’s ovens. You were dressed comfortably—a soft sweater and jeans—but to Aaron, you looked as stunning as ever.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hi,” Aaron replied, his voice warm. He handed you the bottle, and his lips quirked into a faint smile. “I thought this might pair well with dessert.”

You looked at the bottle and then back at him, “You didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice grateful.

“I wanted to,” Aaron said simply, his dark eyes steady on yours.

You smiled again, setting the bottle on the counter before turning back to him. “I was thinking,” you began, your voice tinged with nervousness, “instead of staying down here… maybe we could go upstairs? It’s more comfortable.”

Aaron blinked, momentarily surprised by the invitation. He hadn’t expected you to suggest something so intimate, but the idea of seeing more of your world—of being closer to you—was one he couldn’t resist.

“If you’re comfortable with that,” he said gently, his tone leaving the decision entirely up to you.

You nodded, your smile shy but certain. “I am,” you said softly, turning toward the back staircase. “Come on.”

Your apartment was as warm and inviting as the shop below, filled with soft colors, cozy textures, and personal touches. Aaron took it all in as you gestured for him to sit on the couch, your nervous energy evident as you moved about the small space.

“I thought we could have dessert up here,” you said, your voice light but a little rushed. “I made a tart earlier, and—”

“Take your time,” Aaron said gently, cutting through your flustered tone. “It’s perfect.”

You paused, looking at him as he settled onto the couch, his expression soft and encouraging. His presence had a way of grounding you, even as the tension between you began to build.

You busied yourself in the kitchen for a moment, retrieving the tart and plates before joining him on the couch. Your hands trembled slightly as you handed him a plate, and you avoided his gaze, afraid he’d see the way your shyness warred with the growing tension between you.

“This looks amazing,” Aaron said, his voice sincere as he took a bite. “You really do have a gift.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” you murmured. “It’s just something I’ve always loved doing.”

Aaron watched you as you spoke, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. You could feel it—his intensity, the way he seemed to be taking in every detail. It made your heart race, the room feeling suddenly smaller.

After a few bites, Aaron set his plate down, leaning back slightly as he looked at you. “I wasn’t expecting to be invited up here,” he said softly, his tone measured but warm. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You laughed nervously, setting your own plate down. “I just thought… I don’t know. I wanted to share this part of me with you,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I know it’s not much, but it’s… mine.”

“It’s beautiful,” Aaron said, his voice low. “Like everything about you.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, the tension in the room becoming palpable. You felt it in the way his gaze lingered, in the space between you that seemed to shrink with every passing second.

“I don’t know how you do that,” you said suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what?” Aaron asked, his tone soft but curious.

“Say things like that,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing deeper. “You make me feel like I’m… someone else. Someone braver than I am.”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t need to be anyone else,” he said firmly. “You’re already more than enough.”

The air between you felt electric, the pull undeniable. Your shyness kept you rooted in place, but the growing tension was impossible to ignore. Your fingers trembled as they brushed against the edge of your sweater, your eyes darting to his lips before you quickly looked away.

Aaron noticed, his sharp instincts picking up on every subtle movement, every unspoken thought. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back slightly, giving you space while his own restraint was tested by the sheer pull he felt toward you.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

His words broke something in you—the careful wall you’d been holding up against the intensity of your feelings. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him, your voice trembling but bold.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” you said softly, your eyes locking onto his. “I just don’t know how to… do this.”

Aaron’s expression softened, and he reached out slowly, his hand brushing against yours. “You don’t have to know,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The tension between you was unbearable now, your shyness colliding with the desire blooming in your chest. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward, your lips brushing softly against his.

Aaron froze for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden boldness, but then his hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips moving against yours in a kiss that was tender but filled with unspoken promise.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven. Aaron’s dark eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“Was that brave enough for you?” you asked softly, your voice trembling but teasing.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm, and leaned in to kiss you again. His answer was clear without needing words.

The space between you small but charged. His arm rested on the back of the couch, and though he wasn’t touching you, the closeness of his presence made your skin tingle.

You had leaned back after the kiss, trying to calm your racing heart, but Aaron’s eyes hadn’t left you. His steady, dark gaze followed every nervous movement of your hands as they fiddled with the edge of your sweater, every flutter of your lashes as you avoided his intense look.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded quickly, though your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “It’s just… you.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Me?”

You exhaled a shaky breath, finally daring to glance up at him. His eyes softened as they met yours, and the warmth in them gave you just enough courage to speak.

“You make me so flustered,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing even deeper. “The way you look at me… like right now. It’s… it’s overwhelming sometimes.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, his head dipping slightly as if to meet your eyes more fully. “Overwhelming in a bad way?” he asked, his tone teasing but still gentle.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not bad. Just… I don’t know how to handle it. You make me feel like I’m about to melt when you look at me like that.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. His hand moved from the back of the couch to rest lightly on your knee, the weight of it grounding you even as your heart raced faster.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, his voice steady but filled with warmth. “The way you get flustered, the way you blush when I say something—it’s… charming. Sexy, even.”

Your eyes widened, and you froze for a moment before looking away again, your fingers brushing nervously against your lap. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me sexy before,” you whispered, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“Well,” Aaron said, leaning in slightly, his lips quirking into a small smile, “they should have. Because you are.”

Your breath caught, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks again. “Aaron…”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady on yours. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat, but his patience and warmth made it impossible to hold back. “I want you,” you blurted out, your voice trembling but honest. “I don’t know how to say it without sounding… I don’t know. But I do. I really, really want you.”

Aaron’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly, though his smile remained. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about that,” he said, his tone low but full of reassurance. “Hearing you say that? Knowing you feel that way? It’s… everything.”

You bit your lip, your fingers gripping your sweater tightly as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You just make me so nervous,” you admitted, your voice still trembling. “But I don’t want to be nervous. I want to be… confident. I want to be the kind of woman who can look at you and not completely fall apart.”

Aaron leaned closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “Just be you,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. “I like that you get nervous. I like that you’re shy. It makes every moment with you feel… real.”

Your lips parted slightly, your breath catching at the sincerity in his voice. “You mean that?”

“I mean it,” he said, his gaze steady. “You’re perfect just as you are. And if I’m making you melt just by looking at you…” His lips curved into a faint smirk, and his tone dropped slightly, “I’d say we’re off to a good start.”

You laughed softly, the sound breaking through your nervousness, and Aaron smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. This time, you didn’t pull away or shy away from his intensity. Instead, you let yourself lean into it, into him, feeling the tension between you shift into something warm and electric.

When the kiss ended, you rested your forehead against his, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous?” Aaron echoed, his voice filled with playful curiosity.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice tinged with teasing. “For my heart.”

Aaron chuckled again, the sound low and rich as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Then I guess I’ll have to handle it with care,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet promise.

Aaron’s forehead remained lightly pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. The weight of his hand on your cheek felt grounding, yet the tension between you still simmered, charged with an unspoken pull that neither of you could ignore.

“I mean it,” Aaron said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was low but steady, filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You don’t have to hide how you feel. Not with me.”

Your fingers trembled as they brushed against his shirt, gripping lightly as though to steady yourself. “It’s just… it’s so new,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone.”

Aaron pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His dark gaze was steady, reassuring, but there was something else in it now—a quiet intensity that made your breath catch. “Neither have I,” he admitted, his words honest and deliberate. “Not like this.”

Your eyes searched his, the sincerity in his voice making you feel both exposed and comforted all at once. “You… you make it feel easy,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Even when I’m nervous, even when I feel like I’m going to fall apart… you make it okay.”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his hand brushing softly along your cheek. “That’s how you make me feel, too,” he said, his voice low and warm.

The air between you thickened, the tension growing as his thumb traced slow, gentle circles against your skin. You leaned into his touch, your breath hitching as your body betrayed the restraint you were trying to hold onto.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I want you to kiss me again.”

His gaze darkened slightly, and his smile softened, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he leaned in. “I’d be lying if I said I’ve wanted anything else all night,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

The kiss that followed was deeper this time, more purposeful. Aaron’s other hand rested lightly on your waist, his touch firm but not demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pressing for more, but his presence alone made your skin tingle and your heart race.

You felt your shyness melting away under his attention, replaced by a slow-burning confidence that you hadn’t realized was there. Your hands moved from gripping his shirt to sliding up toward his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his sweater.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathing heavily, the silence filled with the sound of your shared breaths. Aaron’s forehead rested against yours once more, his eyes closed for a moment as though he were steadying himself.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he said softly, his voice rough with restraint. “But I can’t lie—it’s taking everything in me not to lose myself in you right now.”

Your blush deepened, but instead of retreating, you surprised yourself by speaking boldly. “I don’t want to rush either,” you said, your voice trembling but certain. “But… I don’t want you to hold back, either. I want to feel this. I want to feel you.”

Aaron’s eyes snapped open, his dark gaze locking onto yours as though he were searching for any sign of doubt. But when he saw none, his lips curved into a small, almost reverent smile.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone low but steady.

You nodded, your fingers tightening slightly on his shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered.

Aaron leaned in again, his kiss slower this time, more deliberate. His hands moved gently, one brushing along your back while the other cradled your face. Every touch felt like a question, and every response from you—whether it was a sigh, a soft touch, or the way you leaned into him—was an answer.

The tension between you no longer felt like a battle but a dance, one that neither of you wanted to end. For the first time, you felt yourself fully surrendering to the moment, to him, letting go of the nervousness that had always held you back.

The warmth of Aaron’s touch grounded you, even as the tension between you spiraled into something electric. His hands, steady yet gentle, moved with purpose—one cradling your cheek, the other brushing down your back, pulling you closer. Every kiss seemed to deepen the connection, erasing the space between you both physically and emotionally.

You leaned into him fully, your hands sliding over his chest and up to his shoulders, clutching him like he was the only thing tethering you to the ground. Your nervousness was still there, but it was drowned out by the intensity of the moment, by the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world.

Aaron pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing uneven as he searched your eyes. “You can tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Anytime. I need you to know that.”

You shook your head quickly, your hands tightening on his shoulders. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

His gaze softened, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his tone laced with admiration. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your shyness battling with the growing desire blooming in your chest. “I… I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before capturing your lips again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with unspoken promises. His hands began to roam, exploring cautiously but with intent, and every touch sent a new wave of heat through your body.

You let out a soft gasp as his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw and to the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your hands slid into his hair, your fingers curling as you tilted your head, giving him better access. The sound of your sighs, soft and breathy, seemed to spur him on, his movements growing more confident.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours once again. “Say the word,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “Tell me what you want.”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you met his gaze. “I want you,” you said softly but firmly, your hands sliding down to his chest. “All of you.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, one filled with warmth and desire. He leaned in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before standing, effortlessly lifting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. The sudden motion made you laugh softly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he carried you toward your bedroom.

The tension between you reached its peak as he laid you down gently, his touch careful but sure. His gaze lingered on you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of admiration and desire that made your heart race. You reached for him, pulling him closer, and as his lips found yours again, the world around you seemed to melt away.

And then, as the night deepened, the rest was lost to the soft whispers of your names and the quiet, shared discovery of one another, every barrier between you finally falling away.

Time seemed to slow as Aaron’s lips pressed against yours, each kiss deeper, more tender than the last. His touch was reverent, like he was memorizing every curve, every sigh, every part of you that made you uniquely you. The tension between you wasn’t rushed or frenzied but deliberate, a dance of unspoken words and shared longing.

His hands, warm and steady, mapped your body like a treasured discovery. Every brush of his fingers was gentle but purposeful, igniting a warmth in you that spread like the soft glow of dawn breaking over the horizon. He treated you with a care you’d never known, as though you were something precious he’d been entrusted to protect.

Aaron’s gaze, dark and full of emotion, never left yours. Even as his lips traveled down your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that made your breath hitch, he watched you, his eyes seeking your every reaction. You felt seen in a way that made you both shy and emboldened, your body arching instinctively toward his touch.

The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, every movement a reflection of the care and trust you’d built together. His whispered words, soft and low against your ear, sent shivers down your spine, and when he murmured your name, it sounded like a prayer.

You gave yourself to him completely, your hands exploring his strong, steady frame, marveling at the way his body responded to your touch. Each sigh, each quiet moan that escaped his lips, felt like an answer to the questions you didn’t know you were asking.

The way he held you, the way his touch lingered as though savoring every moment, made your heart swell. You’d never felt so adored, so cherished. The tenderness in his movements spoke of more than desire—it was devotion, a quiet declaration of everything he couldn’t yet put into words.

As the night deepened, you found yourself lost in him, and he in you. The world outside your small apartment faded into nothingness, leaving only the quiet rhythm of your shared breaths and the gentle hum of something deeper—something neither of you could deny.

And when the crescendo came, it wasn’t with fireworks or grand gestures but with a soft, shared sigh that spoke of contentment and connection. His forehead rested against yours, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as he whispered your name one more time, his voice filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt safe, seen, and completely loved. It wasn’t just a joining of bodies—it was the start of something bigger, something that neither of you could deny. And as the night gave way to the quiet stillness of early morning, you knew that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

The first thing you noticed was the warmth—the kind that wasn’t just from the heavy quilt draped over you but from the solid presence beside you. Aaron’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand resting gently against your stomach. The steady rhythm of his breathing brushed softly against the back of your neck, grounding you in a way that felt almost surreal.

The faint golden light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Everything felt still, suspended in a quiet kind of intimacy that made you hesitant to move. For a moment, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly over Aaron’s hand where it rested against you.

“You’re awake,” his voice came, low and rough from sleep.

You turned slightly, your cheeks warming at the realization that he’d caught you watching the way his fingers curled against your stomach. “I… didn’t want to wake you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and soothing. “I’ve been awake for a while,” he admitted, his arm tightening slightly around you. “I didn’t want to move and risk waking you.”

The tenderness in his words made your chest ache in the best way. You turned in his arms so you could face him, your eyes meeting his. His dark hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and the faint stubble on his jaw only added to the softness in his expression.

“Hi,” you said shyly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Hi,” he replied, his own lips curving into a faint smile. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch slow and deliberate.

You looked down for a moment, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “Last night…” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “It was… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Aaron’s thumb brushed lightly along your jawline, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. “It was perfect,” he said simply, his tone filled with quiet conviction. “Because it was you.”

Your breath hitched at the honesty in his voice, and you felt the familiar heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re too good at saying things like that,” you murmured, your fingers brushing against his chest.

“I only say what I mean,” he replied, his gaze steady on yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was warm, filled with the unspoken connection that had grown steadily between you. You reached up tentatively, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before,” you admitted softly. “Not with anyone.”

Aaron leaned into your touch, his eyes softening as he covered your hand with his. “Neither have I,” he said, his voice low but certain. “And I don’t want it to stop.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you met his gaze. “It scares me,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. “How much I feel for you. How much I… want this.”

Aaron’s hand slid down to rest against your waist, his grip firm but comforting. “It scares me too,” he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. “But I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for the first time, the fear that had been lurking at the edges of your mind seemed to fade. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and when he pulled you closer, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the quiet morning light, the world outside your small apartment seeming far away. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel it fully—the hope, the joy, and the undeniable certainty that you had found something worth holding onto.

“Time for me to get up and open the shop,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “And for you to get to work.”

Aaron sighed, his grip on you loosening reluctantly. “I suppose we can’t stay here all day.”

As you slipped out of bed and began to get ready, Aaron remained stretched out, watching you with a quiet intensity. You moved around the room with a blend of shyness and ease, glancing back at him occasionally, your cheeks flushing each time you caught his gaze.

“You’re staring,” you teased softly as you tied your apron over your casual dress.

“I am,” Aaron admitted unapologetically, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. “You make it hard not to.”

Your blush deepened, but you didn’t shy away this time.

At the BAU, Aaron Hotchner checked his watch as he sifted through a mountain of case files on his desk. He was already late for a briefing with the team, his morning a whirlwind of calls and paperwork. As he stood to leave, the familiar voice of Penelope Garcia carried across the bullpen.

“Hotch! Your favorite person is here—and no, it’s not me this time!”

He glanced up, eyebrows raised, and froze for a brief moment when he saw you standing beside Garcia, a tray of coffee in one hand and a small brown bag in the other. The sight of you in his office, your shy smile softening your features, made his heart tighten in a way he hadn’t expected.

You. Here. For him.

Aaron crossed the room in quick strides, his expression softening as he approached. “You didn’t have to come all the way here,” he said gently, his voice dropping to a private tone meant just for you.

“I wanted to,” you replied softly, holding out the tray. “I know you’re busy, and I thought… maybe this could make your day a little easier.”

The sincerity in your voice, the quiet thoughtfulness of the gesture, struck something deep within him. Taking the tray, his fingers brushed yours briefly, and he allowed himself a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm. “This means more than you know.”

Before he could say more, Penelope stepped in, her enthusiasm uncontainable. “And a pastry? Hotch, you’ve got a keeper!”

Aaron sighed lightly, glancing at Garcia with a faint shake of his head. “Garcia,” he said, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“What?” she said innocently, gesturing toward the tray. “I’m just stating facts.”

By now, JJ and Spencer had noticed the commotion and approached, curiosity evident in their expressions. JJ gave him a knowing look before turning her attention to you.

“You must be the owner of Sweet Beginnings,” JJ said warmly, extending a hand.

Aaron watched as you took the handshake, your shy smile making an appearance again. “I am,” you said softly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’ve got good taste, Hotch,” JJ teased, her gaze flickering back to him with a grin.

Aaron felt a faint warmth creep up his neck, but he kept his expression composed. “Let’s not make this a spectacle,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual edge.

Spencer stepped forward next, his natural awkwardness on full display. “I’ve read about coffee shops like yours,” he began, his voice gaining confidence as he spoke. “They act as community hubs, reducing isolation and fostering social interaction. It’s a fascinating model.”

Aaron’s gaze shifted to you, watching as you smiled gently at Reid’s rambling. “That’s one of the reasons I started it,” you said, your voice soft but genuine. “I wanted it to feel like a place where people could feel at home.”

Hearing you speak about your passion made Aaron’s chest tighten. He’d always admired your gentleness, but seeing you hold your own in the midst of his team—your shyness balanced by quiet confidence—made him feel something deeper, something solid.

Penelope, never one to let a moment pass without commentary, clapped her hands together. “You have no idea how much joy this brings me. Hotch hasn’t smiled this much in years, and now you’re here with coffee? You’re a saint--Hotch, can we keep her?”

Aaron gave her a sharp look, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s enough, Garcia.”

You laughed softly, your blush deepening as you glanced at him. “I should probably let you get back to work,” you said, your voice still tinged with nervousness.

Aaron stepped forward slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you toward the elevator, the rest of the team’s chatter fading into the background. When you reached the doors, Aaron turned to face you fully, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you—your shy smile, the faint blush still lingering on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “For coming here. For this.” He gestured toward the coffee tray still in his hand.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, though your smile told him otherwise.

“It’s not,” Aaron replied firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’ve made my day better in more ways than one.”

The elevator doors opened, and you hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “I’ll see you soon?” you asked softly, your eyes meeting his.

“You will,” Aaron said, his voice steady but warm.

As the doors closed and you disappeared from view, Aaron stood there for a moment, the coffee tray still in his hands. His morning had started as chaos, but now, with the simple gift of your presence, everything felt lighter.

He returned to his desk, Penelope’s teasing grin already waiting for him. But as he sipped the coffee you’d brought, Aaron couldn’t help but think about how seamlessly you’d begun to fit into his life—and how much he wanted to keep it that way.

The weeks that followed were a blur of quiet mornings, shared laughter, and the slow, steady building of something undeniable between Aaron Hotchner and you. Each date felt like peeling back another layer, revealing more of who you both were beneath the carefully constructed walls life had required you to build.

Aaron found himself drawn to your world—the warm, comforting atmosphere of your coffee shop, the way you spoke about your love for creating a place where people could feel at home. He loved the way your cheeks flushed when he surprised you with flowers or when he praised your baking. You, in turn, found yourself mesmerized by the way Aaron balanced his intensity with softness, his protectiveness with vulnerability. He opened up to you in ways you knew were rare, sharing pieces of his past, his fears, and his hopes for the future.

The intimate moments between you grew, each one deepening the connection. There were stolen kisses in the quiet of your apartment, his hands gentle but firm as he pulled you closer. There were late-night phone calls when his cases kept him away, his voice low and soothing as he talked to you about everything and nothing. There were mornings where he lingered at your shop before work, his dark eyes lighting up at the sight of you bustling behind the counter.

Your shyness began to ease in his presence, replaced by a quiet confidence that bloomed under his care. Aaron, in turn, found himself leaning into the romance of it all—bringing you small gifts that reminded him of you, planning thoughtful dates where he could watch your eyes light up, and holding you close as though afraid to let go.

It wasn’t long before you both realized the depth of what was forming between you. Love, quiet and sure, began to weave its way into your lives. And while neither of you said the words out loud just yet, it was clear in the way he looked at you, in the way you reached for him, and in the way you both felt when you were together: like you had finally found a home in each other.

The day you met Jack was unassuming but transformative for Aaron. He had been nervous, more than he cared to admit, as he brought his son to your coffee shop one sunny Saturday morning. Jack, curious and wide-eyed, had taken to you immediately, charmed by your gentle demeanor and the way you spoke to him with such genuine care.

You had knelt to his level, offering him a cookie you’d saved for him and asking about his favorite games with such ease that it made Aaron’s heart ache. Watching the two of you laugh together over a shared joke—or seeing Jack cling to your hand as you guided him behind the counter to show him the “secret bakery magic”—solidified something deep within Aaron.

In that moment, he saw not only how naturally you fit into his world but how much joy you brought to his son’s life as well. It was as if a missing piece he hadn’t realized he was searching for had finally clicked into place, and for the first time in years, Aaron allowed himself to hope for a future filled with the love and warmth you brought so effortlessly into their lives.

The soft hum of the heater filled the quiet of your apartment as Aaron sat on your couch, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up after a long day. The scent of tea lingered in the air, the steam curling lazily from the cup you’d placed in front of him. He felt the weight of the day still on his shoulders, but the warmth of your home—and your presence—was already easing it away.

“You wouldn’t believe the guesses I got today about the ‘secret ingredient’ in my apple tarts,” you said with a small laugh, sitting across from him in the armchair. “Cinnamon, nutmeg… someone even suggested lavender.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Lavender? In an apple tart?”

“I know,” you said, laughing as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I couldn’t tell her the truth. It’d ruin the mystery.”

Aaron watched you as you spoke, your laughter soft and genuine, the way your hands moved expressively when you got caught up in a story. It was the kind of moment he never thought he’d have again—simple, comforting, and entirely yours.

“You’re good at this, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice soft.

You looked up at him, tilting your head slightly. “At what?”

“Making things feel lighter,” he replied, his gaze steady. “Easier.”

You blushed, a shy smile playing on your lips. “I think you just need more nights off.”

Aaron shook his head, his eyes not leaving yours. “It’s not about nights off,” he said quietly. “It’s you.”

The words came so easily, so naturally, that they surprised even him. He hadn’t planned to say them, but now that they were out there, he realized just how deeply he meant them.

Your blush deepened, and you ducked your head, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sweater. “Aaron…”

“Come here,” he said softly, patting the seat beside him.

You hesitated for only a moment before moving to sit next to him, leaning into his side. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was filled only with the soft ticking of the clock and the quiet hum of the heater. Aaron’s fingers traced absent patterns along your arm, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he began, his voice low but steady. “But I need to tell you something.”

You turned your head slightly, your wide eyes meeting his. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his hand stilling on your arm as he searched for the right words. But then, as he looked at you—your shy smile, your gentle eyes, the quiet strength in the way you leaned into him—he realized there was no point in holding back.

“I love you,” he said, the words quiet but firm. There was no hesitation in his tone now, no doubt. “I didn’t plan to say it, not tonight, but it’s true. And I need you to know that.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you stared at him, your cheeks flushed with emotion. “You… you do?”

“I do,” Aaron said, his voice softening as his hand moved to cup your cheek. “I know it’s fast, and I don’t want to overwhelm you. But you’ve brought something into my life I didn’t think I’d ever have again. And I mean it—every word.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and a radiant smile spread across your face as you reached up to cover his hand with yours. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Aaron exhaled, relief and something deeper flooding through him. He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and tender, filled with everything he couldn’t put into words.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled—a rare, genuine smile that you knew was just for you. “You make me feel like myself again,” he murmured. “Like I’m not just… getting through the day.”

“You make me feel the same way,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his jaw.

In the quiet warmth of your apartment, with your heartbeats steady and aligned, Aaron realized that he hadn’t just fallen in love with you—he had found a future he hadn’t dared to hope for. And with you in his arms, it felt as though everything in his world had finally fallen into place.

The months that followed were filled with a quiet joy that neither of you had anticipated but both of you cherished. Aaron found himself carving out moments of calm amidst the chaos of his work, prioritizing time with you in a way that felt natural, even necessary. You, in turn, opened up in ways you never thought possible, letting him see every piece of you—your dreams, your fears, your past—and finding that he met each one with unwavering patience and care.

One evening, after a long day for both of you, Aaron arrived at your apartment with Jack in tow. The boy had insisted on bringing you a drawing he’d made—two stick figures holding hands, standing in front of a coffee shop with the words “Y/N and Dad” scrawled in his careful handwriting. The look on Aaron’s face as Jack handed it to you, beaming with pride, spoke volumes. He was proud of the life you were all building together, the way you had seamlessly become a part of his and Jack’s world.

Later that evening, as Jack dozed off on your couch, Aaron helped you clean up after dinner. The domesticity of the moment struck him—his sleeves rolled up, you at the sink rinsing dishes, both of you working in quiet harmony. It wasn’t just comfortable; it was home.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Aaron asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You glanced over your shoulder, your brow furrowing slightly at the question. “I do,” you said softly, drying your hands on a towel. “Why?”

Aaron turned to face you, his dark eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Because I see it. With you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your lips parting as you struggled to find the words to respond. Before you could speak, Aaron stepped closer, his hands settling lightly on your waist.

“I never thought I’d have this again,” he admitted, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “A home. A partner. Someone who makes me want to be better every single day.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in, and you reached up to rest your hands on his chest. “Aaron…”

“I love you,” he said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “I’ve loved you since I walked into your shop for the first time, even if I didn’t realize it then. And I’ll keep loving you—for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your tears spilled over, and you let out a soft, breathy laugh as you nodded. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I always will.”

Aaron leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The challenges of his job, the weight of his past—they didn’t disappear, but they no longer defined him. You were his future, and he was yours.

As Jack stirred on the couch, mumbling something about cookies in his sleep, Aaron pulled back with a soft chuckle. “I should probably put him to bed,” he said, his forehead resting against yours for a moment longer.

You smiled, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “Stay,” you said softly. “Both of you. Stay tonight.”

Aaron’s eyes softened, and he nodded, his heart swelling with a quiet certainty. “We’d like that,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

That night, as the three of you settled into the cozy rhythm of your home, Aaron couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new. Not just a chapter, but an entirely different book—one filled with love, laughter, and a life he hadn’t dared to dream of until he met you. And as he held you close, with Jack asleep nearby, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

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nadvs · 22 days ago

Text

the act of unravelling (part four)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

You sit in your manager’s office, facing the bay window that overlooks the vast golf course. Your fingers are interlaced in an effort to hide the way your hands are trembling.

When Detective Brading asked for the space as you meekly followed him into the office, your boss shot you an unsettled glance, then agreed and left the room.

It throws you into a chilling realization. Everyone will give you that same condemning look when they find out the truth. You can’t imagine why else a cop unexpectedly came to your workplace and dragged you away – he must know what you’ve done.

The confidence you had last night that you’d get away with this crumbles when the door slams shut, making you flinch. Detective Brading expels a deep sigh. Why doesn’t he just arrest you and get it over with?

“Every second in a missing person’s case is precious,” the detective tells you. He sits on the edge of the desk instead of in the chair behind it, staring down at you. If he’s trying to scare you, it’s working.

Missing. At least that means they haven’t found Porter’s body.

“I hate to disrupt you like this at work.” His words mismatch his tone. “But I think you can help us.”

“How?” you ask.

“You said you were with Rafe for a couple hours the night Porter went missing,” he says. “Do you know where he went after he dropped you off?”

“Home,” you answer quickly.

“And you’re sure about that?”

“I’m…” You can’t be too defensive. It’ll raise red flags. “Pretty sure.”

The detective sighs again, as if you’re disappointing him with every word you say.

You glance at the framed photos of your boss and his family on the wall. He lives such a comfortable, normal life. You lost your chance at normalcy the second you told Rafe to pull the trigger.

“I’m sure it’s hard to hear this about a friend of yours, but we think he played a role in Porter’s disappearance,” he says. “And we need to ask you to talk to him about that night.”

“Me?”

“Yes. We’d have you wearing a wire.”

“What?” you say, floored. “Why me? We haven’t been hanging out that long. I don’t think he’d trust me enough to tell me anything.”

You hope you didn’t just discredit yourself or Rafe. But if they try to get one of Rafe’s other friends to trick him into a confession, you know for a fact that he wouldn't admit a thing. But you? You’re the only person he’d openly talk to about what really happened.

Your body is tight with anxiety. Maybe that’s why they’re asking you to do it. They think you know something and Rafe slipping up in a conversation with you is their meticulous way of proving it.

“I shouldn’t share this, but his other friends don’t believe that he’s entirely innocent,” Brading says. “You’re the only one we spoke to who does. And I think Rafe knows that you’re in his corner. I can tell you’re a good kid. Do the right thing and help us find Porter.”

You don’t buy it. You can’t ignore the instinct telling you that Brading is suspicious of you, too. He’s manipulating you. And for once, it feels good to be underestimated.

If you refuse to help, it could work against you. But if you agree, and you find a way to warn Rafe that you’re being listened to, that’d help your case. And his.

“I’d have eyes on you the entire time,” the detective explains. “He’s out on the golf course now. He came alone. Act like it’s just another day at work. Strike up conversation. See if he can open up about what he did after he dropped you off that night.”

“You want me to do this now?” you stutter.

“Like I said, every second is precious,” he says. “I know you’re caught off guard, but he’ll be, too. It’ll work to our advantage. I’d be in your ear, telling you what to say. You can handle this.”

This is a trick. It has to be. He cornered you because he suspects you, and now, he’s trying to outsmart you.

You mentally run through the possibilities. You can’t contact Rafe to warn him. But you could type a note out on your phone and find a way to flash it to him inconspicuously.

You’ll figure it out. And if you can’t, you’ll back out and say you couldn’t handle the pressure.

“Okay,” you agree. “I can do it.”

“Good.”

“I just need a second. Can I go to the restroom?”

“Yes. I have to ask you to leave your phone. We can’t take any risks.”

He assumes you’ll give Rafe a head’s up. Now you’re sure you’re a suspect, too. You try to look understanding as you hand him your phone.

·········

You’re seconds away from a panic attack as you pace around the private restroom, trying to figure out how the hell you can tip Rafe off. Maybe you should just back out.

Then, it comes to you.

The logbook tucked in your backpocket. The one Rafe teased you about and called your diary just last week. It’s your way out.

You uncap the pen hooked onto the book, open to an empty page, and write: wearing a wire. act innocent.

·········

Rafe lines up his club behind the white ball, his shoulders tight. He can’t shake off what happened last night.

You’re afraid of him. You pulled him in and pressed your lips against his, but then you shoved him away when he tried to hold you. And after you promised you wouldn’t screw him over, you left abruptly and took away the warmth he’s spent his whole life craving.

You’re supposed to have each other’s backs. He owes you and he wants to protect you, but you act like he’s a wild animal you can’t trust won’t bite you. He doesn’t know how to prove that you don’t need to be scared of him.

And it’s not just you expecting the worst of him. The way his own friends have been acting around him, shifty and tense, is pissing him off. He is guilty, but the fact that they have no faith in him digs a hole into his already overwhelming loneliness.

He’s out here on his own because he desperately needs to clear his head. He desperately needs to see you.

You drive the cart over the paved pathway to where Brading told you Rafe is. Your heart is racing, terrified this will go terribly wrong.

“You can still hear me clearly?” Brading says in your ear.

“Yes,” you say quietly. The earpiece he gave you is tiny and unnoticeable. The logbook you placed beside you after you drove off is the only chance you have of warning Rafe.

“Remember, act natural. Bring up Porter when it feels right,” Brading says. “Looks like he spotted you.”

You pull up to Rafe as he places a club in the bag hanging off the back of his cart. You remind yourself over and over that you have to speak about Porter in the present tense.

You can’t believe you’re here. Life twisted and turned and things you never imagined possible are your reality now.

There’s a genuinity in Rafe’s smile when your eyes meet his, the complete opposite of the pompous smirk you’ve seen over the years you’ve known him. If your heart wasn’t already pounding from adrenaline, it would be from the way he’s looking at you.

“Finally,” he says. “I was getting thirsty.”

“Don’t tell me you want a beer this early in the morning,” you sigh tensely, staying seated as you look over your shoulder to the cooler packed in the back. Brading is yards away, parked in a cart and posing as a golfer taking a break. Your breath is shaky.

“I’m kidding,” Rafe says, a little softer. He steps forward, hand on the roof of your cart, leaning closer to you. His eyes search your face. You’ve been aching to see him again. You wonder if he feels the same. “You mad at me or something?”

“Ask him why he’s alone,” the detective instructs you, jerking you out of your small moment of joy.

“I’m always mad at you,” you joke. “How come you’re alone out here? You’re always with your friends.”

“They’ve been pissing me off lately,” he mutters.

“Why?” Brading says. You plead with your eyes that Rafe just look down at your note, but he speaks before you can repeat the detective’s word.

“Why’d you run out last night?” His gaze trails down to your lips, his voice low. “Thought we were having a good time.”

It’s embarrassing to know you’re being listened to. And nerve-wracking that now the detective knows you’re more than just friends. Anyone could tell from Rafe’s suggestive tone that something happened.

You did suddenly leave the closet you’d led him to last night. Kissing him got to be overwhelming. But you can see in his gaze that it wasn’t just an impulsive, passion-filled makeout at a party. It meant something to him. And it’s a relief, because it meant something to you, too.

The chemistry you felt with him was always returned. It was just contained. Watered down. And now, whatever this is could end before it even begins. He could say one thing and get you both into trouble.

You regret agreeing to this. You need to get Rafe’s attention on the open book beside you before it’s too late.

“We were. I had to get back to my friends,” you say. “Why are yours pissing you off?”

“You know,” he says, glancing to the side. “They’re always lookin’ at me like I’m guilty.”

You can hear your pulse. You keep your eyes on Rafe, discreetly tapping on the page. He doesn’t notice. He doesn't follow your silent instructions.

“Are you?” Brading says. You repeat the two words, your throat dry.

Rafe’s brows furrow in confusion. He looks at you again. A tense silence blankets you.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” you say. “Not even my diary.”

Your heart lifts in all-consuming relief when Rafe catches your meaning. He looks down at the logbook and realization washes over his face.

You’re safe. The man in your ear isn’t going to discover a thing.

“What, you agree with them?” Rafe asks. His tone is casual, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a nervous swallow. Your eyes are locked knowingly, enveloped in the comfort that he knows to play along now.

“Tell him no,” Brading says.

“No,” you half-laugh. “I’m just saying, if there is something about that night that you didn’t tell me, you can trust that it’ll stay between us.”

“I was with you.”

“Ask him what he did after,” Brading instructs.

“Not all night,” you reply, cocking your head. “Where’d you go after you dropped me off?”

“Home. You know that,” he replies. “Even you’re doubting me now? Come on.”

“No,” you repeat. You reach for his hand, eyes trained on him. “I’m sorry. I just meant to say… if something happened, I wouldn’t judge you for it. You trust me, right?”

Rafe’s body buzzes at your touch. He does. He completely trusts you and it’s such a new, comforting feeling and he wishes you felt it for him, too.

“I do,” he says.

“You’d tell me?”

“I would.”

You nod reassuringly.

“I don’t know where Porter is,” Rafe says. “And I wish people would stop looking at me like I did something to him. I’m so sick of everyone expecting the worst of me.”

You’re not sure where his lie ends and the truth begins, but his fixed gaze is heavy with sincerity.

“We’re not getting anywhere with him,” Brading mutters. “End the conversation and meet me back at the office.”

“I don’t expect the worst of you,” you tell him.

His shoulders relax and you can tell your words did something to him. You nod again, a small, relieved smile pulling on your lips.

“I should get back to work,” you say. “You sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

“You’re just fishing for a tip now,” Rafe replies, smirking.

“Guilty.”

You both share a soft chuckle, the twisted joke behind your word choice not lost on either of you.

·········

The detective is tense when you see him again, a minor crack in his confident demeanor. It’s clear he thought he was going to catch you – both of you – today.

You thought you’d clear your and Rafe’s name through the monitored conversation, but Brading just looks angry now.

“You didn’t mention your relationship is more than friendly,” he says, arms crossed as he stands across from you in your boss’s office. He didn’t even care to sit down this time.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you needed to know that.”

“I need to know everything. You were withholding information,” he tells you. “And there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

The facade he was putting on has faded. He’s on edge and direct about the fact that he doesn’t trust a word out of your mouth.

“There isn’t,” you reply.

“Listen,” Brading says, his voice heavy and terse. “Porter’s family brought me into this because I’ve had a long, successful career of putting away scumbags like your boyfriend. I know your type. I know you’re covering for him. And you’re just making it worse for yourself by not telling me what you know.”

You don’t respond, staring at him blankly, your heart drumming in fear.

“I could make things easier for you if you just admit it,” he says. “A judge is likely to be lenient when someone helps with an investigation. I’d vouch for you.”

He’s intimidating. But you won’t give in. You never will.

“I don’t know anything,” you state.

His lips close into a firm line as he steps past you.

“I’ll see you soon,” Brading threatens before he opens the door.

·········

The lip of the sun still clings onto the ocean horizon as Rafe drives south. He was relieved when you texted him to come over tonight. He needs to see you. And he needs to talk about what happened this morning.

You answer your front door and Rafe takes in your gentle gaze and he swears that the pull he always felt towards you is a thousand times stronger because for once, you actually seem glad to see him.

“We can go to my room,” you say. You’ve been anxious to meet with him. You can’t control your impulse and you don’t see any reason to.

You press your cheek against his chest and wrap your arms around him the moment your bedroom door shuts behind you. His heart is thudding against your ear, his body hard and warm.

Rafe hesitantly cups your arms, not sure if you’ll push him away like you did last night.

“He just showed up at my work,” you say in a nervous rush, “and I thought if he heard you say you didn’t do anything, he’d back off, but then he said he knows I’m hiding something. He’s onto us. I don’t think we should talk to him without a lawyer. I can’t afford one. You have to help me pay for one.”

Rafe realizes you’re trembling beneath him. He doesn’t give a fuck that the man who scared you like this is a cop; if he was in front of him right now, he’d punch him.

“I will,” he says. “That was smart. The note.”

“I was so worried you wouldn’t see it.” You pull back, craning your neck to meet his eyes. “I know it was risky. You did a good job.”

He nods, gazing down at you. He’s not used to people telling him he did something right.

It’s unreal to be here, standing in your bedroom, past the guard you’ve forced him to stay behind for so long. It’s intimate seeing where you live, where you sleep, where you exist.

“He told me a judge would go easy on me if I helped with the case,” you admit, “but I have your back. And I don’t expect the worst of you, okay? I know you have my back, too.”

“You trust me?” Rafe asks, a hint of surprise in his deep voice. His hands drag down your arms, stopping at your wrists.

You wriggle against him, a subconscious test that you’re not trapped. He immediately releases you.

It makes his chest ache to know you expect him to harm you.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says.

Your body betrays you. Tears surface, hot and fast. The fresh wound lodges against your heart.

“It’s not…” You step back, knees wobbling. Your legs are suddenly desperate to rest and can’t hold you up any longer. “It’s not personal.”

You step away, sitting at the edge of your bed, head in your hands. You’ve barely been keeping it together, trying to outrun the shadow of pain that’s been haunting you. There’s no limit to what you’d give to forget what happened.

You brush your hands off your face when you hear the floorboards creak. Rafe leans in front of you, crouched at your feet. You watch his hands ghost over your calves.

It throws you for a loop, seeing him on your floor like this. For so long, all you assumed about him was that he thought he was above you. Now, he’s on his knees for you.

“Hey.” He says it in the same way he did after the gun went off. He doesn’t have to tell you to look at him. You know that’s what he wants.

You meet his eyes, and when you see the genuine concern swimming in the deep blue, all the strings hardly keeping you together unravel.

“It wasn’t about money,” you utter tearfully.

“What?”

“It wasn’t ever about money. He didn’t rip me off.” Your sobs start to come out as gasps. “He hurt me.”

Rafe’s veins turn to ice. He frantically searches your face for an explanation because no, it can’t be what he’s thinking.

“I passed out while he…” You shake your head, tears rolling over your cheeks as you shut your eyes. “It’s like my mind couldn’t take what he was doing to my body and I passed out. And then you came in…”

His breaths grow shallow. That’s why you were as angry as you were. Why you cried as hard as you did. Why you tense up and shove him away when he holds you.

When Rafe pushed Porter in that room, he never would have expected you’d be there, bearing the pain of something that fractured you. He’s furious, disgusted, in disbelief.

He sees now that you meant when you said you don’t regret killing him. The empty look on your face was never guilt. It was fear. Trauma.

“I know I shouldn’t have gone upstairs alone,” you whisper, eyes still closed. “I didn’t think–”

“Stop,” he says softly. His hands rest on your face, palms gently cupping your wet cheeks. Of all the things you thought you knew about him, you would’ve never expected him to be so tender. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It settles your coiled heart hearing him dismiss the nauseating, intrusive thoughts you’ve had blaming yourself for what happened. You finally open your eyes to look at him again.

His eyes are glossy. He knows now and he’s looking at you with so much sympathy that your chest stutters with your gasps, stomach somehow twisting in both pain and relief.

For once, Rafe doesn’t say the first thing that pops into his head – that if he knew what Porter had done, he would have made him suffer, he would have tortured him, instead of shooting a single, life-ending bullet. Because there’s no point. You saved his life that night and he wishes he could’ve saved yours, but all he can do right now is tell you what he will do instead of what he would have done.

“I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again,” he murmurs. “I swear on my life. You’ll always be safe with me.”

He’s hesitant to startle you with his touch, but thankfully, you lean over and wrap your arms atop his shoulders and it’s so gratifying to know you’re using him to ground yourself.

Rafe holds you like he can’t get close enough. Because he can’t. Nothing he does now can take back what happened to you but everything he does moving forward will be to make sure you never experience a horror like that again.

His life is no longer a cycle of numbing thrills. He has a real reason to keep going now.

You inhale the comforting smell of his neck, your cheek pressed against his. You curl into him as you shake through your sobs.

“Nobody else knows,” you admit, voice muffled against his skin. “I didn’t think I’d tell.”

Even after what you’d done together, a bond that didn’t exist between you before digs its roots into you both. He’s holding you with softness you didn’t know he was capable of, after making a promise so sincere that you felt it in your core.

“You’re safe,” he whispers. And for the first time since that terrifying night, you feel it.

·········

It’s been five days since Brading accosted you at work. Even though he hasn’t bothered you since, and there haven’t been any public updates on the investigation, you’re on edge knowing that you and Rafe are suspects.

Since then, when you’re not working or hanging out with your friends, you’re with Rafe.

You still haven’t told the guys. You don’t know how you could possibly prove to them how good of a man Rafe actually is when you can’t tell them a single detail of what’s happened between you. You’d rather not have to explain yourself to them. Not yet.

Rafe doesn’t pester you about being your secret. As long as he’s something to you.

It’s dusk and you’re sitting on the quiet beach with him, cocooned in comfort and curled up on the sand, the setting sun playing across his handsome face.

Since your conversation in your bedroom, you haven’t spoken about the night that tied you two together.

But you have been speaking to each other like never before, holding onto the playfulness that always existed beneath your banter, allowing yourselves to talk and joke and kiss with no inhibitions. Except he doesn’t dare hold you without asking if he can first.

Tonight, as you sit side-by-side in the clouded orange and pink glow, Rafe feels a smile on his face, a real one, after not smiling for so many years. Being with you is the first time in a long time that he feels vaguely normal.

“It’s too bad,” you say, gazing at his dimples.

“What is?” Rafe rasps.

“That you’ve been keeping this smile from me for so long,” you say with a glint in your eyes. “Why were you so dedicated to hating me?”

“You hated me,” he scoffs with a smirk.

“You started it. All that Pogue/Kook crap.” You meant it as a joke, but Rafe’s smile fades. He looks ahead at the crashing waves. You hit a nerve.

“What?” you ask softly.

Rafe is consumed by his own emotions. He’s a victim to how demanding and overwhelming they can be. He’s been like that for most of his life.

Being with you has cleared some of the fog in his head. He knows now that he was desperate for some form of connection and that’s why he bought into the idea that being part of a group meant something.

If he had nothing of substance to him, nothing lovable, at least he had wealth in common with a social circle he always felt disjointed from. It was a ridiculous substitute for a sense of belonging.

“I was jealous,” he finally admits.

“Jealous?” you echo.

His jaw tenses. He can’t look at you.

“You’ve seen it yourself,” Rafe mutters. “When shit hit the fan, nobody backed me up. Nobody checks up on me. Nobody gives a damn. I don’t have any real friends. And you called your friends family. I don’t have that. I don’t have anybody. It’s why I sell coke. It’s pathetic, but at least I have something worth…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. The man who you thought had everything never did. He was in pain, lonely, selling drugs because at least it gave people something to like about him.

“Rafe,” you say quietly. He meets your gaze. You wish you could unsee the hurt in his eyes. “You have me. I care about you so much.”

You look at him in all the ways he’d always secretly hoped you would. The years of longing for you – the girl who always has a retort, who always keeps him on his toes, who always looks so frustratingly beautiful – all those daydreams don’t come close to how it actually feels to have you like this.

He wonders if you have any idea of all the ways you can break him.

“Yeah?” is all he can mumble, his throat tight.

You nod, finding his hand and pulling it to your chest. He’s not sure if you meant to press him up against where he can feel your pulse, but he feels the rhythmic thudding coming from beneath your skin, and God, is it insane that he feels like he lives for your heartbeat?

He thought he was fine living an empty life. But he’s gotten a taste of being wrapped up in you and he doesn’t want to lose it. Ever.

“You keep me safe,” you say softly. “Let me do the same for you in my own way, alright?”

He nods, blinking away tears. Your heart breaks and you lean forward, losing yourself in his kiss. His lips are soft and gentle, pushing against yours with a soft fragility.

“Are you okay?” you whisper against his cheek. He hasn’t been okay in so long. But this is the closest to it he’s ever gotten. He doesn’t want to hide you. He wants everyone to see you chose him.

“Do you want to go to that bonfire tonight?” he asks.

There’s a party at the beach you spoke at a couple of weeks ago, back when Rafe stopped you after you bought a joint from Porter.

“Together?” you ask. He nods, uncertainty pinching his face. You can tell he’s expecting you to say no. As if you’re ashamed of him.

You’re almost sure your friends won’t be there. They asked you to hang out at Pope’s tonight and you declined and said you’d stay home. They probably won’t be at the bonfire.

Either way, you’re willing to take the risk. Rafe is worth it.

·········

Gossip spreads like weeds. You can tell by how people stare at you when you arrive with Rafe that his name has been in everyone’s mouths, whispering conspiracies about what he did to Porter. You know your name will start to come up in those conversations, too.

“So, it’s true,” one of his buddies says when he sees you cupping Rafe’s bicep as you join the group, the bonfire crackling. “You’re really messing with a Pogue.”

“That’ll be the last time you call her that, got it?” Rafe says sharply. His friend scoffs a laugh, putting his hands up in feigned surrender, his beer bottle sloshing.

Rafe leans to mumble in your ear, “Do you want a drink?”

“Yeah,” you say, eager to take the edge off.

You swallow the bitterness of the drink Rafe picks up for you, staring ahead at the ocean, thinking about how somewhere in the vast expanse, Porter’s body is lying at the bottom.

“Man, it’s weird just… continuing to live life, isn’t it?”

You look up to see a man standing beside you. He’s a friend of the person you killed. You recognize him from the day at the club when Porter called you over. You still get shivers remembering his smile.

“What do you mean?” you mumble.

“Porter. He’s just gone,” he continues. There’s a slur in his words. He’s drunk. “He’s gotta be… you know. There’s no other explanation.”

You tighten your grip on Rafe’s arm, but he doesn’t notice, lost in conversation with one of his buddies.

“Yeah,” you offer. “It’s sad.”

“He told me he liked you,” he says with a raised brow. “He had a huge crush on you.”

You can taste bile on your tongue. You look up at Rafe, whose attention is on your conversation now. His stare is hard, his nostrils flared in anger.

“I didn’t know,” you say simply.

“Really?” he laughs. “He said you were playing hard to get.”

His vile words make your breath hitch.

The flame in Rafe rises so fast that within two seconds, he swings a punch. And suddenly, he’s leaning over, knuckles ramming into the idiot’s face as he lies on the sand, unleashing the rage of what happened to you and the urge to take your pain away.

He could kill him.

Rafe feels hands at the crooks of his shoulders pulling him back. He struggles to get on his feet, his friends’ words overlapping as they try to calm him down. He’s breathless, looking up to meet your eyes, taking in how completely lost and anguished you look.

He roughly pushes his friends off as he stumbles towards you, his shaking hands resting on your shoulders.

“Let’s go,” he says to you, looking at you like you’re the only one here.

“You’re such an asshole!” the guy on the ground shouts.

Rafe ignores him, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you away from the crowd. You’re trembling, thrown back to that night, thrown back to being called a tease, thrown back to being held down.

You reach the parking lot, not nearly far enough from the loud crowd, still hearing the crackling of the fire, when your knees buckle.

Your heart is pounding so hard that you’re afraid it’s going to give out. But Rafe holds you up as you stand between parked cars, looking at you with desperation.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay.”

You find strength as you pull your arms up around his shoulders. He holds you tightly, firm and still against your shaking body.

You’re slowly finding peace.

Then you hear JJ’s voice mutter, “What the hell?”

You pull back, spotting him a few feet away with Pope and John B getting out of the car, looking at you with an expression you can only describe as appalled. You don’t have words. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Blistering sirens reverberate through you. They get so loud so fast that you don’t realize you’ve lost contact with Rafe until a police car jolts to a stop a few feet away from you.

This has to be a nightmare.

Detective Brading swings open the door, followed by another cop, rushing towards you and Rafe. He’s carrying handcuffs. You might lose consciousness.

“Knew this day was coming, didn’t you?” Brading says before he grips Rafe’s wrist, pushing him up against the nearest car.

Rafe struggles, but Brading slams him against the hood of the car so hard that you hear the thud of his skull against the metal.

“Stop! You can’t hurt him like that!” you cry. The other police officer steps in front of you, pushing you back. You expect him to handcuff you, too. He doesn’t.

You look around you in terrified desperation as if someone can help. The crowd has quickly come closer, watching in awe, as if you and Rafe’s lives aren’t being pulled apart for everyone to see.

You meet Rafe’s frightened gaze as the side of his face presses against the car. Brading flatly recites his rights, handcuffing him, ignoring you as you beg that he tell you why he’s being arrested, that he stop hurting him.

Rafe doesn’t say a word until you whimper in pain and plead to the officer keeping you back to stop holding so tight. He tries to charge forward, demanding he take his hands off of you, earning him another rough push against the car.

Brading hauls him away and you try to follow, but the other officer keeps you back, gripping you so hard that it reminds you of Porter all over again.

“You want to get arrested, too?” he mutters. Your muscles give in, losing tension. You still don’t understand why Rafe’s being arrested and you’re not.

“No. Sorry. I’ll stop,” you say weakly. “Where’s he being taken?”

The officer doesn’t believe you at first, but eventually, he loosens his grip.

“The county jail,” he says, looking past your shoulder as the car door shuts.

Then, they leave, and you’re in front of the crowd, in front of your friends, frozen and speechless.

·········

Your mouth is dry as you wait in the lobby of the quiet jail. They won’t give you any information. Nothing about what the charge is, how long Rafe will be here, if he’ll be given bail. It’s been an hour.

You hold JJ’s car keys in your shaking hands. You were frantic when you begged him to lend you his car, promising you’d take care of it.

He confusedly agreed and you left immediately, not exchanging any other words, following the police car just in case the officer lied to you about where they were going.

Your phone is dead and your connection to the outside world is dead with it.

Your stomach drops when you spot Brading exit through a door behind the processing desk.

“What’s happening?” you ask. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

He stiffly cuts through the lobby, pushing open the front door, letting it swing behind him. You grunt as the door hits your palms.

“I suggest you go home,” Brading mutters as you trail him into the dark parking lot. “I can charge you for assault against a police officer if you don’t stop harassing me.”

“Please. I just want to know,” you plead. “Nobody will tell me anything.”

You’re sure he’s getting a power trip out of this. You didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. Now, he won’t tell you.

“Please,” you repeat, feeling utterly powerless. The detective stops abruptly, facing you, his face in a scowl.

“I’m ordering you to go home,” he says sharply.

“Brading?” someone calls behind him.

Within a matter of seconds, you hear something you never thought you’d hear again. The single and unmistakable blow of a gunshot.

·········

You’re in disbelief, staring ahead at the stranger sitting in your living room as her gaze travels between you and your parents. The woman introduced herself as an agent, flashing a shiny badge before she came inside.

Last night, you gave the cops a statement about what had happened in the parking lot. A man was out there, agitated and waiting for Brading. He shot him and looked you dead in the eyes before another man shouted for him to get down on the ground.

He drove away, tires screeching, as the officer who’d rushed out of the jail shot at the car. You remember dropping to the cold concrete, being interrogated by a detective, and eventually being ordered to go home and not tell a soul what you’d seen.

You’re still terrified, unable to accept what your life has become and how the domino effect you’ve been thrust into could be so vicious.

“Detective Brading is in critical condition,” the woman says, “but he was able to identify the man who shot him.”

“What about Rafe?” you ask. “Is he okay?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who that is.”

You sniffle your tears, shaking your head in disbelief. You still haven’t been given any updates on him.

“I’m here because the man from last night,” she continues, “is part of a family that has dangerous affiliations. Brading has a history of putting away high-profile criminals, and he arrested the shooter’s brother. His brother recently passed away in prison and… he tracked Brading down to make him pay. He’s still at large. According to your statement, he saw you, is that right?”

You nod anxiously, waiting for her to get to her point. By now, you have enough trauma to last you ten lifetimes.

Then, she tells you that for you and your parents’ safety, you’ll need to be put into witness protection and that you’ll be relocated and given new identities immediately.

When you ask what you’re supposed to say to the people you’re leaving behind, she’s eerily calm as she tells you, “Nothing. I’m sorry, but there’s no way you can contact anyone you know. Everyone will be under the impression that you’ve died.”

·········

You consumed Rafe’s thoughts as he sat in the county jail cell. He didn’t focus on how suffocating the room was, or how badly his wrists burned from the handcuffs, or what his future was going to look like.

He thought about you, how completely and deliberately you were in his corner, how all the embarrassment of being arrested in front of all those people was erased when you yelled in his defense.

The only voice in the crowd standing up for him, while everyone else watched, was yours. He has never cared about someone more than himself. You changed that.

That’s why when he receives the news that you passed away in an accident, he snaps.

next >

note sorry for the drama… now i can finally share that this inspired this part of the story 🤭

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic

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wordsmithic · 3 months ago

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unpopular opinion but with the new tide of Greek mythology stories and retellings, Greek Cultural Sensitivity Readings are absolutely necessary. We are in 2024, with thousands of fics and retellings out there!! How is this not a thing yet?? There's vast improvement one can achieve by working professionally on their text with a Greek. I've seen it so many times!!

Also, duh, I'm offering the service BUT I want you to know that the situation with the inaccuracies of SERIOUS works is so dire that initially I didn't even do it for money. As a writer I just wanted to... fix things, to set a new standard for writers and the industry that sells us the most heavily Americanized pop-culture material and passes it as "authentic vibes of Greek mythology". (And of course there were writers who wanted to do right by their story and they had reached out to me. So kudos to them as well!)

Okay, but why does Cultural Sensitivity Reading make a vast difference and it's not just smoke and mirrors?

As a Greek, I am tired of well-meaning writers and authors butchering very basic elements of my culture. It's not their fault exactly, since they were raised in another culture with a different perspective. And nobody clued them in on how different Greek culture is from theirs, so writers sometimes assume that their culture is the default and they project that into ancient Greece. (Even published professionals like Madeline Miller have written "UK or US in antiquity" (with a very colonialist flavor) instead of writing "Ancient Greece". (Looking at you, Circe!)

Even writers who researched a lot before coming to me still had a lot of misinformation or wrong information in their text, easily verifiable by the average Greek. Again, not their fault. They can only access certain information, which does not include Greek scholarly work and scientific articles that DO offer valuable context.

Translation, accuracy, and meaning: If you ever wondered what a word means or how to pronounce it, here's your chance! There are Greeks like me who are knowledgeable and have a keen interest in antiquity and they will be able to read and compare ancient texts, and dive deeper into the work of Greek scholars regarding those texts.

If you want to create new words, you can do that as well! (It doesn't always work, but we can try. Greek is a really rich language and has a word about everything) If you use existing words, I can help you separate reality from fantasy in the context of your story.

(Do not assume we Greeks are ignorant of our heritage, or that we don't know how to research! Our archaeology sector is huge and archaeological museums are closer to most of us than your local Target is to you)

I guarantee there are things you never thought about Greece and the Mediterranean - from the ancient to the modern era. Sprinkling elements like phrases, types of interactions, customs, songs, instruments, dances, etc , into your text will make your text absolutely rich in culture.

Names matter!!! The genders of the names matter, diminutives matter (If I see one more "Perse" for Persephone I will claw my eyes out along with a few thousand Greeks), naming traditions matter!!! In many cases you should not even use a diminutive!!

You will be able to write about a foreign culture easily! Because of the continuity of Greek culture, you can even write a few more recent Greek elements to fill in the gaps. I can make sure they are not mismatched, and they will complement your ancient setting. I have observed a few things I didn't know we had since antiquity, but they make sense because our land has certain characteristics.

Non-Greek writers often miss the whole context of Greek culture! Do you know how Greek respect towards deities and parents looks like? What tones we use when we talk to our elders? When to use honorific plural - if your setting is more modernized?

Oh, and please let's avoid caricatures when describing Greeks?? (even fantasy Greeks) There can be heavy exotisation and odd descriptions of Greeks, as if we are another species. Even in published works. For many western writers it's difficult to catch, unfortunately.

The whole process is actually way easier than you think. You send me a text, I make notes and then we have some discussion on your vision.

It's always okay to seek guidance from the locals! You are not "guilty" when you admit you don't know! How can you know if you don't ask?? You can't imagine what relief and "πάλι καλά!!!" I read/see from other Greeks when I tell them another foreigner is using me for cultural sensitivity? Greeks want you to seek help and will NOT shame you for it!

(On the contrary, you have no idea how many eye-rolls Greeks do when they see a blatantly wrong thing in a story... Which has happened pretty often for many years now. Can we do better as an industry?? Please???)

You can send me a personal message to share your story, or ask what this whole cultural sensitivity thing is all about, or ask about what I have done so far and how I can help. But for the love of all that's good, don't let your story be another "generic greek myth retelling"! And don't let others sell you their generic greek myth retellings!!

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nereidprinc3ss · 10 months ago

Note

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup.

“Please, stop apologizing.”

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses.

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...”

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.”

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.”

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.”

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?”

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks.

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.”

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.”

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat.

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.”

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.”

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically.

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box.

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap.

Says Spencer Reid?

“...sorry?”

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself.

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.”

He swallows and nods.

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.”

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.”

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.”

But you're not crying because he was nice.

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear.

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks.

“I meant every word.”

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say.

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.”

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending.

“Had?”

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart.

“Yeah. You know what changed?”

“What’s that?”

Absolutely nothing.

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.”

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes.

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?”

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.”

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?”

You sniff, looking to the ceiling.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.”

More silence.

“But you don’t believe it.”

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.”

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head.

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?”

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him.

“What?”

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks.

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.”

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.”

“That’s... that’s not how I know.”

Your heart drops as you study his face.

No.

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying.

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be.

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks.

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—”

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?”

With nothing left to give, you turn to him.

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks.

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.”

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible.

“You... you like me?”

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—”

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—”

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.”

“You said you used to like me, past tense—”

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?”

“No, but—”

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?”

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks.

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.”

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is.

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face.

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.”

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes.

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.”

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine.

“I do.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway.

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to.

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?”

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing.

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.”

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again.

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought.

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes.

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!”

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.”

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.”

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.”

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention.

“Spencer?”

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought.

“What does pulchritude mean?”

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair.

“Don’t worry about it.”

And so you let it float away.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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yanderecrazysie · 5 months ago

Text

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Twelve

First Chapter: here

Previous Chapter: here

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you.

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Note 2: This is the final chapter before the endings. Sorry!

—-------------------------------------------------------

The eerily flickering lights of the aquarium almost gave you pause. Strange. You stepped through the employee only entrance and pressed on the light switch. Still, the lights flickered.

“Shriiiimp!” Floyd’s telltale voice cried out from the edge of the tank, his arms crossed on the concrete and chin resting on top of them.

“Shrimp?” you laughed, “Is that what you’re calling me now?”

Floyd giggled and stared at you with lidded eyes, “Shrimp!”

“What’s up with the lights?” you asked him, gesturing to the overhead electrical issues. Floyd shrugged and slipped into the water with a breathless giggle.

You frowned, feeling a little unsettled by the way his shadow danced along the wall as the lights’ flickering became longer. You took a seat at the edge of the tank.

“Where’s Jade?” you asked.

“Right here,” his voice startled you. You swerved your head so quickly that it cricked, spotting his mismatched gaze from a few feet away. Jade’s chin was just above the surface, so that he wouldn’t get water in his mouth when he talked, “We missed you.”

“I missed you guys, too,” you said with a smile, “What’s up with the lights?”

As always, there was a cold edge to Jade’s smile, “Nothing to worry about. Electrical problem. It happens sometimes.”

You nodded, though his answer didn’t make you feel any less uneasy. “I see. Let’s hope it gets fixed soon.”

To your surprise, white hair broke the surface and piercing eyes met yours before they softened behind their spectacles. This was the first time Azul had surfaced on his own without Floyd dragging him to the surface.

“How nice of you to come,” he said, giving you a closed-eyed smile. His gaze suddenly turned serious and he seemed to size you up. “We rarely see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, Azul,” you offered with another smile. A tentacle slid out of the water and brushed against your ankle. You noticed it beginning to curl around the appendage and quickly stood up, knocking it back into the water.

You backed away from the edge, ignoring the hurt look on his face, “I should really check on the electrical system. It might not be safe if the lights are acting up like this.”

“Noooo,” Floyd wailed, his eyes gleaming with hidden mirth, “Shriiimp, stay! We miiiiss you…”

You felt something brush against your ankle again and stepped back from the edge. Black tentacles slid back into the tank. Jade smiled pleasantly at you, “There’s no rush. You can stay with us.”

“No,” you backed away from the tank, “No, I think I’m done for today.” The lights continued to flicker, staying dark for even longer, sending shadows playing across the faces of the tank’s three inhabitants, making their leering faces look even more frightening in that moment.

As the door slammed behind them, Azul turned to the twins in amusement, speaking in what sounded like clicks to the cameras above the tank, “I believe I have her measurements down.”

Floyd giggled, “Next time?”

“Next time, she’s ours.”

—---------------------------

You decided that, today, you would visit Idia before the snakes. You were much too excited to give him the gift you had brought him to wait any longer.

“Idia! I have a surprise for you!” you called out as you entered the enclosure. The lizard halfling was in the very back of the terrarium, curled up in the corner gloomily.

“What is it now?” he asked, not sounding enthusiastic in the slightest.

You handed over your old, blue Nintendo DS along with a ziploc bag filled with games. Idia’s eyes widened, “What is this?”

“It’s a handheld gaming device. You just pop the game you want to play in and open it up,” you explained happily, “It’ll eventually die but-”

“It will die?!” Idia looked horrified, “It is alive?!”

“No no no,” you quickly explained, “I just mean it’ll run out of battery, but I can always charge it again for you.”

Idia’s shoulders sagged in relief and the corners of his lips turned up in a soft smile, “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” you said, straightening up and turning to leave. To your surprise, an electric blue tail curled around your ankle. You turned to face the lizard halfling and were met with pleading eyes.

“Stay, teach me to use it,” Idia begged.

With a smile, you sat down and picked a random game out of the ziploc bag and popped it in the empty compartment. You flipped open the device and turned it on as Idia watched in awe.

—-----------------------------------

“Hey, Jamil! Hey, Kalim!” you called out, your voice echoing in the heated terrarium. Jamil lifted his head from where he was coiled, his slitted eyes lazily studying you. Kalim, on the other hand, slithered forward eagerly.

“Yay! You’re back!” Kalim cried out, his arms wrapping around your midsection and his face burying itself into your stomach. You stumbled backwards at the enthusiastic force he put into his hug but managed to stay upright.

“Jamil and I missed you. Jamil talked about you.”

You looked over at the viper halfling, who avoided eye contact. You stifled a giggle and said, “Well, I missed both of you too.”

Kalim’s face brightened, but Jamil’s expression remained guarded. There was tension in the air, something between the two that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Did you bring anything?” Kalim asked excitedly and you realized he was remembering the donuts from last time.

“I’m afraid not. I was going to bring curry but I didn’t have time to make it.”

Kalim made a disgusted face, “Why curry? Curry is gross!”

Jamil’s eyes flashed with irritation and he gave Kalim a fearsome glare, “Because that is my favorite.”

The tension between the two crackled like electricity and you quickly intervened, “I’ll bring some next time, Jamil. Kalim, can I bring you anything?”

Kalim looked puzzled as he tried to think of what you could bring. He finally smiled brightly and shrugged, “Anything but curry!”

Jamil continued to glare at his roommate as he said lowly, “Thank you, (Y/n).”

“How have you both been?” you asked.

Jamil opened his mouth to respond and was immediately cut off by Kalim, “I missed you soooooo much!”

You laughed, “I missed you too.” You looked at your watch and with a pang you realized you were running low on time already, “Have you been up to anything exciting?”

Kalim’s grin widened, “After you left, I cried. Then, I shed my skin. Then, I rested. Then…”

Kalim gave you a play-by-play of everything he had been up to since your previous visit. You watched as the seconds ticked by on your watch, fighting off boredom.

Finally, you realized you couldn’t stay any longer if you were planning to see the tigers and panthers today. You hesitantly interrupted Kalim’s droning and said, “I’m so sorry, guys, but I need to head out.”

Kalim’s eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around you once again, “Please, stay longer.”

“I can’t, Kalim. I promise I’ll be back soon,” you said, gently disentangling yourself from his grasp.

Kalim’s eyes filled with tears, “You’re always leaving! It’s not fair!”

“I know, and I’m really sorry. But I’ll make it up to you next time, okay?” you reassured him, reaching out to give his head a gentle pat.

Kalim’s sobs followed you out the door of the enclosure. You felt like a heartless monster as you closed the door, but you knew you couldn’t stay and now had to run to make it on time.

Behind the closed door, Jamil hissed at Kalim to shut up and the boy stopped crying almost immediately. Then, his eyes lit up as an idea crossed his mind…

Meanwhile, you had finally arrived at the panthers and tigers exhibit. You hurried into the exhibit and stopped dead in your tracks. To your surprise, it wasn’t just Silver and Sebek standing near the employee entrance but, for the first time, Malleus and Lilia as well.

Before you could question the sudden welcome, Lilia skipped up to you and linked his arm with yours, half-walking, half-dragging you over to the others.

“You’re late!” Sebek yelled.

“Sorry about that,” you winced at the volume of his voice and waved to the four halflings sheepishly, “How are you all?”

Lilia brought you closer to the other three and Malleus reached out and gently grasped your chin. He redirected your face to look at him and you frowned at his serious expression.

“Crowley,” Malleus said softly, “You cannot trust him. In fact, you cannot trust anyone here.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, suspicion spiking immediately. Sure, Mr. Crowley was eccentric, but to not be able to trust him? Wasn’t that going a bit far?

Malleus’s frown deepened, “He will allow anything to happen to you, if it is for the better of the zoo.”

You shook your head and let out an awkward, humorless laugh, “I don’t think that’s true…”

“A storm is coming, (Y/n),” Silver said softly.

“You can’t trust anyone,” Sebek affirmed.

“Least of all us,” Lilia said with an eerie smile.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland

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chanquokka · 5 months ago

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lee know in taste for @skzfaker <3 happy birthday!!

#we are ignoring the mismatched set bcs the performance had like 15 diff lightings and one day ill learn how to color #hope u enjoyed ur day akire <3 #userlau #usertsu #usersun #userbeepls #usersemily #melontrack #linosource #mimotag #usersa #e01o #staydaily #bystay #stray kids gifs #lee know #lee mino #staysource #jifmaking*

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blockedbykei · 5 months ago

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manager!reader x tsukki please

karasuno team making predictions about who will be the first one to become a dad in the future, not knowing it will be tsukki 🫢

say that theyre having a reunion and all of them goes 0_o after seeing readers bby bump, you could do the rest tbh😭❤️

currently living off my mobile data 🙏 tysm for this request

— little easter egg here if u see it

the boys were always eager to place bets on things unnecessary. who can spike the most balls, who can drink the most milk, who can shove the most meat in their mouth without chewing it. they always bargained a few yens or free food.

it had rubbed on you a few bets later.

in the night before sugawara, daichi, shimizu, and asahi's graduation day, the whole team had decided to have a sleepover inside the gym. the boys set up their futons on the court, while the girls stayed at the stage, futons side by side.

but you were all gathered in the middle, clad in mismatched pyjamas, snacks tossed around, dinner melted in your stomachs. you were guaranteed that this night would hold a special place in your heart– something to look back to when change begins the next day.

"who's most likely to...?" kageyama falls back, head on a pillow beside hinata's thigh, a finger on his chin. "go to jail?"

you and tsukishima point at hinata. yamaguchi points at yachi, and she, including kageyama, sugawara, daichi, and shimizu, point at tanaka. asahi points at noya, as well as narita, kinoshita, and ennoshita.

"this one gets breaking and entering," kei says. "tanaka-san gets harrassment. noya for disorderly conduct."

you laugh and lean your shoulder on his, reaching over his lap for a mochi. you feel his nose tickle the top of your head, but it was one of the few subtle public affections he only gives you that night. kei bites on your dessert, glancing at you as a small way of expressing his gratitude.

"okay," hinata throws another pack of chips on the futon, bouncing lightly. "who's most likely to become a parent in the next 10 years?"

majority seemed to point at daichi and sugawara. they both gasp.

"why us?"

"you parent all of us!"

"we wouldn't have to if you all acted like you were properly disciplined," daichi says, eating a chip from koshi's hand. you missed the way the tips of his ears blushed.

"i think tsukishima here would be a dad first," tanaka teases. he cranes his leg and kicks his shin jovially. "eh? since you're the first one here to get a girlfriend out of all of us."

your cheeks flush, burning when kei gives you a quick glance before shrugging. nonetheless you shrug, placing your hands behind you to lean back. "i think kageyama would be a dad first."

ennoshita snorts. "i caught him talking to a girl the other day."

"he peed himself," hinata quips. "he was asking for his pen back, i'm pretty sure he'd be asking for his dignity back, too."

"fuck off, dumbass."

"i bet a thousand yen on kageyama being the first one to be a dad!" noya slams his fist, rattling the snacks on the futon. tsukishima scoffs, however ignored by the others as they buzz in excitement. "anyone on tsukishima?"

"me and yachi," yamaguchi raises his hand, lifting hitoka's. hinata joins them.

"what about me?" daichi points to himself. "i could be the first one to be a dad. i'm your senior!"

"a thousand yen on daddy daichi!"

"noya, you can't switch your bet!" tanaka yells. "stick to kageyama. i'm going with sawamura-san."

they look at you. "oh, i'm not joining."

"i am," tsukishima says. "i'm on daddy kageyama." he winks.

"please don't lose this bet," hinata pleads to his setter, hands clasped. "i don't want to lose a thousand yen. keep it in your pants."

"shut up, hinata!"

later that night, when everyone had laughed their way to sleep, you and tsukishima silently snuck out the dark gymnasium and into the open night sky, walking towards the football field and laying down in the middle of it, damp grass tickling your backs.

"seriously though, who do you think would be a dad first?" you ask him, craning your neck to the side to look at him. tsukishima was already looking at you, glasses askew, his eyebrows raised just the slighest.

"kageyama wouldn't get a girl pregnant until he's forty." he jests. "me though..."

his tone is playful, the way his shoulders come up to a shrug. you wheeze out and laugh, clutching your chest, even though it made you blush deeply. he only wrinkles his nose at you, but his smile reaches to his eyes. "i doubt, kei. i think daichi would be first."

"why didn't you say it?"

"you being their answer caught me off guard!" you argue, hands in the air. "whaddya think, though? should we let them win this?"

"i'm kinda surprised they think kageyama would be the first to be a dad considering he literally eye fucks a volleyball," he pokes your cheek. "i don't want to let them win though."

you pat his head. "don't knock me up until we're 41, 'kay?"

tsukishima got you pregnant at 27.

and while you were both elated at the sight of two lines at a cheap stick, it was soon dropped at the realization that you (technically he did) had let them won one of the bets.

("keep it inside you until you're forty!"

"i can't fucking do that, smartass.")

you both hoped that they'd long forgotten the 11 year bet, that the minute they stepped through the door, everyone would gasp at the sight of your growing belly and coo at the thought of little blondes running around your home and into their arms.

much to your dismay, it was the first thing they brought up.

"a thousand yen!" hinata exclaims, his hand already out to accept their cash.

they immediately hand out their cash in his palm before scurrying up to awe at your belly, all bent to face it. you place your hands on top, tsukishima splaying his fingers protectively on your hip.

"it's so big!"

"honey, don't say that," shimizu swats tanaka on his head.

yachi takes your hand in both hers, shaking in excitement. "how far long?!"

you smile. "four months."

kageyama, with hinata under his arm, approaches you with a grin so condescending. "i'm going to bully your child to death," he tells kei.

"i'm going to bully you to death, virgin boy."

"i- i am not a virgin!"

the rest of the evening was spent gawping at your belly. you'd only allowed asahi, daichi, hinata, yachi, shimizu, and the godfather yamaguchi to touch your stomach.

(yamaguchi had fainted when kei announced he'd be the godfather).

and while everyone else were occupied at the sport playing on the tv, you rest your back on kei's chest, body between his legs, laced fingers on top of your stomach. it felt like the sleepover back then; and you're too emotionally over the edge that it sends an overwhelming tear on your eyes.

tsukishima cranes his neck to look down at you and wipes your tear, pushing your hair behind you. "why you crying, love?"

"nothing," you sniffle, snuggling deeper into him. though he seemed to have read your mind, and placed a warm kiss on your temple.

"hey," nishinoya stands up, tanned arms stretching. "i bet a thousand yen little tsukishima here is a boy."

you and tsukishima yell at him to stop.

but 8 out of 15 voted for a girl (ennoshita, sugawara, yachi, shimizu, yamaguchi, you, tsukishima)

7 of those voted for a boy and strictly told tsukishima to train him to play volleyball.

those 7 players paid outside the delivery room when tsukishima came out with a babygirl in his hands, telling everyone that she was hoshi, who had his eyes and hair, but had your smile that he loved and adored.

#haikyu x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyu fluff #haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #kei tsukishima #tsukishima haikyu

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kooktrash · 2 years ago

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DITTO ➢ jeon jungkook

summary: you’ve got everything you need right now, amazing boyfriend, amazing job, amazing friends, but when you receive life changing news you’re not sure how to bring it up to your boyfriend. your indecisiveness and failure to be open with him puts a huge toll on your relationship and he just wants to know that if he continues to love and walk the same path as you, you’ll do the same and ditto.

➢ established relationship [angst] boyf! jk x girlfriend!y/n [she/her. female anatomy]

➢ 12.9k words

warnings: teaser. soft boyfriend jk but relationship issues. smut. angst. fluff. separation anxiety. bath sèx. unprotected. oral (f and m). rough but sensual sèx. doggy. reverse côwgirl. y/n has trouble making decisions. heavy makeout. jk is literally perfect idk. not a break up story but they do take a break. dog parents. happy ending. [not a pregnancy fic] [haply ending]

song inspo: wasted affairs — minds eye , ditto — newjeans , still with you — jungkook , another (demo) one #2 — mac demarco

*interact to boost story if you like it!!! greatly appreciated <3*

It started on campus, exactly a year and ten months since the two of you started dating. You didn’t even talk that first day past a quick apology for bumping into each other before carrying on with your lives. A couple days later you found him on a dating app, he was attractive but that’s not why you swiped right on him. If anything you thought he was out of your league, the only reason you swiped right was to see if he had done the same. Imagine your surprise when you matched instantly and later on that night he sends you some cheesy joke that probably worked on all the girls he sent it to. You remember being thoroughly unimpressed and you told him so too.

He was just supposed to be one of those guys you talk to while you’re bored and then ghost when they try to meet up. It just didn’t go as planned when you saw him on campus a couple days later and he didn’t shy away from approaching you, practically following you to the bus stop and everything.

You don’t know how it happened but somewhere between going out for drinks on your first date to sharing the same laundry hamper, you realized you really love this kid. You were practically inseparable after that first date and although you haven’t been dating long, you hate being apart. It’s not even a crazy obsessive, ignore everyone else sort of way—it’s more that you just genuinely enjoy each other's company all the time. You don’t even have to talk or look at each other, just knowing you’re there is what makes a difference.

Now this doesn’t mean you haven’t gone without seeing others since you started dating. You did live separately at first and after graduating, Jungkook did a two month apprenticeship back in Busan so you couldn’t be together then either. Yes, he was coming down practically every weekend and calling or texting you throughout the day, even delivering food to your place from an entirely different city, but you had still been apart. It just feels better to be together entirely, y’know?

“What?” Jungkook asked with a little smile as he watched you squirm. You sat on the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal that matched his. You were in a loose top and his boxers, your hair was pinned back but still messy. Your breath was still nasty from sleep and you had mismatched socks on, yet this is his favorite side to see of you. The chance to see each other in such a way felt oddly domestic. It didn’t feel like you were just his college sweetheart—it felt like you were his lifelong partner. Now you’re looking at him with this smile on your face as he stuffs his face with Lucky Charms and he just has to know what’s up.

“Nothing,” you said as you dug around in your bowl, “I was just wondering what we’re doing today.”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook said as he placed his bowl in the sink waiting to see if you were done too and when you passed him your bowl he began washing them, “But we agreed to go to Joon’s place later for grilling.”

“Let’s do something you want to do till then, last weekend was my turn,” you told them as you hopped off the counter. You could see the corners of his lips turn upward in a side smirk making your eyes narrow. He looked over at you.

“I mean… if you really want to do what I want, I don’t think we’ll be leaving home at all,” he said with a wink that made you roll your eyes.

“Last night wasn’t enough? I’m sore,” you said as you picked up the mail from the tray and began to sort it, looking for coupons or something. He watched you separate it into a pile for him and then a pile for you.

“Never enough, I’ve got the stamina of a rabbit,” Jungkook said, lifting an arm to flex his bicep. You laughed lightly, “How manly.”

“Okay, okay, we need to get groceries today, I’m out of my protein,” Jungkook said more seriously, “We could probably get lunch, take Bam on a walk, it’s super nice out today.”

“Then Joon’s tonight?” You asked for confirmation and he nodded. When he finished washing he came over to where you were. His hands found your waist and immediately pulled you into his front. You whine when you hit his hard chest but your arms make their way around his neck anyway. He smiled down at you, “I love you.”

“Ditto,” You smiled leaning forward to kiss him but he tilted his head back, “Come on baby, I wanna hear you say it. I know you love me too.”

“Jungkook…” you said, still smiling. You felt this gross kind of love for the guy. You know the kind where you’re looking at them doing the most basic thing ever yet in your mind it’s like, ‘damn, I really love them’, then you cringe because why would you be so vulnerable to even think that? Yeah, that kind of love, it’s still hard to say it sometimes.

“I love you too,” you told him almost shyly and then he began to squeeze you in his embrace. You groaned at the tightness until his lips were on yours. It was short and sweet, just a quick moment of affection before you were pulling back. He released a light chuckle, “Your breath stinks.”

You scoffed, “You think yours smells any better?”

“I do actually,” he smirked as he let you pull away from his hold, “It smells like your pus—“

“Go shower!” You said making him laugh as he went to do that and left you alone in the kitchen. Normally you would join him but you had other things to worry about at the moment and you didn’t need Jungkook around for it.

You went into the living room, opened your laptop and checked your emails. You went to school for journalism and you’ve spent over a year interning at a well known editorial company. They specialized in digital news but they had a few actual magazines out, it was a global company and Jungkook had been so excited when you got the internship. He went as far as throwing a little party for you with all your friends.

Today is the day you’ll get an email telling you if you landed one of the open positions in the company, there were too many interns and too few openings so you’ve been stressing about it lately. You’ve yet to tell Jungkook but only because you’ll feel like you’re letting him down if you don’t get it. Your heart was beating out of your chest when you clicked on the right email thread and read it to yourself.

Jungkook was very confused in the beginning. One would say he was a player all throughout high school and the start of college. His longest relationship before you was a mere six months and he wasn’t mature during it. When you came along he thought that maybe it would just be a little fling before the two of you moved on, but the more he talked to you the more he realized neither one of you was going anywhere. Now, he understands that you haven’t even been together for two years but he can easily say that you’re the one, you just get him.

Sure, you argue here and there but you don’t hurt each other. Your communication is amazing, like that of a married couple that has been together for over a decade, and there’s just no stress with you. He knows what to do when you’re upset or how to make your eggs in the morning. You know when he’s running low on multivitamins and you make the calls for Bam’s vet appointments. Sometimes Jungkook even thinks Bam likes his mom, aka you, more than his dad. That’s that Jungkook has had him longer than he’s been dating you. Overall, you just fit into his life like the missing puzzle piece that completed him.

“Come on Bam, we gotta go inside,” you said later on in the day. You and Jungkook just came back from taking him on a walk at Han River and he was way too energized. You were already running a little late and you still had to feed him. Jungkook brought him over easily and the three of you went up like the little family you are. Jungkook watched you lovingly as you filled Bam’s dog bowl and got him water before washing your hands.

“Ready?” Jungkook asked you as he stood at the door with the keys. You nodded, looking around to double check everything was right before the two of you left for the evening.

Everyone was at Namjoon’s place before you two and his backyard smelt like grilled meat and a bonfire. Lawn chairs were spread throughout and there were two coolers of beer. You grabbed one for you and Jungkook and he pulled you onto his lap in one of the chairs.

“No, listen, I’m right,” Taehyung said as he talked with his hands. You looked over at the girl to your right, “What’s he going on about?”

“Oh you missed it, him and Hobi have spent about ten minutes arguing over which soda is better,” Yuna said with a little laugh looking just as amused as you, “So far Hoseok’s winning with a fair argument for Sprite.”

“Mountain Dew is better,” Jungkook cut in with a mischievous grin as the other two turned to glare at him and point their anger in his direction. You tried to smile as you leaned back into his chest. His hands were around your waist resting on your thighs, pressing his chin against your shoulder.

Yuna was Hoseok’s girlfriend and the closest friend you had out of everyone. You met her after she started dating him but you quickly befriended each other through mutual interests. Aside from Jungkook, she probably knew you better than any of the others—even your own personal friends. You’re not sure if you were being obvious about it or if Yuna had been wondering this all along but she knew some sort of news came.

“Come with me to the kitchen,” Yuna said as she stood up, “I brought dessert but I need help carrying it out.”

Without question you nodded and Jungkook released you from his hold so he could have a better debate over fizzy drinks with the others. The two of you headed inside Namjoon’s house and once you were alone in the kitchen, the questions began.

“So?”

“So?” You asked as you looked around for this dessert. Yuna crossed her arms over her chest, “Have you heard from the job?”

“Oh um,” you cleared your throat feeling a lump form as you looked back to see if Jungkook was still where you left him. He was sitting in the chair with a huge smile on his face as he tipped back his beer for another drink. “I got the job.”

Yuna gasped loudly as she grinned, excited now, “That’s great! Oh my god I’m so happy for you, what did Jungkook say? Are you guys doing anything to celebrate?” Her smile dropped, “Why don’t you look happy about it?”

You didn’t say anything, feeling your eyes begin to water and you had to step further into the kitchen so the others wouldn’t see you. Yuna followed you watching as you nearly broke down crying. She panicked, letting go of her drink to get close to you, “What’s wrong? You got the job… that’s great. It’s what you’ve wanted for a long time now an—“

“It’s abroad,” you finally said, “Like thousands of miles away and it’s not short term, it’s forever. The pay is great and I would get a high position but… but…”

“Have you told Jungkook? I’m sure you’ll work it out, I swear the guy would follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to,” Yuna tried lightening the mood, “Didn’t he write that cheesy song about walking the same path as you? He’ll be happy to go with you.”

“I can’t ask him to,” you admitted as you tried wiping away the tears, “He’s already put the down payment for the studio, all his clientele is here. His friends are here, his family is here. I can’t ask him to pack it all up and go with me. We’re not married, we’ve only been together for a little over a year. It would be selfish of me.”

Yuna looked at you with sincere sympathy, “So what are you going to do? Are you taking the job? It’s what you’ve wanted…”

“I know,” you sniffled as tears kept falling, “But I don’t know.”

“Aish! I heard you! Paper plates and napkins, I’m going!”

Jungkook’s voice was heard clear as day and just so happy as he closed the sliding glass door behind him. He was tasked with the job of bringing out silverware since you were inside and he was asking for you. They all told him to come in and find you, and bring back plates for them while he was at it. That’s why he came in with a huge smile on his face, “Babe?”

Yuna’s bewildered eyes matched yours and you turned to face the sink acting like you were busy as you forced yourself to stop being so emotional. Jungkook’s feet dragged on the floor as he came over spotting Yuna first. When his eyes landed on you he felt his heart leap, “There you are—“

He stopped himself when you refused to look back at him. It’s like he could sense that something wasn’t right. He shifted his gaze to Yuna, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh um,” Yuna looked at you and you couldn’t let her say anything, so you turned around facing him with your reddened eyes and puffy nose. Instantly Jungkook came to you, cupping your face softly, “Hey, hey, what happened?”

You tried to smile, “Nothin—“ “Don’t tell me it’s nothing, what’s wrong?” His voice was a soft whisper, immediately going into protective boyfriend mode, “Do you want to go home because we can leave right now.”

“I’m fine, I swear, I’m just… stressed,” you told him and it was obvious he didn’t fully believe it but he didn’t want to push it either.

“Jungkook! The plates!”

“Get your own damn plates! I’m busy!” He shouted back almost aggressively and Yuna took that as her cue to leave you two alone—even though you wished she didn’t.

“I’ll take them the plates,” Yuna said, using it as an excuse to leave and Jungkook didn’t even look in her direction as she left. His focus was solely on his girlfriend and why you looked so sad right now.

“Baby, talk to me,” he had a sad pout on his face, “Please? You were fine in the morning and I don’t know, yeah a little quiet around lunch but then we took Bam out and you were happy, so what happened?

“Did Yuna tell you something?” His jaw was clenched. He knew Yuna would never say anything to upset you but his protective side was coming out and all he knows is that you’re crying and Yuna was the only one with you. You shook your head, “No, no, I’m just stressed you know, um, about work.”

His brows furrowed like he didn’t fully believe you before trying to relax his expression, “Work? Is it because of the opening? I know you’ll get it, there’s nothing to worry about. You work your ass off and they’d be stupid not to give it to you, so please don’t cry—you’ll make me cry. You wanna see me cry?”

You laughed with a small sniffle, “It’s okay, I was just worked up but I’m fine now, let’s go back out.”

“You sure?” He asked wiping away the last year from your eye with the pad of his thumb, “We could go home, watch a movie. Oh, we can try on those new face masks, Bam loves them too—wanna know why? Because his mommy makes sure it’s on right and he gets his nails painted in the process. You’ve made him high maintenance, y’know?”

He’s trying to brighten your mood and it was working because you were laughing.

♱

It was a quiet night yet he couldn’t fall asleep. The room was dark and the air was on, his girlfriend slept peacefully next to him and yet he couldn’t go back to sleep. He slept for about two hours before he woke up. He’s just had a lot on his mind these last couple of days and he just can’t seem to figure out what is happening. He stared up in thought feeling his arm grow numb from having it under you.

Unable to clear his head, he made the decision to move his arm out from under you so he could stand up. As quiet as he could, he left the bedroom and went straight to the kitchen pouring himself a glass of water.

You seemed different these last couple days. From the moment he picks you up from work to the moment the two of you go to bed. It's not that you seemed ill or anything but you did seem stressed about something and no matter what he does to make you feel better it’s not working. He knows it’s probably about work but he had absolutely no doubt that you’ll get the job so he doesn’t want you stressing over it.

He wishes you would just talk to him. He doesn't need you to rely on him because he knows you wouldn't, but he'd like for you to realize he's here for you. If it was about work he hopes it all gets settled soon. If it was about him he's not sure what he'd do.

In reality, there's absolutely no reason for you to be upset with him. The two of you have a healthy relationship and it's no question that you deeply care for each other. He loved you so much, and you love him just as much so why can't you just confide in him?

"Jungkook?"

Oh. He was still in the dark kitchen grasping his half empty glass. He looked to the bedroom where you must've noticed he was missing. Shaking his previous thoughts away he finished up his water letting his glass sit on the counter. With a stretch of his arms toward the ceiling and a small yawn he was walking back to the room. He could barely make out your figure but he could see the way you were turned to face the door.

He quietly climbed back into bed feeling you shift a little as you mumbled, "Where'd you go?"

"To get water, come here, let's go back to sleep," he whispered back to you as he tucked himself in next to you. He went to pull you into his arms but you turned the other way instead. He could practically feel the distance you were putting in the middle and just like that all the thoughts were racing back to him. So were you stressed because of him?

"You can't sleep?" You asked drowsily, he nodded knowing you couldn't see him before rasping out an answer, "No."

It went quiet between you two as he continued to stare at the ceiling unable to get tired. You were already half asleep but you could tell he was struggling tonight. Without much debate you turned on your other side to face him and moved closer. His eyes shifted down as you began to snuggle into him and he was quick to turn on his side too. The two of you met halfway and your limbs locked with his while he hugged you to sleep.

He looked at your closed eyes, feeling the way your breathing evened out in relaxation while in his arms. It was so late and you probably had to work early and yet here he was troubling you by being awake.

"Jungkook," you whispered, your voice a little raspy too. He looked down at you, "Hm?"

"Go to sleep," you muttered under your breath. He sighed, "I'll just go to the living room and watch some tv until I can sleep. I know you've got work early."

He didn't give you much time to process what he was saying before he was getting up and leaving. You laid in bed, eyes opening a little watching him leave. You were left alone in your shared bedroom and the guilt was just eating at you. You knew you were being distant but you just have no idea how to even bring up the news about work. You don’t know how he’ll take it, but you do know you don’t want to leave him and make him think he’s the one doing something wrong.

You were sitting up now, yanking the covers off as you padded across the hardwood floor out the door. Jungkook was laying down on the L shaped couch watching a movie on a low volume. His phone lay on his chest, an arm tucked behind his chest and the other on the remote.

He looked over to the bedroom door when he heard it open. His eyes were big and rounded, innocent looking as you shuffled over to where he was. He didn't question it when you were sitting on the edge of the couch moving to lay over him. He welcomed you with an arm around your waist as you snuggled into his chest. He reached out for the remote, lowering the volume all the way as you let your eyes shut. A small smile appeared on his face as he made himself comfortable on the couch to fall asleep.

"Y/n's just, I don't know, distant?" Jungkook huffed, he raised the dumbbell with the help of Hoseok spotting him. "I feel like something's wrong. I can't tell if it's something I did or what and it's driving me crazy."

Since this morning he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about this. What if he was the problem? Why else would you be acting like this?

He finished a set with a puff of his chest trying to catch his breath as he was standing up. Hoseok took his spot, "Did you forget a birthday? Dinner? Anniversary?"

Jungkook shook his head no as Hoseok began his set, "Are you crazy? I would never forget any of that stuff, if I did Y/n would kill me.”

"Maybe she's not even upset, maybe Y/n's just stressed or tired," Hoseok huffed, "Try and give her time to talk, you know she doesn’t keep secrets from you. Maybe she’s just trying to figure out how to bring it up so just give her space.”

"I can't," Jungkook shook his head, "If I do she’ll never open up to me, trust me. Y/n’s not the vulnerable type.”

It's true. Jungkook knew you all too well. Since the beginning he had to be the one initiating any contact. He never understood why you doubted yourself but you never made the first move, not even when Jungkook had very specifically informed you he liked you. You're always worried you'll come off too clingy and you just don't get that it's what Jungkook wants. He’s way more affectionate than you and it does not mean you’re not like that with him but he’s way more open about his feelings than you—always has been.

"Then I don’t know what to say man, Yuna is an open book, she’ll tell me anything," Hoseok stood now next to Jungkook as they both took a small break. They were practically done for the day anyway so they left to the men's locker room. Jungkook bit his lip nervously, "Has she told you anything about Y/n? They were together at Joon’s when Y/n was crying. You think you can see if she knows anything?”

“I’ll try,” Hoseok said as he reached into his locker for his gym bag, “How’s the studio looking?”

Jungkook appreciated the attempt to change the subject and went on to talk about it, “Great. All the new equipment came in and I’ve already got some clients registered for CrossFit training. Thankfully since it was an old gym I didn’t have to make much changes on it.”

“That’s great man,” Hoseok said with a warm smile, “See if Y/n can do an article about it in the magazine.”

"Nah, she’s stressed, I don’t want to give her more work especially if she had to run it by her bosses first," Jungkook tells him as he takes his helmet and tucks in his underarm. It was a nice enough day for him to ride his motorcycle today and since he isn’t picking you up from work he can ride around a bit and try to clear his mind.

"True," Hoseok told him as they exited the large gym. Jungkook walked over to his motorcycle, a slick black with polished silver detail. Harley Davidson plastered on the side. His helmet was black too, it matched the silver with a chrome reflection and it fit him perfectly. You got it for him over Christmas.

"So you’ll ask Yuna then?" Jungkook asked honestly.

"I’ll see what she knows," Hoseok told him as he walked to his car, “Get Y/n flowers, that might cheer her up.”

Jungkook sat comfortably on his ride as he put his helmet on. He nodded, waving the man away as he turned the key for the ignition. Without wasting another minute he was walking his bike back before taking off out of the parking garage.

Once he was at his apartment he jumped in the shower, music blaring as he tried getting ready to work. It’s his last week of teaching classes at his local gym before he can put all his focus on his own business. He’s had a lot on his plate too.

Hoseok got to his place a while later, his girlfriend was already home watching tv in their living room when he came in, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said tilting her chin up as he planted a kiss on her cheek in greeting. Her nose scrunched, “Go shower.”

“I will in a sec,” Hoseok said, checking his phone to see if Jungkook has texted him yet.

“How was the gym?” Yuna asked him, making him release a sigh.

“It was good, Jungkook was just… I don’t know, he’s worried,” Hoseok said looking over at her, “About Y/n.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, choosing instead to stare blankly ahead at the screen. He cleared his throat, already able to tell something was going on, “You know anything? Why Y/n’s been acting differently? He said you were with her when he found her crying.”

“Babe, it’s not my place—“ “Come on, I’m not going to tell him if it’s bad, I just… is Y/n breaking up with him?” Hoseok asked, “I just want to know. You know Jungkook and Y/n are inseparable and if she dumps him I genuinely don’t know how he’ll take it.”

Yuna bit her lip nervously, “She’s not dumping him… but, um,” she knew she should tell him but he’s her boyfriend. He knows she knows what’s going on and if she doesn’t say something she’ll risk having an argument over secrets.

“You know how Y/n’s been working hard to get a permanent position in the magazine?” Yuna went on to say. Hoseok nodded as he tried to smile but he couldn’t, “She didn’t get it? I mean, it’s okay, I know it’s probably hard but it’s not something she should keep fro—“

“Y/n got the job,” Yuna said seriously watching Hobi’s face brighten before she could go on, “Just not here.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a permanent relocation with a high salary,” Yuna told him, “It’s not here and she’s got about two months to accept or reject the offer.”

“Oh,” Hoseok said. He didn’t know how to feel at the moment. Y/n was a good friend of his because of Jungkook. He was there to celebrate your internship and they all had been anticipating you getting this position. It was all the two ever talked about. On one hand he’s happy, you’ve worked hard for your job and this is something you went to school for. You deserve it.

On the other hand, he’s thinking about Jungkook. The kid has been one of his closest friends for years now. He’s seen him change through time and it was for the better when you came along. Everyone knows the relationship hasn’t been too long but, the way Hoseok sees it… Y/n is just right for him. They ground each other, they’re stable and they hold a lot of love for one and other. Jungkook quit getting wasted every night, passed out at some party never remembering where he was. He cleaned up his act when you came along and graduated with a Business degree and now he’s on his way to become an owner of his own training gym. Everyone knows you’re the one who was supporting him along the way and in Hoseok’s eyes it doesn’t matter how long two people have been together to know if they’re the one for each other.

That’s why he’s at a loss for words right now. Jungkook has asked him to see if Yuna knows what was going on and now that he knows he’s not sure what to tell his friend. It’s not like he could just say, ‘Oh yeah, the thing is, Y/n did get the job but she’ll have to relocate permanently if she accepts it but you just got your studio so that’s probably why she hasn’t said anything to you—and really no one knows what this means for you two and your relationship.’

“What do I tell him when he asks me about what you know?” Hoseok asked his girlfriend who only shrugged.

“I don’t know, just… don’t bring up Y/n’s job,” Yuna told him, “It’s better if nobody does.”

♱

That’s how the game began. Well, it wasn’t necessarily a fun game, it was more so a ‘How to keep Jungkook from knowing what was wrong until Y/n can tell him on her own?’

Hoseok had to let the others know. It wasn’t his intention to spread it around like gossip but after hearing Taehyung ask Jungkook if Y/n was still waiting to hear back about the position and making him go on a rant about how his girlfriend is too stressed to even speak to him, Hoseok had to say something to them.

Of course it made Yuna feel guilty because you trusted her to keep it between you two and she couldn’t—but you didn’t know any of this.

“Babe?” You called out to him as you got home late one evening. You looked around an empty house wondering if he was even home but his keys and shoes were at the entrance so he had to be.

“In the bathroom!” He shouted back and you left in the direction of your bedroom immediately. The door to the master was open and you went in to watch him begin to run a bath. He looked over at you, “Just got off?”

“Yeah,” you said with a small sigh as you leaned against the sink counter, “Mind if I join you?”

He smiled as he came over to where you were and placed his hands on your waist, fingers already gripping at the hem of your shirt, “Wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“Should we call Bam and make it a spa day?” Jungkook asked as he let you undress and went into the warm bubble bath. You shook your head, “He’ll make a mess.”

Jungkook didn’t argue with that as you came in after him and he immediately pulled you into his chest so your back was against him. His fingers tickled at your sides making you turn to mush in his arms till you relaxed against him. You rolled your eyes at his attack on you but you were smiling. Jungkook was happy to just get that from you. You let him pour water along your back and front before dropping some in your hair. You turned just enough to do the same to him and he let you run water through his hair. He’s not sure if you’re feeling better or not but he always enjoys time he gets to spend with you.

“So I need your help this weekend, I thought about it and I think I’m actually gonna paint the walls at the studio,” Jungkook began a casual conversation with you as you began to wash his hair with shampoo as he lathered your body in body wash. You nodded, “Okay, what color?”

“I want to do them white but with a black accent wall, probably chalk paint or something? I don’t know, then you can help me with calligraphy and it could be like my schedule wall, just an idea though,” Jungkook said, “I think I’m just getting excited.”

Your heart stopped for a short moment. You were hoping tonight would be the night you finally talk to him about work. You want to take the position but at the same time you want to turn it down. It’s such a good opportunity for you in the long run but right now you’re dating Jungkook. You don’t know how long your relationship will last since you’re still in your twenties and haven’t dated long, but he makes you want to stay. You just feel conflicted.

You tried to smile, “I like it, it’s going to look so good.”

Jungkook let the subject go as he washed your back, “I love you.”

“Ditto,” you laughed when he planted a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“I love you,” he placed a kiss on your neck, hands caressing your soapy arms.

You smiled, “I love you.” His hand traveled from your arm to your shoulder before making it to your chin and turning your head to face him. You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his and he released a low hum.

The kiss deepened further as did your back against his chest. The hand Jungkook used to turn your face toward him was traveling down your neck making you wiggle a little between his legs. With that small action and the fact that the kiss turned more hungry, he was releasing a quiet growl that rumbled through his chest. Your mouths parted at the same time but neither one of you moved back before going back in for a needy tongue kiss.

Jungkook didn’t need much convincing to let his hands roam your body, first cupping your breasts. A hand of yours had made it to the back of his neck clinging to him as he kissed down your neck, sucking harshly and licking away the pain.

“Baby,” you whined softly into his ear as his middle fingers and thumbs pinched the buds of your nipples so that he could run his index finger over them. You couldn’t stay still and by the hardening length along your back you knew your movements were affecting your boyfriend. He massaged your tits in his hands, squeezing them together and pulling them apart doing it over and over again as you fell full lax against his shoulder.

“You think I can still feel your dripping pussy in the water, baby?” Jungkook asked, tracing the finger that left your nipple numb with arousal down your navel and closer to your pelvis. You nodded against him and with a knowing smirk, he let his hand feel the water further as he slipped the hand between your legs and right over your cunt.

Jungkook groaned into your mouth as he swallowed your moans in a kiss. Of course everything felt different underwater but there was no denying the sticky slick pooling between your folds. He dipped his long middle finger between the wetness, immediately eliciting a quiet whine from your pretty lips. You tightened your hold on the back of his head, fingers sinking into his hair pulling him down deeper for the kiss.

He knew everything about your body and just how to make it react, like when he let the palm of his hand roll into your clit when his finger came out before plunging it back into your entrance and releasing pressure from his palm. The only sounds that filled the room were of the splashing water and your moans while Jungkook fingered you. Your other hand clung to his forearm, thighs threatening to shut at the immense pleasure he was giving you.

“Nuh uh,” he tsked in your ear as he sped up his finger, teasing the folds with his ring finger before making room inside your cunt for two fingers that hooked forward and back, “Don’t you dare close your legs.”

“Jungkook, please,” your legs were shaking as you bucked up into his hands and pressed into his hard cock forcing moan after moan from him as well. You could feel the rumble in his chest against your back and you just wanted to melt into him.

You and Jungkook had a very active sex life and it’s clear that these last couple of weeks you’ve both grown distant through time but it feels so good right now.

He traced his finger tips down your sides trying to turn to face him better. You moved onto your knees letting Jungkook help you hook them over his lap so you could be pressed against him better. Your hand was on his firm and wet chest as you traced it toward his neck before bringing him in for a kiss. His fingers were soft down your back until need became of him. They tightened in the locks of your hair using his hand to feel along your front.

“Is this why you wanted to bathe together tonight?” He asked as he continued to press against that soft spot inside your wet cunt that made your legs shake. It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but you couldn’t even remember what you actually wanted to say now that he was bringing you to release with only two fingers.

“Fuck,” you moaned out letting your hips rut against his cock, “Me, oh god I need to feel you baby.”

Jungkook used his free hand to grope at your breasts but it quickly slid down to your navel pushing you back and forth grinding against his hard length. He was releasing short grunts into your ear, “Up.”

Your feet pressed flatly against the floor as he slipped his fingers out of your wet pussy to guide your hips up for you. You held onto the edge of the tub to hold yourself up as Jungkook moved a hand down to his dick giving it a couple strokes as he pointed it up. He slid down just a little more for better room and just like that you were sinking down onto his hard length raw.

“Oh,” Jungkook released a low groan, “Baby.”

He licked his dry lips watching the way you took him inside. The water was still filled with water and bubbles but he was able to see enough of your cute butt. Jungkook’s abs tensed so much that it was visible and flexed which made him look even hotter than usual. He begins to raise your hips feeling the warmth your pussy brought to his stiff cock.

Jungkook began to meet your thrusts with a buck of his hips and just like that did he begin to fuck you.

He leaned forward to leave wet and sloppy kisses along the back of your shoulder blade down to the way it flared along your back, moving his hands to grip your waist harshly. Jungkook's nail dug into your soft flesh as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock, “Take me so well, baby.”

He bit into his lip, watching in awe at the way your hips gained more determined rhythm to get him off, he could see glimpses of your spine following your movements. Your hands nearly slipped off of the edge of the bed coming very close to falling face first into the water but it didn’t stop you from saying, "I'm gonna cum."

He released a short grunt as he pushed himself up so that he could stand on a leg and knee, "Grab the edge." You did as told, reaching for one side and holding onto it pressing your chest into the side of the tub and Jungkook placed a flat palm against your lower back. You’ll both be sore from being crammed in the tub but it’s not like this is the first time. He bit into his bottom lip to suppress a loud moan from slipping out as felt your familiar ring of nerves clenching around his member as it sucked him into your folds. He wasn't going to last much longer either so he’s gotten rougher.

He was pounding into you from behind so good that he needed to drop his weight on your. His wet body pressed against you, cold water droplets falling onto your back making you twitch in surprise.

His hand snuck under your stomach to hold you close as you felt his face press into your back as he moaned, “Fuck, baby, so fucking good.

“You make me feel so good,” he repeated, “Cum, fuck, please cum baby, I—I—ngh.”

He made his body flex from how hard he was tensing up to keep himself from spilling inside of you as you came around his cock.

“Jungkook, baby,” you whined, body trembling as Jungkook kept you pressed against him as you rode your high.

When you came down you began to shiver. The water was cold and so were you, plus you were ultra sensitive so it was unbearable. Jungkook could feel the way you trembled and he was trying to keep himself warm, at least his cock warm, but he began to pull out. He rather get you two dressed and not freezing before he finishes himself off.

He could ignore his hard on even as it twitched against his navel as he stood making sure to pull him with you. You slipped on your thin bathrobe letting him do the same and with a chaste kiss on the lips he walked with you out to your bedroom.

“Jungkook,” you called out to him just as he tried leaving to his closet. He turned to you waiting patiently for you to say something but you just walked toward him in your little robe that hid absolutely nothing from his lustful gaze.

You stood so close to him now and before he could what was up your hand was pulling at the tie around his waist. He let you open his robe exposing the hard cock that had just fucked you to orgasm. He didn’t even bother looking down at it, keeping his eyes on you as you have him a couple experimental strokes, his mouth drawn open in a silent, desperate moan that had him panting.

“Don’t you want me to make you cum?" You asked as you kissed down his chest toward his dick. Jungkook looked blissed out with his eyes rolled up, lips parted and his entire face just looking relaxed, “Fuck, yes baby, make me cum, fuck, I need it.”

You bring your face closer to his tip, licking it teasingly, tasting the bead of precum on your tongue. In one swift movement, you flatten your tongue on the underside of his cock, a teasing longs swipe from his balls to his tip. You stopped at the head letting spit pool in your mouth and onto his cock keeping your eyes on his as he watched you swallow more of his length into your mouth.

Jungkook gripped the corner of your vanity table for support as you sucked his stiff cock to your heart’s content. You held the base of his cock with one hand, bobbing your head in a quick pace since he was already so close from fucking you just moments ago. Jungkook watches the way his cock disappears into your mouth, the feeling of your mouth, your hands working other areas. He could feel the way you tried to breathe through your nose and relax your throat, slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth. You took steady breaths through your nose doing your best to relax your throat and flatten your tongue. Jungkook panted lightly, feeling the throb of his cock as his tip hit the back of your throat.

You roughly swallow around him, suppressing a gag as you resume to deep throat him.

"That’s it baby," he groaned, tossing his head back in bliss. Moans were pouring out of his mouth, his groan is muffled into his hand, "Just like that."

Just like that, he released a low growl as your mouth flooded with his thick release. His mouth hung open, hips almost locking from how hard his muscles flexed. Your kisses became tender as you jerked off his wet cock, making sure he got it all out after a week or two of no sex. You placed a sweet kiss on his hip bone as it protruded before you, making him release a breath laugh at your form of comforting him.

He let his hand fall into your hair softly cupping your chin to help you up as he stared at you with loving eyes, “You’re so good to me.”

You didn’t say anything as you pressed your face into his chest for a hug so he wouldn’t see the hurt in your eyes.

If you could just get the courage to tell him.

♱

Jungkook was happy, he really was. Life was just good at the moment. His business is really starting to come together, his girlfriend is supportive, his friends are wonderful. He’s just a happy guy.

“The Prince has arrived!” Jimin shouted in his usual eccentric manner as he stormed into Taehyung’s place with a huge grin on his face. Jungkook was caught stuffing his face with ramen as the guy walked in greeting everyone.

“How was the flight?” Jungkook asked as he finished chewing and swallowed. Jimin had been gone for a couple weeks on some dance tour but he just got back yesterday. Everyone met up together today to see him. Jimin came by and did the usual male handshake, “Long, I slept like fourteen hours when I got home.”

“Grab a bowl, we’re having ramen,” Taehyung said as he plopped down on his couch, “Beer in the fridge.”

“Wow, a meal for a king,” Jimin said as he left to the kitchen.

“Didn’t he say he was a Prince?” Namjoon asked Jin who just shrugged in response.

y/n: just got home

jungkook: do you want me to pick u up? jimins here

y/n: that’s ok, I’m just gonna hang with bam

jungkook: ok :( love you

y/n: love you too <3

“So,” Jimin came back a little later and took a seat next to Jungkook, “When can I stop by the studio?”

“Give it a couple days and then you can,” Jungkook said as he set his bowl down on the coffee table, “Y/n and I just painted the walls this past weekend and it smells like paint—gives me a headache every time I go in.”

Jimin smiled, “It’s cool that you and Y/n are still going to pursue your own things.”

Both Jungkook and Jimin missed the way the others shared a similar glance. Jungkook’s brows furrowed for a second before answering, “Yeah, I mean, what else would we do? We’ve got to find a way to support each other, yknow?”

“You’re right,” Hoseok cut in quickly, “You support each other well for everything.”

Jimin was missing the cues being sent to him by the others. In his defense, he’s been gone for a while. All Jin told him was that you got that job offer but to not bring it up to Jungkook, but that was days ago! And would Jungkook be talking about his studio if he was planning on moving with you? No. So, he honestly thought the guy knew and you two were working it out.

“Yeah, I don’t think I could handle taking the news well,” Jimin went on, once again not understanding why everyone was looking at him with glares in their eyes, “I mean, if my girlfriend was thinking about moving across the world for a job, I wouldn’t take it well. I think I’d probably—“

“Y/n’s not moving,” Jungkook said with a small laugh, still missing the truth, “She hasn’t heard back about the offer yet but it’s here.”

The room fell silent.

Jungkook looked at them all, confusion crossing his features. Now he could sense it, he could sense something was going on around him and he had no idea about it. Why would Jimin assume you would need to relocate? Everyone looked at him with this sort of look in their eyes that began to make him wary. He released a small, cautious laugh, “Why would you think she’s moving?”

Jimin dropped his head realizing his mistake and now understanding why everyone was sending him those looks. Hoseok cleared his throat, “Jimin was just talking, you know how he is…”

“Yeah, yeah, I um, I don’t know why I said that, just ignore me.”

“No,” Jungkook shook his head, feeling something build up in his chest. It was a mix of concern and maybe anger? What were they talking about, “I want to know what you meant.”

He released a nervous laugh, “Y/n’s not—she hasn’t told me—she got the offer?”

“Jungkook…” Namjoon cut in, “It’s not up to us to say anyt—hey!”

Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore. He was looking for his keys so he could go home. What are they talking about?

You were in your bedroom with Bam. He was laying perfectly still on your lap as you played some movie in the background while brushing his teeth. You haven’t had dinner yet since you were waiting for Jungkook and you’re sure that even though he had ramen, he would still be hungry.

Todays the day you’ll tell him since last time ended in sex. You’ll get him nice and relaxed before bringing up the job and then you two can talk it out and see what to do. You’re still not sure if you’re taking it or not but you’re sure that after talking with Jungkook he’ll help you come to a decision that’s best for you.

“Y/n!”

A smile came to your face as Bam immediately jumped up ready to greet his owner, “Over here!” You said back as you began to move off the bed, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Before you could get to the door it was swung open and you immediately knew something was wrong. Jungkook looked angry, there was no denying his stone cold expression. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong!?” He scoffed loudly as Bam stood at alert between you two, “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, Y/n. Or are you going to wait for my friends to do it for you?”

Your heart dropped. What?

Jungkook couldn’t hold it in, he hit the wall lightly, “Say something! Did you get the job?”

“I… yes,” you said quietly and he took a deep breath. He wanted to feel happy, he was happy but… were the guys right? Were you leaving? Why haven’t you told him anything?

“How long have you known?” Jungkook asked, trying to remain calm. You closed your eyes scared, “A month, I didn't tell you be—“

“A month? A fucking month, Y/n?” His breathing was becoming erratic as he tried to push that strange lump in his throat down, “Why—what—oh my god. You told everyone else but me.”

“I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t tell anyone—only Yuna—“ you said as realization hit you. What did he mean by everyone? Who told him? Who knew?

“And you couldn’t talk to your boyfriend?” Jungkook asked, “Y/n, baby, I—we’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to tell each other everything. We, fuck, you don’t trust me?”

“Jungkook please,” you begged as you tried to reach for him but he moved back, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. I did get the job but I would have to relocate and I didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to talk to you and see what we can do or what I should do and… and—“

“But you didn’t talk to me, Y/n!” Jungkook yelled, “You’re saying this but it doesn’t change the fact that you couldn’t talk to me.”

“I wanted to tell you on my own time,” you said. You couldn’t even bring it in yourself to get loud or more vocal. Jungkook scoffed, “When was that gonna be? Were you just gonna shoot me a text while you’re flying across the world?”

“That’s not fair! I haven’t even accepted it yet, I wouldn’t just leave you like that,” you told him as you tried getting close again. He couldn’t even look at you right now.

He’s so proud of you for getting the offer and he wants you to do what’s best for you. He doesn’t know if he’s temporary in your life or not but it doesn’t help that he wants to be selfish and tell you that you can’t leave him. He doesn’t want you to go but it’s not like he could control it. The guilt would eat at him if he ever tried making this choice for you.

Jungkook just doesn’t get why you couldn’t even tell him. You distanced yourself from him and this entire time he thought he was the one who might have done something to upset you.

He released a small scoff as he leaned against the wall looking defeated, he let you hug his waist but he couldn’t even look at you right now. He was in extreme duress at what this means for the two of you. He can’t just pack up his life and follow after a girl who can’t even be open with him.

“Do you love me?” He asked so suddenly that you couldn’t process it quickly enough. He mistook your moment of silence as hesitation and released a deep sigh as he tried pushing you away gently.

“Yes,” you told him honestly as you gave him space.

He laughed bitterly, “You can’t even say it.”

“Jungkook, I love you.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of having to practically beg you to tell me you love me,” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse. He felt awful because he knows you love him but the way you close off from him and keep him in the dark makes him think it’s not reciprocated to the extent of his own feelings.

“Baby, please just sit with me and talk and we can figure this out,” you said trying to guide him toward the bed but he wouldn’t budge.

He shook his head, “I don’t want to talk it out. You couldn’t tell me when it happened Y/n, you distanced yourself from me and I genuinely thought I did something wrong. I thought that maybe I was the one who did something to upset you and I’ve been worried sick thinking that you weren’t in love with me anymore. So if you want to talk about unfair, there it is.”

“My girlfriend doesn’t want me enough to confide in me and can’t even say she loves me unless asked,” Jungkook felt his eyes begin to burn but he ignored the feeling.

“No, please, that’s not it, I just didn’t want to worry you if I didn’t even know if I was taking it or not,” you kept repeating, “I want to talk. I haven’t talked to anyone about it. I don’t know how everyone found out but please…”

“Y/n, I need space.”

You froze, “What?”

He couldn’t meet your eyes, “I just… I really love you and I’m mad you couldn’t talk to me about it but at the same time I feel like it isn’t my decision to make. I don’t want you to stay because of me, if you want to take the offer…”

He was struggling to speak as he began to walk away, “I can’t do this.”

“Jungkook I want to be with you, that’s not going to change so whether you believe it or not, you have a huge impact on my decision an—“

“Y/n, please,” Jungkook ran his hand over his face, “I want you to stay. I want you to stay so fucking bad but I also want you to do what you think is best for you. I can’t ask you to turn something down for me even if everything inside me wants to. I just… I don’t think I could go with you.”

“So I just need some time,” he said as he grabbed a duffel bag from his closet, “And I mean, let’s face it. We haven’t been together long enough for you to want to stay for me.”

“So you’re breaking up with me when I haven’t even decide—“

“No, I’m not. I would never. I’m just going to give you space,” he cut you off, “I’m going to give you time to decide what you want to do.”

“Okay but it still sounds like you’re just dumping me,” you told him as he packed a bag, “Feels like you’re giving me an ultimatum, you or the job.”

He took a deep breath, “I’m not dumping you, I just—can you just understand where I’m coming from? We’re supposed to be a team and yet sometimes I feel like it’s too much work for you to be open with me. You aren’t as vocal about our relationship and I am totally fine with that but sometimes you can’t even show me that you feel the same. You turn away from me, you lie, you can’t confide in me, and honestly if you really wanted to talk about that offer with me you would’ve done it in the beginning instead of push me away. That makes me feel like shit because I’ve been trying and trying with you and it’s like… you just don’t care.”

“I want us to work out, I really do because I love you, and I know sometimes you struggle saying it but you love me too and that’s why I just don’t get why you couldn’t just come to me first,” he kept going, “I had to hear it from everyone else and do you know how embarrassing it is that everyone’s been knowing more about my girlfriend then I have? I get that it wasn’t your intention but it’s what happened and it does make me feel shitty.”

He looked over at you and he could see the tears forming in your eyes and this time he understood why. He had finished packing his bag and went to you right away. He felt like crying too but he couldn’t tell you why. Like he said, he wants you to make the decision that’s best for you. If you want to try long distance… he’s not sure if he’ll be able to handle it but he’s willing to try for you. If you want to break up, he’ll be heartbroken but he understands the circumstances. You haven’t even been dating for a year, he can’t expect you to throw away your dream career for him even if it hurts to think about it.

He held your face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut to fight back a couple tears and pressed a kiss to your boyfriend, “I love you.” He wasn’t expecting you to say it back, he was expecting the same old ditto.

“I love you too,” you whispered and he felt his chest practically squeeze his heart painfully. He left his lips there on your forehead, no longer giving a kiss but just basking in your presence for a little longer.

“Where are you gonna go?” You asked as he finally pulled away. He shrugged, “I’ll stay with one of the guys for a while, I’ll be back, I promise.”

You watched him rally up Bam and even though you didn’t want either to go you understood. If you could’ve just talked to your very understanding boyfriend about this then you could’ve saved both of you from this weird feeling. This is what he was talking about though, you’re not breaking up and yet thinking of him not waking up beside you hurts.

Bam ran over to you as Jungkook stood at the door and you leaned down to hug him too as he licked your face like he knew he wouldn’t see you for a while.

When he left it suddenly felt a lot lonelier than before and the second the door shut behind him he let himself cry. That made him feel ridiculous because this is not him breaking up with you but if you could’ve just talked to him, if you could’ve just been open with him things wouldn’t have happened this way. Some people might think he’s being dramatic but he’s changed and grown so much in the past two years and it would be a lie if he said you didn’t help him on the way, so to stop you from doing it too is like a punch in the gut.

♱

He ended up at Namjoon’s place where he’s been staying the last couple of days. He’s just the most understanding even if he doesn’t fully agree with how either of you have handled things.

“I don’t think you’re being dramatic Kook, but I can’t tell you that I fully understand everything,” Namjoon said on Jungkook’s fifth day of being there, “If Y/n takes the job offer and leaves I know you’ll be happy that she’s going after something she’s wanted for a while but also sad that she’ll be gone. Do you really think you couldn’t try long distance?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know,” Jungkook said as he ran his hand over his face clearly stressed, “I want to try if that’s what Y/n wants but… I want to be able to see her, hold her, know that I’m going home to her and if she’s away, I can’t. I would love nothing more than to go with her but I can’t just uproot my life for someone I’m not married—even engaged to. A big move like that could damage our relationship and I just don’t want to risk it.”

“If she asked you to go, would you think about it at least?” Namjoon asked. Jungkook thought about it for a moment, “If she asked me to… and I knew she wanted me there, I would—but I know Y/n would never ask me, especially not now that I’m doing the studio.”

“So you already have it in your mind that Y/n’s leaving?” Namjoon asked. He could tell that his friend was struggling right now. He had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, he’s not eating that well but he’s stubborn. He was upset, very, and that’s why he needed some space but at the same time he just missed you so much. It’s like he wanted to prepare himself to not be with you every day if you did decide to move. He was seeing if he could actually handle it.

“I’m just preparing myself for the worst.”

“I’m so sorry Y/n, like you have no idea how awful I feel,” Yuna said once while you three were getting coffee. You needed a couple mental days to think things through and she’s tried talking to you a few times but you just weren’t in the mood to talk. A week has passed and you finally decided to respond and go out for coffee with them.

You released a tired sigh as you leaned back on the small arm chair you sat in, “It’s whatever.”

“Y/n, this is my fault,” Hoseok said, “I just—I just wanted to make sure nobody talked about work before you could tell him yourself. I thought we were helping but obviously not so if you need to blame anyone, blame me.”

“I don’t blame you guys,” you said to them, “You’ve known Jungkook for a long time, I’m just… it was just a lot and I should’ve just told him right away.”

“I get why you didn’t though,” Yuna told you, “You didn’t want to worry him if you didn’t even know what you wanted to do.”

“But um, this is just me asking you as your friend,” Hoseok said, “Do you know yet? It’s almost been two months, don’t you have to make a decision soon?”

“Not yet,” you told him. You looked tired and mentally drained about this and that’s not what you want at all. “It’s my dream job but… it’s far and I would essentially be alone starting over so there’s just a lot to think about. And Jungkook thinks what he says shouldn’t affect my decision but it does.”

Hoseok and Yuna nodded understandingly knowing that if they were in the same situation it would also be a difficult decision to make. It was quiet between all of you as you thought about the job offer again but you finally gathered the courage to ask, “How is he?”

“Um,” Hoseok cleared his throat trying to think of a way to ask without making you too worried, “He’s, y’know, he’s just wanted time alone. He’s not mad at you, I think he just thinks you’ve made up your mind and he thinks he’ll hold you back.”

You groaned, “But he wouldn’t. He’s one of the most genuine and supportive guys I’ve ever met and it pisses me off that I just haven’t really appreciated him as much as I should have.”

“Y/n stop,” Yuna said, “He knows you love him and he knows you’ve been thinking about this a lot and that’s why he’s trying to make it easier on you even if y’know, that’s questionable.”

♱

Jungkook’s a mature guy, he swears it, everyone knows this but it’s been a long time since he last drank without knowing he was going home to you. He doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s been two weeks and he only knows about you from what Hoseok has told him—which isn’t much since he’s vowed to keep his mouth shut about what either of you say. You miss him, he misses you but he wants you to make your decision without him around. He doesn’t want to influence you on a life changing decision. He loves you too much to hold you back. He’s just also growing a little delirious now.

“This is such a fun night!” He yelled so loudly heads turned in his direction but he didn’t care. His friends tried getting him to walk straight but he’s a little too drunk for that right now. His arms were up like he just made the winning goal as he repeated himself, “I’m gonna get so fucking drunk tonight.”

He spun in a circle acting like he was on top of the world at the moment. Namjoon grabbed him by the back of his shirt, “Come on man, you’re already drunk, I think we should call it a night.”

“Let him have fun,” Jimin said laughing as Jungkook continued to walk in circles spinning himself so much that he was dizzy and with that feeling of puking. “He’s been a zombie for weeks now and this is the first time I’ve seen him relax. Let him get it out of his system.”

This was 100% Jimin’s idea and listen, he’s a good friend, he really is. He’s just the more carefree type. He feels bad for telling Jungkook but in his mind it’s not that serious and right now he’s just happy that his friend’s not passed out on Namjoon’s couch, sad.

Namjoon huffed as he tried to reel Jungkook back in, “Yeah and look how well he’s doing that.”

“I feel great, hyung! I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders! I feel like I can fly!” Jungkook said, spreading his arms out accidentally whacking some bystander.

“Hey!”

“Sorry!” Jimin said pulling Jungkook back before he started a fight with someone. He’s drunk enough to do that and he knows that Jungkook will be very willing to start a fight just so he could hit something. That’s the kind of guy he was before you and right now he’s got a lot of emotions running through him at the moment.

“I’m not!” Jungkook yelled in response to Jimin’s apology to the stranger and he watched him with a smirk. He was definitely looking for a fight right now, just like his old self would.

“Alright let’s get him home,” Namjoon said with a sigh as he attempted to help Jimin keep Jungkook walking before he really pissed someone off. Jungkook could handle his own but he’s a clumsy drunk so probably not right now.

Jungkook tried freeing himself from their grip, “No! I don’t want to go to your place. I want to go home.”

“Alright, so what are we still doing here?” Namjoon asked more annoyed now, “You’re just being stubborn at this point and if you really wanted to be with Y/n, you would be! So quit acting like this and go talk it out! You’ve been mad she won’t talk to you about things and now you’re doing the same. Look at how you’re acting. If Y/n was here she’d kill you for acting like a fool and I know you’re not actually having fun. You’re just acting like you are so that you don’t think about what’s going on and it’s not working!”

At that reminder Jungkook seemed to freeze up, as if he hadn’t been yelling at the top of his lungs about how fun the night was. Jimin looked serious now, realizing that this wasn’t all that okay, and he needed to get Jungkook back to Joon’s place to sleep it off. Namjoon was being a little cruel but it’s what Jungkook needed to hear right now and it's up to Jimin to be the sympathetic one.

Jimin pulled Jungkook into his side, “Let’s just get you back to Joon’s place and get you sober before you do an—Jungkook!”

He was nearly sprinting into a cab, swinging the door open and locking it before his friends could get to him. He told the driver an address and he was off. Don’t ask him where he was going because it was obvious. He’s going to you.

It wasn’t until he stood in front of his door that he realized his mistake.

“Aish,” he cursed himself as he stared around the concrete hall of his apartment. On one side was the cement railing facing the building courtyard and on the other was his old place. He grabbed his keys, it’s too late now, right? You’ll probably be sleeping and too tired to have this conversation again but he needed to see you. He muttered incoherently to himself as he let himself in making too much noise in his drunken haze.

Jungkook followed his usual routine. He knew exactly where to leave his keys and his shoes. He knew where to hang his coat and where the extra blankets and pillows were. He knew which remote was for what and where the outlets were.

You had been sleeping—or at least attempting to—but it was strange to sleep in an empty bed. It was a little hard to sleep when you were positive there was an intruder. You couldn’t even ask your big buff boyfriend to go check it out because he’s been gone! You should probably stay in bed and pretend you’re not home but you’re also scared to do nothing.

So you gathered all the courage you could and also your phone so you could be ready to call the police—oh and one of the dumbbells Jungkook left here before he split, just to be safe.

Now imagine if you actually used it on the intruder who was currently fussing with one of your blankets trying to get himself comfortable on the small couch. You released a sigh holding a hand to your racing heart, “Jungkook!”

He looked over at you, wide awake, “You’re awake?I—I didn’t want to wake you, I just wanted to be here when you woke up and—”

“Why are you here?” You asked as you went up to him. He resisted the urge to open his arms for you to crawl into. He was slurring on his words as he spoke to you and you can tell something was up.

“Are you drunk?” You continued to ask him questions and he was just trying not to seem that way because then you’ll ask him why he’s drunk. Jungkook was trying his best to seem comfortable. His arm was behind his head and his other hand on his chest, a leg kicked up on the couch, tangled in the blanket but it didn’t feel right. After some time he gave you a brief nod to your question and looked at you, “I want to come home.”

You turned away from him and for a second he thought you were just going to end it with him right now over the fact that he need a break.

“You’re so mean,” your voice was shaky and he sat up immediately worrying you would cry, “Y—you just left because you needed space and now you’re coming back in the middle of the night and… ugh I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said, “I thought you made up your mind. I thought you were just trying to hold off telling me and I was scared but Y/n… I’m telling you right now that if you want to leave I’ll go with you. I’ll follow you wherever and I just needed time to realize that my home is with you no matter where we g—“

His breath was nearly knocked out of his chest as you fell into his arms. He’s never held onto anyone so tightly in his life. He held you like his life depended on it and you cling to him like a little koala sitting on his lap.

“I’m not taking it.”

He couldn’t hear you at first, he hadn’t processed it but when he did he froze, “What? Baby, I, if, what are you saying right now?”

You pulled away from his chest to look at him, sniffling a little, “I’m not taking it. I’ve been stalling making this decision because I thought I didn’t want to let anyone down but I realized it’s because I don’t want to do it. If it was here I would take it but I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to make you pack up your life and go with me. I don’t want to leave our amazing friends. I don’t want to leave everything behind and Bam wouldn’t be able to see Tannie.”

He laughed softly as he brushed your hair out of your face wiping your tears in the process, “Always thinking about Bam… but I want you to be sure about your decision honey, I want to know this is what you want because like I said, I’ll follow you wherever. I just don’t want to see you cry.”

“No, I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to be here with you and with everyone and I’m sorry I’ve made this so difficult. I just… I’m bad at making decisions and, fuck, I’m just sorry. I could find a job anywhere, I know they’ll hire me and I won’t have to leave everything behind for it.”

Jungkook felt mushy inside. Part of him still felt guilty that you were turning this down but he also knows that no matter how hard it is to decide on something, once you’ve done it, there’s no going back. Like with him, once you decide on each other that’s that. He’s not letting you and he sees that you won’t let him go either.

“And you’re positive this is what you want? You won’t regret it?

You shook your head, “I won’t,” sniffling, you added, “I love you.”

He smiled, “Ditto.”

You laughed softly as he pressed his lips against yours, “I’m so fucking in love you, Y/n and we’ve made this so much more difficult than it needed to be and I’m sorry for that.”

“Let’s just forget it,” you told him, “Let’s just go to bed and move on.”

He released a content sigh, suddenly holding you by the waist and standing with you clinging to him, “We’ll talk in the morning, just to make sure. For now I’m taking my crybaby to bed and tomorrow we’re bringing Bam home together because he missed his mommy so much.”

“Mommy?” You said even as tears filled your eyes, still being a crybaby, “I missed you both so much.”

“We missed you too.”

::.

wow okay this was a rollercoaster but like a good one idk

it came out softer than I wanted but whatever

also banner change cause Calvin Klein 🤭

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