#because have I mentioned I hate miscommunication angst
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off the beaten path
pairing: patrick zweig x reader
summary: what could go wrong with a non-refundable honeymoon and a broken engagement?
warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no sex scenes), exes to lovers, idiots to lovers angst, fluff, there was only one bed MULTIPLE times, jealousy!! (like a lot), slow burn, no use of y/n, so much use of the word fuck, a little toxicity, some facts about landmarks are inaccurate for the plot, lots of arguing and making up, miscommunication, seasickness, patrick & reader kinda have no social awareness, a lot of hotels and buses, alcohol, hurt/comfort, happy ending.
word count: 18.4k
author’s note: this was so much longer than i expected it to be, but i loved writing it so so much and i'm gonna be sad to see this pairing go! also, a special thank you to the tour website whose itinerary i used for their trip. i hope you enjoy!
JFK AIRPORT
You scrolled endlessly on your phone as you sat at your gate, trying your hardest to fight off the combination of sleepiness and anxiety that had been slowly creeping up on you for the past hour.
You should be happy—excited to spend the next month of your life traveling throughout Europe on the trip that you had dreamt about since you were a child. Instead, you were filled with dread at the prospect of your quickly approaching trip, leaving your leg bouncing and your eyes flitting between the device in your hands and the entrance of the gate, anxiously anticipating the arrival of a man that you really really did not want to see.
Once it was announced that first class was boarding, you quickly hopped out of your uncomfortable seat, hoping that if you boarded quick enough, you might be able to miss your unwanted companion. As you stood in line, you tried your best to be casual about your endlessly swiveling head and wondered if it was too late to simply call the whole thing off.
Boarding had gone smoothly enough, and as you settled into your seat, you still hadn’t seen any sign of your former fiancé. For a second, a spark of hope lit up in you. Maybe you’d get to experience Europe without that pest in your ear after all. Maybe you could even arrange a friend to come fly out and be with you for a few days, or find someone to have a romantic summer fling with.
But just as soon as your hope arrived, it departed with the sound of a familiar voice walking down the aisle and directly towards you.
“They wouldn’t let me switch my seat.”
You couldn’t believe that those were the choice of words the man you’d intended to spend the rest of your life with had decided to start with. After months of radio silence. No apologies, no awkward small talk, no sugar-coated words about your situation, just a complaint about the conditions the two of you would be in for the next eight hours. Classic Patrick.
“That’s too bad,” you replied, already annoyed by his presence. You had underestimated how much of a challenge this trip was going to be, solely based on the speed at which your negative feelings had come to the surface.
“Yeah, no shit,” he muttered under his own breath, putting some luggage into the overhead bin above your seats.
“You’re the one who insisted we still go,” you argued, not wanting him to get the last word—even if his last words were meant to be a snarky comment to himself more than anything else.
“The hotels, tours, and all the other tickets were non-refundable!” he argued right back to you.
“So?” you shot back like a petulant child.
“So I didn’t want to waste your money.”
“Oh, how considerate,” you scoffed sarcastically before beginning once more. “You’re rich! You don’t even have to be here!”
“Just because my family is comfortable doesn’t mean I want to waste my money.”
You openly rolled your eyes at his words. Comfortable was the understatement of the century. “So you didn’t actually want to waste my money. You didn’t want to waste your own.”
“Why can’t it be both?” he asked, sounding exasperated by your line of thinking. You hated when he did that. You kind of hated most things he did now. Maybe you just hated him.
“I never said it can’t be both, I just think you should stop trying to act like you’re so charitable for doing me a favor. As if our relationship wasn’t filled with me doing you favors.”
“Do you really want to be having this conversation right now?” he asked.
“Sorry, you’re right. We have the next thirty-five days to talk about it.”
The two of you sighed in a synchronized breath at the mention of the amount of time you had to spend together. You hated that the two of you were still in rhythm after everything you’d been through. Or maybe you just hated Patrick.
“Who plans a thirty-five day honeymoon anyway?” he huffed.
“Us, apparently. I mean, you were all for it, what? A few months ago?”
“Only because you wanted it.
“Oh, how could I forget. The ever-charitable Patrick Zweig. Taking a month-long break from hitting balls to be with me. I’m forever in your debt,” you mocked with a dramatic hand to your forehead. “At this rate, you’re gonna send me a list of all of the nice things you’ve ever done for me. What do you want me to say? Thank you for doing the bare minimum as a boyfriend?”
“Fiancé,” he corrected you, earning a very nasty side eye from you in the process of doing so.
You were beginning to get dirty looks from your fellow first class passengers, which temporarily shut the both of you up. It was never a good idea to piss off people on a plane. You didn’t want to end up on the no-fly list just because you couldn’t bite your tongue around your ex.
“Remember when you said we could still be friends after this?” Patrick spoke once more after your moment of silence.
“Of course I remember, but you stopped that from happening when you…” your voice trailed off as you made eye contact with a very displeased looking middle aged woman “Whatever. Let’s just… try to get through this flight. And try not to make any more of a scene.”
“Fine,” he replied, shrugging in your peripheral vision.
“Fine,” you said back, not wanting him to have the last word.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you think you win every argument just because you said the last thing.”
“I’m not doing that,” you lied. “You think you know me so well.”
A familiar agitated smile broke out on his face, something that you unfortunately missed seeing. “I do know you well, though. I see right through you.”
“You actually don’t, though.”
“I do,” he insisted, the smirk creeping onto his face telling you that he knew you were actively proving his point.
“Not really,” you dismissed and attempted to casually pull the headphones that were currently sitting on your neck up to cover your ears. You were always grateful to have noise-canceling headphones when you were traveling, but they were coming particularly in handy for you to win this argument. You tried to hide your self-satisfied smirk as you pressed play on your phone, but you could instantly tell that you were failing.
When you looked back up, Patrick was clearly saying words to you that you weren’t able to hear. Knowing him, he was probably saying something along the lines of, “Real mature.”
The truth was that he wanted the last word more than you did–which made it particularly rewarding when you gestured to your headphones before throwing your hands out in a shrug to indicate to him that you couldn’t hear him.
Your vacation was already off to a chaotic start. You couldn’t help but fear what the next thirty-five days would be like.
BARCELONA, SPAIN
Despite the flight only being eight hours long, you were absolutely exhausted by the time that you checked into your hotel room. So exhausted that you failed to remember to request to switch rooms to one with two beds rather than one.
This predicament only came to the forefront of your mind once you and Patrick had already swiped into the room, suitcases lying on the floor and one king-sized mattress presented in front of you.
“Should I go back down to the front desk?” he asked as he looked from you to the bed.
“I’m too tired to get a new room,” you replied. You could handle one night next to your ex. You’d slept in a bed together for years. Granted, during those years you were also sleeping together, but this wasn’t all that different.
“Fine. Don’t complain if I hog blankets, then.”
“Fine,” you replied. “Just stay on your side of the bed.”
You shucked your backpack from your shoulders and walked over to what was typically the side of the bed where you slept when the two of you had been a couple. Not wasting any time to get ready for bed, you began to take off your clothes and search for your pajamas. Once you glanced over your shoulder, you were quite displeased to find Patrick rather openly ogling at you.
“Stop looking at me,” you demanded.
“What? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He said with a smirk.
“You’re such a creep,” you muttered, throwing on an old shirt and crawling into bed.
As you laid in bed and texted your friends and family that you’d arrived at your hotel safely, you took a peek of your own at your former partner as he got ready for bed. He seemed to be going with his classic bedtime attire of just boxers. Bold move.
Your eyes were momentarily stuck on his abs and enticing happy trail. You’d planned your trip during Patrick’s off season while he was training for his upcoming season, so you were pleasantly unsurprised that he was in such good shape. Your breath caught for a second as you thought about the rest of him, and you desperately tried to repress the low, fiery feeling rising in your stomach.
“And I’m the creep?” he asked with a laugh, pulling you away from your objectification as he got into bed next to you.
“Yeah,” you replied, as if you hadn’t just given him the same treatment he’d given you.
“Well… like what you see?”
You scoffed at his audacity, though you did like what you saw. “I’m not fucking you. Goodnight.”
You hit the light on your nightstand and you swore you heard a quiet sound of disappointment come from Patrick. Bastard.
You turned your back to him and closed your eyes, finding that sleep took you under surprisingly easily.
When you woke up in the morning, you were greeted by a far too familiar feeling. Despite your request for Patrick to stay on his side of the bed, the slow, steady breaths being breathed into your ear and the solid wall of body behind you indicated that he had not only traveled into your space over the course of the night, but was actively spooning you.
You were shocked to find that you didn’t necessarily mind it. Yes, you were mad at Patrick for everything that had gone down between you, and because he was such a pain in the ass, but you also hadn’t realized just how much you missed being held. Particularly, how much you missed being held by him.
The more alert you became, the more you realized that you couldn’t really move. Despite that, you found that you didn’t really want to move. Sure, you were beginning to get uncomfortably hot, and yes, you could feel Patrick’s morning wood pressing against your ass, but none of it was particularly unpleasant.
Part of you wondered if your trip would go differently than you expected. Regardless of how you acted towards one another, you clearly both missed each other.
Your shrill phone alarm suddenly went off, startling Patrick awake behind you.
“Mmm, fuck, sorry,” he sleepily slurred as he rolled away from you. You turned over to look at his tired face, eyes still lidded and speckled face looking far softer than you remembered.
Out of the blue, he opened his eyes, catching you in the act of looking at him with barely-concealed affection. Before he could make some sort of snarky comment, he shot out of bed, adjusted his boxers, and made an urgent beeline towards the bathroom. All of which would’ve been far funnier if his actions hadn’t been disrupted by the loud message ping of his cellphone.
You weighed out your options. You were curious about what was waiting for him on his phone, but you weren’t sure that you’d have time to properly snoop. As if the universe was listening to your thoughts, the sound of the shower began, telling you that you had all the time that you needed to do some adequate investigation.
You wondered who was texting Patrick so early in the morning. Knowing him, it was probably his mother, checking in to make sure he made it to his destination safely. You were sure that whatever message she left would also be inquiring about you. She’d always had a bit of a soft spot for you, especially compared to some of the other people that Patrick had brought home. That, of course, was an observation shared to you from Patrick, so you couldn’t be sure how much of it was flattery compared to truth.
Regardless, her fondness for you had carried into the end of your relationship, with her occasionally messaging or calling you to make sure that you were still doing well, and more importantly, to check in on the status of your relationship.
Much like you and your friends, she’d been holding out hope that your relationship may repair itself. With you and Patrick being as passionate as the two of you were, you were no strangers to seemingly serious arguments that resolved themselves in a matter of days. While calling off a wedding was far more drastic than any of your other disputes had been, after being together for years, it was hard to imagine a world where the two of you weren’t a couple.
But his call never came. You didn’t hear an apology or explanation or even an excuse from Patrick—just a suggestion of when you should pick up the items you’d left at his place.
You hated to admit it, but there was a naïve part of you that was still holding out hope that this trip would be exactly what you needed to reconcile. And maybe that naïeve part of you was less delusional than you might’ve originally thought. Surely cuddling into the morning and Patrick’s poorly hidden morning wood were signs that this vacation was already going in the right direction. Maybe being in such close proximity was exactly the push you needed to get your relationship back on track.
After a halfhearted internal debate, you grabbed his phone from the night stand on his side of the bed. Attempting the passcode he’d been using while you were together—the digits of your birthday—you were pleased to find that the password hadn’t changed and that you were granted access into his phone. What you weren’t expecting to see was Tinder on the homepage of his cracked device.
You paused for a moment and attempted to reason with yourself. Your former fiancé probably didn’t even use the app. He’d likely been pressured by his rebound-obsessed friends to download it, and hadn’t even opened the app since setting up his profile. Besides, you didn’t get on his phone to see what new apps he’d downloaded, you were snooping to see what his mom had to say about you.
When you opened his messages app, your mouth promptly fell open in shock. Patrick had always been loyal to you—at least to your knowledge—while the two of you were together. Seeing him be so openly flirtatious and suggestive with an attractive woman that you hadn’t ever heard of was more than jarring.
Your stomach churned as you scrolled through the conversation, flirty messages and images from both sides that left little to the imagination disturbing you in a way that you hadn’t ever realized was possible.
In the midst of your distraught state, you nearly missed the background noise of the shower coming to a halt, informing you that your time snooping had come to an end.
You set his phone back down where you’d found it and desperately tried to push down the bile in your throat that was tasting more and more like jealousy and anger by the second.
You knew it was irrational for you to be feeling this way, considering that the two of you had been broken up for a few months. Nothing legally or morally tied the two of you together anymore, but that didn’t make you feel any less unsettled by what you’d just seen.
It was just that… you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to fully move on from Patrick. He’d been part of your life for so long, and the way things ended had been so abrupt that it almost didn’t feel real. Even if you did move on, it was going to take you more than three months to do so. It wasn’t fair that Patrick’s name seemed to pop up every week in your therapy sessions, while he was sending pictures of himself in gray sweatpants to random hot women.
You wanted to shrink into the mattress and never come back up. You wanted to yell at Patrick the moment he stepped out of the bathroom. You wanted to turn on your side and wail dramatically, at least until all of your big feelings felt a little smaller.
But you were in Europe on vacation. You were on vacation, damnit, and you weren’t going to let one mildly disturbing text thread ruin your entire experience. Better yet, if Patrick was already moving on, there was no reason that you shouldn’t do the same.
You told yourself this as you rolled out of bed and dug in your suitcase, pulling out a sundress that had driven Patrick wild in the past. While you may have packed it with less than realistic expectations, your goal was far more grounded now.
Both of you could play this game.
You stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed after a shower of your own and instantly registered the almost cartoonish look he was giving you. You guessed that some things never changed, even when the two of you had decided to actively pursue other people.
“The tour guide said to meet in the lobby soon, so I’m gonna head down,” you explained, not giving him a second look as you began to search for your purse.
“The tour doesn’t start for another half hour?” he replied, sitting up from where he was laying on the bed.
“Well I wanna socialize with the people we’re gonna be traveling through Europe with,” you said a little snappily, still a little perturbed about what you’d found on his phone earlier. You conveniently left out the fact that you wanted to scope out any potential summer flings.
“I’ll come with you,” he insisted.
“You really don’t have to. Remember, this isn’t actually a honeymoon,” you slipped on some comfortable shoes and headed to the door. “I’ll see you around.”
You were probably being far more rude than you really needed to be, but your anger had only intensified as you showered and put on makeup. At this point, you were fully pissed—even if you didn’t have the right to be.
You made small talk with the people you met in the lobby as they began to filter into the room, and tried your absolute best to dispel the anger that was flowing through your veins. That proved harder than you anticipated, as Patrick was one of the last people to join you all in the lobby, and for the life of you, you couldn’t stop imagining him sitting in your shared hotel room and sexting his mystery girl.
Luckily, you couldn’t dwell on that ugly thought for too long, as your tour began soon after. Your friendly guide took your group around the city, explaining rather riveting information about the landmarks you visited and the city itself.
After being dismissed for a quick break, you found yourself sitting on a bench and chatting with a man in your group. He wasn’t really your type, but he was extremely conventionally attractive, and from the peripheral glances you caught of Patrick, you could tell that he wasn’t exactly pleased with what was going on.
While making him jealous, or annoyed, or whatever it was that he was feeling, wasn’t your expressed goal, it did feel nice to give him a taste of his own medicine. What felt less nice was glancing over and catching him typing on his phone furiously. You could only imagine whose boobs were on the other end of the line.
Reacting out of a bit of desperation and frustration, you began to play things up. You leaned over more to show off more cleavage, laughed a little harder at jokes that weren’t all that funny, and set a scandalous hand on his arm. You were determined to have that vacation fling now, and you were going to get it by any means necessary.
You laid it on thick for the rest of the afternoon, sitting next to him during lunch and flirting casually with him as your group walked through Park Güell.
You wondered if he noticed you throwing glances in Patrick’s direction after every interaction. You hoped that he didn’t.
It felt good to be getting even with Patrick—but not as good as you expected it to feel. The realization sunk in as a portion of your group visited a bar that was apparently very popular with the locals. Or at least, that’s what a very handsome man purred into your ear after sitting down next to you at the bar.
You’d been keeping an eye on Patrick as he socialized with a couple that he’d been talking to for the majority of your day, but you almost instantly lost track of him as you became consumed with this handsome stranger.
Everything happened in a bit of a blur—one moment you’d been nursing a Marianito, and the next you were holding the hand of a man whose name you couldn’t remember as he led you to his apartment.
By the time you’d left his apartment, you were nothing short of a mess. You were pretty sure that the only way you could’ve been more obvious about what had just happened to you was if you had the words “JUST HAD SEX” written across your forehead—and with the way the people in your hotel elevator were looking at you, you couldn’t be completely sure that those words weren’t on your face.
You made it back to your room safely, quietly opening the door and doing your best not to make too much noise, since at this hour, Patrick was surely asleep.
It did feel weird to be going back to his bed less than an hour after you’d been with another man, but you couldn’t necessarily say you felt bad. Patrick had started it, and you simply finished it off. If he didn’t have any issues with seeing other people, there was no reason for you to have an issue with it either.
Your efforts to be quiet had proved themselves to be for naught, as Patrick was very clearly wide awake, sitting up in bed and already looking at you disapprovingly.
You weren’t sure what possessed you to speak, rather than ignoring his presence and heading straight to the shower, but your mouth was open before you could stop yourself.
“Were you just gonna wait here until I got back, like I’m a kid who just snuck out or something?” you asked in disbelief, partially annoyed because of his action, but more ashamed to have been caught in such a state. It couldn’t have been more obvious to Patrick what you’d just done, considering that he’d seen you in a similar state hundreds of times.
“Baby, we are on a whole different, unfamiliar continent,” his tone was condescending and cold and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. “Why wouldn’t I wait to make sure you got back safely?”
“Don’t call me pet names. And I would’ve been fine. We were just at the bar,” you lied. Going to the apartment of a random man you just met probably wasn’t your brightest idea, but you made it out alive, and that was what mattered.
“Huh. The bar?” he smirked at you in a way that screamed that he was pissed, without really having to say a word.
“Yes, I- what does it matter to you anyway?” you hoped that the question would be enough to get you out of the situation. If you were going to argue, you at least wanted to argue after you were showered and in pajamas.
“What does it matter to me if you fucked someone else?” he asked, sounding like he was in complete disbelief.
“Yeah, Patrick. Why does it matter if I fucked someone else? We’re not together anymore. Did you forget? I mean, it seemed pretty obvious to you when you stopped speaking to me completely a few months ago.”
“Please, enlighten me. What did I have to speak to you about?”
“I don’t know! Maybe an ‘are you okay?’ would’ve been nice. Or something. Anything, really. We were together for six fucking years and you just dropped me like I was dirt!”
“I…” he trailed off, catching you by surprise. He almost always had a quick clever response that managed to piss you off in a way no one else ever could, so seeing him not knowing what to say next caught you off guard. “If our relationship meant that much to you, why were you all over that guy? I mean, seriously. I’ve never seen anything so desperate. You were practically rubbing yourself on him in the park like a bitch in heat.”
Contempt dripped from his words. You had never been so enraged.
“Are you joking?” you laughed out of sheer anger. “Patrick, you started it! How many Tinder girls have you seen since we broke up? And don’t you dare fucking lie to me. I saw everything you’ve been sending to Amelia. Amelia, I’m so lonely. Amelia, I’m so horny. Amelia, I love you so much,” you mocked.
“You went through my phone?” he asked in disbelief, not even bothering to address the rest of your statement. “Fuck. You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m unbelievable? How long did it even take you before we split for you to start seeing other people? I mean, knowing you, you were probably just waiting for the day we broke up to go get your dick wet.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” for a second, he looked genuinely wounded—something you were only able to recognize after years of being in a relationship with the man. You didn’t like that you were actively hurting him, but he’d been inflicting pain on you from the moment you broke up.
“Fine,” you conceded on that front, knowing that he was right. It wasn’t completely true. If you hadn’t gone through his phone, you never would’ve guessed that he had already moved on. “But you’ve still been seeing other people.”
“We’ve been broken up for months now,” he replied, as if that was supposed to make things any better or more reasonable.
“Then why do you care so much about me having sex with someone else? It’s fine when you do it, but suddenly it’s an issue for me?”
Patrick’s face immediately paled. “You really fucked him?”
“Well, yeah,” you paused. “Well, not who you’re thinking of.”
“You fucked someone else?!” The hurt and disbelief buried under his words made your stomach churn. “You were flirting with that other douchebag all day, I don’t-“
“You’re acting like I’m some whore for reacting to something that you did first!” you cut him off.
“And you’re acting like I wanted to get rid of you this whole time!” he shot back out at you.
“Clearly you fucking did,” you hissed.
“Fuck you,” he huffed.
“Fuck you,” you shot right back. “I’m leaving.”
“Good,” Patrick replied with a shrug as if he didn’t care, although you were very sure that he cared. “Go run back to your little fuck buddy.”
“Yeah, maybe I will,” you replied as you gathered your items back into your suitcase. “He was better than you, by the way.”
“Yeah, I bet,” he said snarkily as he watched you pack up your items. Luckily, you didn’t have much to pack up and were already heading towards the door.
“He had a bigger dick, too,” you said as you swung open the hotel room door, fully satisfied with a lie that you knew would bother Patrick.
While leaving your hotel room seemed like a wonderful idea in the moment, as you went down the elevator, you started to realize that you really did not have many options for where you’d sleep that night.
You figured your best bet was the hotel lobby. Maybe you could pretend to be someone who’d drank too much and passed out on the first floor before you made it up to your room. You sat down in a comfortable looking chair and grabbed your keycard—in case anyone asked you to verify who you were—then set a floppy hat on your head to cover your face from the bright hotel lobby lights while you attempted to sleep.
Sleep was already going to be difficult to accomplish, thanks to the argument that you were certainly going to be ruminating on for days to come. That was only made more difficult by the uncomfortable seating and position you’d found yourself in. Somehow, you managed to fall asleep, being woken up by a hotel employee and a friend you’d made from your tour group.
“Long night, huh?” she asked you with a playful smirk.
“Mm, something like that,” you mumbled sleepily.
“Well, you can sleep on the coach. It just got here, so we’ll have the best pick of seats. C’mon,” she extended her hand out to you and you gladly took it, in desperate need of something grounding.
You dozed off on the coach once you’d gotten settled, headphones securely on your ears and sunglasses covering your closed eyes. You were vaguely aware of people boarding the vehicle around you, but didn’t pay much mind to anything. Eventually, you heard the faint sound of someone taking attendance of the people on the bus, followed by the commotion of someone getting on the bus late.
Something compelled you to open up your eyes, and when you did, you were displeased to find that Patrick was the source of all of the drama. Likely thing for him to be. He scrambled down the aisle, looking desperately for empty seats. To your own horror, you realized that the seat next to you was vacant, and perhaps the only vacant seat on the entire coach.
As if your minds were connected, you watched Patrick face that very same dilemma as he eventually decided to sit down in the only empty seat, right next to you.
Neither of you said anything at first, not addressing your blowout argument the previous night, or your awkward current situation.
“You look like shit,” Patrick finally said as the bus took off.
“Thanks,” you replied, mentally preparing yourself for a continuation of the argument you’d had just a few hours ago. It was only a matter of time before he brought up your promiscuity or started blatantly texting his Tinderella.
But none of that ever came. In fact, he just looked a little sad. It was weird to see Patrick so openly defeated. He was always one to put on a smirk or a challenging smile when you argued, letting the façade fall once he was alone, or once the two of you finally discussed what the issue was like adults.
You weren’t sure that you liked it. You preferred annoying asshole Patrick to sad, moping Patrick.
“You look like shit, too,” you added. “Which is crazy, since you had access to a shower and I didn’t.”
“And whose fault is that?” he asked, looking at you with the slightest hint of that devious smile. You had to fight the slightest inkling of a smile on your own face.
You felt ridiculous knowing that your mood was still being influenced by your former partner. Even when he was insulting you. Even after he’d spent the night arguing with you. Even after you’d slept with someone else. Even after the two of you had a messy split.
You still loved him.
“Yours, mostly,” you shrugged and put your headphones back on.
PARIS, FRANCE
Despite your brief conversation on the bus, you and Patrick didn’t speak to each other for the entirety of your commute. Although you clearly cared about him, it didn’t change the fact that he had upset and hurt you deeply. And even as upset as you were, you knew that you’d hurt him just as badly.
You had a particular dread for what awaited you in France, knowing that this part of the tour was very couples-activity heavy. When you’d scheduled your trip, this aspect of the tour felt like a major selling point. The two of you always seemed to be falling more in love with each other, and having a candlelit dinner by the Eiffel Tower felt like an exciting way to kick off your marriage.
Now, you just felt like an idiot.
The two of you did your absolute best to avoid getting paired up with each other for all of the activities that you could. You found yourself spending most of your time with a solo traveler who was close in age to you. She made a surprisingly fun companion to your cheese and wine taste test, popping cubes of fragrant cheese into your mouth and making a competition out of who could detect the most accurate notes in your wine.
While you found luck in your first few activities, you weren’t so lucky when it came to an evening ride of the Roue de Paris. Whether it was fate or just bad luck, after the pair in front of you had dipped out of line for reasons unknown to you, you had the shocking realization that Patrick had been in between them the whole time. So much for meeting new people on the massive ferris wheel.
You tried to look busy so he wouldn’t notice that you noticed, and did your best to think of some sort of game plan. Although you’d essentially been giving each other the silent treatment in the hours leading up to this moment, you’d caught Patrick looking at you multiple times throughout the day—something you only noticed because you’d been looking at him as well.
After a moment, the two of you were let into an empty passenger car. Sitting across from one another, it was hard to ignore the very obvious elephants in the room, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try.
At first, you simply looked out the window, not saying a single word as the ferris wheel began to move.
“You should put that safety belt on, just in case,” Patrick commented from his side of the car, pulling his eyes away from the window to look at you.
“I doubt anything will happen,” you shrugged. “It’s fine.”
He eyed you suspiciously for a moment, before leaning over and strapping you in anyway. Your breath caught in your throat, his simple action putting you into serious psychological pain. It wasn’t lost on you how much Patrick liked to take care of you. It was far more obvious when the two of you were dating, with him covering the bills for dates and doing your laundry for you. It had been so ironic to you at the time, how a man who could barely take care of himself always went out of his way to make sure that you were going to be okay.
Now, his small act of kindness just made your stomach turn. But it wasn’t like you could express any of those feelings.
“Thanks,” was all that you managed before looking out of the window once more.
An awkward, heavy silence filled the passenger car once more as the ride began to take the two of you higher.
“The view is so beautiful,” you commented, unable to remain silent anymore and hoping that your words were neutral enough not to stir any pots.
“Yeah, it’s really nice,” his gaze remained fixed out the window, before he looked at you once more as if there were words on the tip of his tongue.
“I honestly don’t know how we managed to get in line in time to see the sunset,” you continued with your boring, neutral small talk.
“I’m glad we did. This is the perfect spot to watch it.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, continuing to look out the window instead of at the man across from you. “It’s so pretty tonight, too.”
“It is,” he agreed.
The two of you sat in silence again, only the sound of a soft whirring filling your ears. Then suddenly, all at once, the whirring stopped—and so did your passenger car.
“Are we stuck?” you asked, looking out nervously at the very tall height that the two of you were currently definitely stuck at.
“We can’t be. It’ll probably start back up in a second.”
It didn’t start back up in a second. In fact, after a series of announcements in French, an announcement in English suddenly declared that it would be at least an hour before the ride could be fixed.
At the sound of the announcement, both you and Patrick sighed aloud, still synchronized even after everything you’d been through.
“Maybe this is a sign,” Patrick piped up.
“What are you talking about?” you laughed at him, hoping desperately that this didn’t mean that he wanted to continue arguing with you. You genuinely did not have it in you to do so again. You also didn’t have it in you to sleep in another hotel lobby.
“Well, I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day,” he confessed.
“Is that why you were staring at me all day?” you teased, a weak, slightly hopeful smile creeping onto your face.
“I was looking at you because I could feel you staring at me,” he clarified, as if he was setting the record straight. “I don’t want things to be like this between us anymore.”
“Yeah?” you asked, the pit of nerves in your stomach tightening at wherever he was going with his spiel. The anticipation of his words alone made you nauseous.
“So I think that we should talk about last night,” he suggested.
That was exactly what you didn’t want to hear him say. You had barely processed the argument yourself, let alone think about anything else that you had to say to Patrick that didn’t involve trying to hurt him as much as he hurt you.
“We don’t have to. It’s fine. The past is in the past,” you dismissed.
“It’s not fine, though. Not really,” he countered, all earnestness. You didn’t detect any harshness to his words or any blood in the water that indicated to you that he wanted to do anything more than have an honest conversation with you. “I was so out of line. I can’t- I don’t want you to think that I really believe the things I said about you.”
“Patrick, please…” you trailed off, hoping that he would understand that you didn’t really want to talk about this. Though, you were relieved to learn that he’d only said those things out of the heat of the moment.
“No,” he stood his ground. “We need to talk about this if we ever want our relationship to improve.”
“Fine,” you gave in. “But you start, so I can collect my thoughts.”
“Of course,” he leaned forward so he could get a better look at you, and you were immediately drawn into some intense eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for acting like a dick yesterday. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, and I really shouldn’t have let you leave our hotel room. That was really stupid of me. I worried about you for the rest of the night and spent the morning looking for you.”
This was surprising information to you. While you did find it to be a bit of a dick move that Patrick would just let you leave like that after lecturing you about being unsafe in a new country, you hadn’t realized that he’d been late to boarding the coach because he’d been searching for you. You could only imagine the sick feeling he had as he realized he couldn’t find you anywhere.
“I’m sorry for what I said, too. Insulting you for trying to move on was really unfair of me. I was just… hurt, I guess. When I don’t even have the right to be.”
“You do, a little. We were together for a really long time, so it’s gonna feel weird that we’re starting to see other people,” you shrugged. “That was an excellent apology, that I accept, by the way.”
“Thank you. I really got a chance to practice my apology skills with the last woman I was with,” he explained. You tried to repress the feeling of jealousy that was already bubbling up in your stomach at the mention of another woman.
“Yeah?” you asked, hoping that he didn’t notice the brief twitch of your eye.
“Yeah. She’s super opinionated and outspoken, so we would butt heads a lot. But that was always something I really liked about her. That, and her magnificent ass.”
Finally, it occurred to you that he was talking about you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, despite the fact that you were secretly very flattered by the way he was speaking about you. “Ew. Shut up,” you laughed.
“Well, if you’re done objectifying me, I would love to apologize to you too.”
“All done objectifying you. For now, at least. Go ahead.”
You were a little nervous about the words that were about to come out of your mouth. You just had so much to say, and you weren’t sure that it was all going to come out correctly.
“I’m sorry for the things I said last night. I genuinely did not mean what I said, I just got caught up in the moment. And I’m really sorry for going through your phone, because that’s seriously none of my business. It was such an unnecessary violation of trust, and I understand if you’re still pissed at me for that. And it was really ridiculous for me to overreact the way that I did over you seeing someone else, because again, it’s really not my business. I feel like I’m kinda the worst,” you confessed.
“You’re not the worst,” he countered.
“Fine, I guess. Maybe you just bring the worst out in me,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood slightly.
“That sounds more accurate. We bring out the worst in each other.”
“Right. That’s why we’re such a good pair,” you paused, then corrected yourself. “Of friends.”
“Is that what we are now?”
“I never said we were good friends.”
“Frenemies?”
“Something like that,” you said, before the familiar whirring sound of the ferris wheel began once more.
“Huh. Who would’ve thought that the only thing the wheel needed to function was an apology to each other?”
“You’re so annoying,” you laughed and shook your head. “How are we gonna make it through the rest of this trip?”
LONDON, ENGLAND
Your final few days in France had been made far less awkward by your conversation on the ferris wheel. Deciding to fully embrace the couples activities the tour had reserved for you, the two of you were having a good time re-establishing your friendship.
Your trip to London had gone mostly without a hitch, with your group arriving in the city in the evening and immediately checking in to your hotel. At this point, you had given up on even attempting to get separate beds. It seemed like every morning now you woke up cuddling with Patrick, but you weren’t necessarily mad at the unintentional intimacy.
In some ways, your relationship was beginning to feel similar to how it felt before the two of you broke up. While you were sure that things wouldn’t be exactly the same—especially since you still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room that was your breakup—it was nice to return to the comfort you’d found in your relationship with Patrick.
Like clockwork, the morning after your arrival in London, you woke up with Patrick pressed up against your back, nose buried in your hair. As he woke up, he pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline out of what you were sure was just habit rather than genuine affection.
“Morning,” he greeted you groggily, rolling away from your side.
“Morning,” you replied, turning to face him. You ran a hand through his messy morning hair and looked at him fondly. It was taking far more self control than you had to not lean over and kiss him. “What time is it?” you asked, in part to distract yourself, but also because the digital clock was on his side of the bed.
“It’s…” he trailed off as he went to read the time. “Oh shit, we’re gonna be late.”
“What?” you asked, shooting up from your relaxed position.
“It’s 8:25,” he explained, already rolling out of bed.
In a rush, the two of you got dressed in record time, making it down to the lobby in the five minutes that you had to make it on time. You shared a high-five in the lobby, and tried your best not to dwell on how the simple action felt far more domestic than it needed to.
Your tour began not too long after that, getting your day off to a strong start. Your day of exploring London was by far your busiest. You were sure that you’d accumulated thousands of steps as you went between large museums, beautiful parks, and massive landmarks. By the time that you returned to your hotel room, you were pretty sure that your legs were mush.
You returned earlier than Patrick, who had gone out to a gastropub with a group of tourists in your group that he got along well with. You took this as an opportunity to have some alone time, taking a long and steaming hot shower, frolicking around the room in a soft hotel robe, and watching a movie while you waited for your room service to arrive.
After you’d thoroughly enjoyed your alone time, finishing off your room service and opting to scroll on your phone, the door cracked open and Patrick strolled in.
“Looks like you made yourself right at home,” he observed.
“I had to after today’s tour. So much walking,” you groaned.
“It wasn’t all that bad,” he shrugged, sitting down next to you in bed.
“Well, not all of us are professional athletes,” you laughed. “How was the pub?”
“Fun. It’d be better if you came.”
“I’m sorry, I was exhausted,” you sighed. “You could’ve stayed in with me and had a spa day.”
“We can have a spa day anywhere. We can have a spa day right now.”
“Mm, I’m all spa’d out. But the water pressure in the shower is excellent, so you should definitely check that out.”
“I will in a little bit,” he said. “Did you try out the actual spa here?”
“They were closed when I checked, which really sucks, since I was in desperate need of a massage.”
“Do you still want one?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah. I’ll probably try to stop by when they’re open tomorrow and get one.”
“No, I mean, do you want a massage now?” he added.
It had been a long time since Patrick had offered you a massage—or to put his hands on you in any capacity—but you remembered him being criminally talented at giving them. You also remembered his massages usually making for great foreplay that left your knees weak and your brain a pile of jelly, but that clearly wouldn’t be the case now, and you needed to get your head out of the gutter.
“I mean, sure. That would be nice,” you tried not to sound too excited, though the prospect of a massage from him sounded very, very nice.
While the prospect of a massage sounded nice, the actual massage was heavenly. You were sure that years of having personal trainers and physical therapists work knots out of his body had made him an expert at finding knots and kinks in your own, which was now leaving you sighing happily as he ran his hands over your back.
You tried your best to ignore the dull, fiery feeling growing in your lower stomach that was surely a result of experiencing a type of intimacy that you hadn’t in quite some time. As you let out an involuntary soft sound at a particular knot being rubbed out of your shoulder, you wondered if this massage was affecting him nearly as much as it was affecting you.
You promptly received an answer to this question when something hard and phallic brushed up against your leg. You turned your head to glance back at Patrick, and his face immediately grew red.
“Sorry. I can stop, if you want. It just happened because of the noises you’re making and- whatever. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Part of you felt a little satisfied knowing that you still had that type of impact on him. It gave you a tiny glimmer of hope to know that you were still, at the least, physically attracted to one another.
“It’s fine. I’ll shut up.”
“You don’t have to. I want this to be as relaxing as possible for you.”
“Well you’re doing a great job, if you couldn’t tell from all of the moaning and groaning on my end.”
You both somehow made it through the rest of the massage without spilling all over the bed, but as you melted into the bed, feeling every muscle in your body relaxed from your excellent massage, you couldn’t help but note the suspiciously long time Patrick was spending in the shower. And maybe it was just your imagination, but if you listened hard enough, you swore you could hear the sound of a soft chanting of your name coming from the other side of the bathroom door.
While part of you regretted not suggesting that the two of you help each other out with your mutual problems, you were pretty sure that it was for the best. You genuinely didn’t know where the two of you stood, as far as your relationship went. Hooking up would surely further complicate an already complicated situation, since you were pretty sure that ex-fiancés didn’t typically sleep together. But then again, ex-fiancés also didn’t usually go on a honeymoon despite not being together. Your complicated feelings on the matter only further proved to you that you made the right choice by not giving in to your baser desires.
By the time Patrick joined you in bed, you were already half asleep. Yet, even in your delirious state, you didn’t miss the way he came up behind you, pulling you into a loving embrace. It brought warmth to your chest to know that he couldn’t even wait for your automatic sleep routine to hold you, and that he felt the need to take matters into his own hands.
You were pretty sure that exes didn’t do that either.
AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS
You didn’t know what you expected from your first ferry ride, but being face deep in a barf bag while soothing circles were rubbed into your back was certainly not it.
Given that you weren’t a frequent rider of large vessels on bodies of water, you had no clue going into the ride that things would go so sideways so quickly for you. If anything, you thought you might have the opportunity to stare peacefully out into the water, or to force Patrick to take a few cute pictures of you. Unfortunately, you were currently doing neither of those things—and it didn’t seem like you’d be doing them any time soon.
You heaved once more, now almost totally sure that you had nothing left to give. Patrick continued to hold your hair out of your face with one hand and use his other to comfortingly rub your back, not at all fazed by your sickness. If you weren’t currently fighting off another wave of nausea and didn’t have the taste of bile lingering in your mouth, you probably could’ve kissed the man.
Once your brain finally told you the coast was clear, you leaned your head back and took several deep, gasping breaths of air.
“You alright, honey?” he asked you, and you didn’t even have the strength—physical or mental—to correct his use of a pet name.
“I could be better,” you replied, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tilted your head back. “There’s medicine for this, right?”
“Yeah. Let me go see if I can find some.”
As you fought off a war of nausea and headache that was currently beating you on all fronts, you could faintly hear the sound of Patrick asking the people around you if they had any medicine for motion sickness. He eventually returned after what felt like a lifetime, but was probably more like a few minutes, carrying a bottle of Dramamine.
He helped you take the pill, putting it in your mouth then holding a bottle of water up to your lips to help you swallow it. The action felt oddly romantic, though it was more of a matter of practicality compared to anything else. You were clearly not in a stable enough space to get the pill down on your own, so his assistance wasn’t really anything for you to be over analyzing.
“Look at you, keeping that down,” he teased, running his hand up and down your arm. The motion was soothing, a bit of bodily comfort amongst a plethora of other awful physical pains you were experiencing. “You’re doing great.”
His soft caresses turned into a full-blown hug, with Patrick pulling you into a tight embrace. While the action itself was rather cute—especially since it seemed to be completely impulsive on his part—it instantly brought on a new wave of nausea.
“Pat?” you squeaked.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“You’re sweet. But if we stay like this, I am going to be sick all over you.”
He pulled away from you with concern, careful not to move too quickly to set off another bout of sickness. While he let go of your body, he continued to hold your hand, as if he were attempting to ground you. With how anxious he was looking, he might’ve been trying to ground himself as well.
It was cute seeing him so worried about you. You tried your best not to read too much into it, and luckily, your slowly fading nausea was the perfect distraction from doing so.
“Thank you for the drugs. It was fun watching you scramble all around asking people for help. You’re such a good…” you paused, not really knowing what you were or what to say. “Ex.”
Now wasn’t exactly the ideal time to have the, ‘what are we?’ conversation, but Patrick didn’t seem to mind. And if he did mind, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it.
“Only the best for my ex.” Maybe you’d just been imaging it, but you swore you sensed a bit of hesitation on his end as he called you his ex. Admittedly, it would be significantly easier for both of you to be calling each other spouses, or even partners. But alas, you weren’t either of those things to each other anymore.
As if you’d read each other's minds, the two of you quickly moved on from that conversation.
After you’d arrived and gotten settled into Amsterdam, you set off to explore the city. When presented with a few options of things to do, Patrick insisted that the two of you go on a bike tour, much to your own chagrin. As much as you weren’t sure your legs could handle any more strenuous physical activity, you’d known that Patrick had wanted to take this bike tour since your trip was an actual honeymoon. Who were you to deny him of that?
As the two of you toured the very beautiful city, Patrick made sure to make a show out of his biking skills. While he was no professional cyclist, he certainly had the ego of one—which translated to him going a little too hard at times and nearly falling off of his bike more than once.
Each time he almost fell, you found yourself also almost falling, the onset of laughter at the ridiculous man riding next to you nearly being too much to handle. Without fail, every time the two of you did your almost falling, then break into a howling laughter routine, you were given dirty looks by your fellow tour mates. Unfortunately, that only made the situation funnier to you and Patrick.
By the time the tour had wrapped, it was clear that everyone was sick and tired of you. But at least this time, the people around you were sick of the girlish giggles Patrick pulled from you, rather than the rude words he provoked you into saying, like he’d done on the plane.
It was refreshing to be spending time with him like this. In the time that you’d been so upset about your break up, you forgot about just how good it felt to be around Patrick when your relationship was going well.
It was also nice to be spending some alone time with him, away from the rest of your tour group. As the two of you looked at strange knick-knacks in an antique store, you realized just how much you missed being alone with him. While it was nice that the two of you had made friends within your group, your dynamic as a duo was obviously something really special. Maybe that’s why the two of you had been together for so long.
You spent the majority of the afternoon doubled over in laughter, playfully teasing Patrick, or being on the receiving end of subtle, gentle touches. As you really began to think about it, this day of travel had been your favorite—by a long shot. It also happened to be the day that felt most like one from a honeymoon.
Although it had already been clear to you for some time that you still had feelings for Patrick, the day you had spent together had completely sealed the deal. Once Patrick had surprised you with a beautiful bouquet of flowers over dinner, you’d only been more sure that you were sick with love for your ex.
It was a small miracle that you’d rounded out the day without confessing your feelings, particularly since you ended the evening with a movie playing on the television of your hotel room that the two of you barely paid attention to, as Patrick held you and talked about some of the things you’d missed while the two of you were separated.
In the morning, you woke up to the soft sound of chatter, rather than your loud alarm clock or the sound of deep breaths in the shell of your ear.
From what you could faintly make out from the words and the lack of a warm body beside you, Patrick was on the phone with his mother. You wanted to feel bad for eavesdropping, especially since you’d just had an argument with Patrick over your snooping habit just over a week ago, but it was far too difficult not to listen in.
“I’m glad you liked the picture,” you made out from the muffled words behind the doorway. You were sure he was referencing the selfie the two of you took in front of Big Ben a few days ago. You also liked the photo a lot, with the two of you looking particularly good and particularly happy. You’d also taken a more baity photo of him kissing your cheek, specifically to send to his mother who he knew would be overjoyed to see you. While Patrick had explained the idea behind the picture as his mom simply wanting to see you, you knew the more accurate statement is that his mom wanted to see the two of you together.
After a beat, there was a soft chuckle. “No, we’re not back together. No mom, there’s no ‘yet.’ I know. I’m an idiot, I know- aren’t you supposed to take your child’s side? Well, I don’t know if you know this, but we never ended up getting married, so no, she’s not your daughter. How could she possibly be your favorite child! We just talked about this. I’m gonna hang up. I’m serious. Alright. Love you, bye.”
When Patrick returned, you were already sitting up in bed.
“Can you tell your mom I say hi next time?” you asked with a cheeky grin on your face, still coming off of the high that was the romantic outing you’d had the day prior.
“I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” he replied, getting back into bed beside you. “She probably wants to hear from you more than she wants to hear from me.”
You laughed and shook your head, not bothering to argue with his words since you both knew they were pretty accurate.
“I mean, I’m sure she’ll be inviting you to Thanksgiving and Christmas long after we’ve moved on with other people and have our own families.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach. You were sure of it. You thought you could genuinely feel the movement of your most vital organ slowly sinking into a pit of stomach acid.
You tried not to let your smile falter, considering that Patrick was looking right at you with a sweet look of his own plastered on his face. You wondered if this was some sort of test, to gauge how you felt after a day of rekindling the love the two of you thought had burnt out.
Or maybe, more realistically, he’d already come to accept the reality that you’d been stalling on accepting: your relationship was truly over. One fun day wouldn’t change the fact that your wedding had been called off, and that the two of you said things to each other that would alter the foundations of any solid relationship for years to come.
Your heart was such a traitor. She refused to accept the simple fact that Patrick wanted to move on, and that your relationship was a thing of the past. Maybe, if you couldn’t convince your heart to accept that truth, you might be able to force your brain to.
“And I’ll still be accepting that invitation, thank you very much,” you stated, trying to sound confident in your words. “In the meantime, let’s get ready before we miss this bus. You can tell me what your mom’s menu is gonna look like this year on our ride over.”
SOMEWHERE IN CENTRAL GERMANY
It was stupid for you to be torn up the way that you were over just a few simple words, but the more you thought about it, the worse you felt.
In reality, it wasn’t just what Patrick had said to you in the hotel room. It was the fact that he’d been actively trying to move on with other people since who knew when, and the way he seemed to frequently verbally reiterate the fact that your relationship was over. By holding out hope that you might somehow be able to repair your relationship, you were being much more naïve than you even realized.
You felt stupid. But you also felt confused, because as much as Patrick swore he was over you, and pursued other people, he was also far too comfortable acting like nothing had changed between you two. After all, he was the one flirting with you, and trying to attach himself at the hip to you as you traveled. He was the one who always managed to end up spooning you over the course of the night and woke up kissing whatever part of your body he was closest to. For god's sake, he’d just told you yesterday about how he’d searched high and low to find a bouquet of flowers that he thought you would genuinely like. And most damningly, you hadn’t forgotten the look of hurt on his face when he found out that you had slept with someone else. That wasn’t the behavior of someone who was over their partner.
To say you were receiving mixed messages was a complete understatement. You couldn’t understand how it was possible that the man who was currently leaning against you very affectionately, despite being on a cramped bus, was also totally over you and wanted to move on.
You didn’t know what you wanted to do about the situation, but you were sure that you couldn’t keep going like this.
Your bus stopped somewhere in Germany for the evening, letting you all out to have dinner and do some light sightseeing before regrouping in the morning and heading to Prague. Somehow, that translated to going to a bar to try out German beer for you, Patrick, and a few of the friends you’d made while traveling.
After a brief intermission of checking into your hotel room, your small group met up in the lobby, then set off to find a bar.
Drinking while you were feeling a little upset probably wasn’t your brightest idea. The speed and volume at which you were consuming alcohol was a little concerning, but not nearly as concerning as how much Patrick was drinking. Eventually, even in your drunken state, you realized that you should probably slow down—if nothing else, to take care of him.
But the two of you continued on, going from bar to bar, getting drunk at a level that probably would’ve been acceptable when you were younger, but was certainly going to take a major toll on you now.
Forgetting about the repercussions of the future, you two were having a great time. Despite you being out with a group, it felt a little bit like the two of you were in your own little bubble. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter as the two of you took shots and danced together. Not the people around you, not the fact that you had to be up early the next morning to make it onto your coach, not even the fact that Patrick had implied that the two of you would move on and have families with other people only a few days ago.
By the time that the rest of your group had called it quits, explaining that they wanted to be up and functional in time for your ride the next morning, you and Patrick were still in your own little world. It was only after you’d shared a few drunk cigarettes that the two of you decided that the fun should end, and that it was time to head back to your hotel.
Unfortunately for you, midway through your trek back home, your drinking buddy had given up on walking, leaving you tasked with literally dragging him all the way back to your hotel. While a sober version of yourself would’ve been annoyed by the inconvenience, all you could really think about was how nice it was to have his body so close to yours.
After a tumultuous journey back, the two of you finally made it back to your hotel room. You had only been in the room for a matter of seconds before Patrick collapsed onto the bed and let out a loud sigh of relief, followed by an even louder yawn, as if he was the one who had just carried you down the road.
It was annoyingly endearing.
You had half the mind to at least get somewhat ready before getting into bed, shedding your outermost layer of clothing before joining Patrick in bed.
“Thank you,” he said to you once you laid down next to him.
“Mhm,” you hummed, your head still pleasantly buzzing from the alcohol. “But I’m never doing that again.”
“Aww, why? We had so much fun,” he practically whined. “I always have so much fun when we’re together.”
“I had fun, but you’re so heavy. You’d never guess it. All those muscles,” in the midst of your complaining, you reached over to grab his bicep to demonstrate his point.
He laughed, which made you laugh, though you didn’t exactly know what you were laughing at. Then, out of the blue, he randomly said your name in a very serious tone.
“Can you help me with something?” he asked, sounding very genuine and giving you a look that you couldn’t quite place in your drunken state.
“Anything,” you replied earnestly and meant it. You would probably do literally anything that he asked you to do at that moment. Move a mountain? You’d start pushing. Marry him? You’d wake up an officiant and come up with vows on the spot. Help him hide a body? You were sure you could find a shovel somewhere.
“Can you help me get my shoes off?” he lifted a foot as he spoke to demonstrate his point, a little pout on his lips. You were a little disappointed that he hadn’t asked you for anything else, but you also weren’t quite sure what it was that you wanted him to ask you for.
You groaned playfully, a long and drawn out sound that you hoped would communicate that you were exhausted after dragging him through the city and comfortable where you were laying. Still, you leaned over and untied his shoes before gently slipping them off. When you looked back up at Patrick, his pants were newly half undone and halfway off, but it looked as if he had given up fully taking his pants off.
“Need help with that too?” you asked, though you were already working on slipping the article of clothing off of his legs.
Though you tried to push the thought out of your mind, you couldn’t help but recall a similar night the two of you shared several years ago. Your relationship was still relatively new, but you were already very obviously in love. So in love that you’d gone out of your way to set up a surprise party to celebrate a particularly successful tennis match, decorating your apartment with photos of him with trophies and other tennis paraphernalia and inviting as many of his close friends that you could track down. Still riding the high of winning and his all-consuming adoration of you, Patrick had partied a little too hard, leaving you in charge of tucking him in at the end of the night.
After bringing him a glass of water, the man snuggled into your sheets and slurred out a comment about how they smelled like you. You felt your cheeks warm as he continued on in a disjointed ramble, talking about how much he appreciated you and how no one had ever gone out of their way to make him feel like that before. He ended his monologue with a request for you to help him take his clothes off, and you happily obliged. It was tender and far more intimate than you’d expected, and ended in a drawn out kiss that left you giggling as you told Patrick that he tasted like Smirnoff Ice.
Even as inebriated as you currently were, the nostalgia made you feel a little dizzy.
By the time you’d finished helping him get his pants off, Patrick had clearly given up on getting his shirt off, too. Once again, you moved your hands up his body and helped him out with the piece of fabric.
“Look at that. All ready for bed,” you commented, setting a hand on his bare chest. The small action made your heart soar, and you promptly decided that it was probably better for you to avoid touching him altogether.
“My watch?” Patrick asked, lifting his wrist up to show you the accessory.
“You can take your watch off yourself,” you replied, leaning back into bed and finally laying down.
“Fine.”
“Night, Patty,” you said, reaching over to turn out the bedside lamp.
“Wait,” he paused pensively, as if he was digging deep in the recesses of his mind to conjure up what he was about to say. “A kiss?”
“Patrick!” you gasped, sounding far more scandalized by the proposition than you actually were. Of course you would give him a kiss, you just weren’t sure you were ready to open up that can of worms, especially after you’d had a minor crisis at the realization that he genuinely wanted to move on.
“No goodnight kiss? C’mon. Fully commit to tucking me in,” Patrick insisted, as if it was the most logical thing ever. As if either of you had the self control to not let something as simple as a kiss spiral out of control.
“Fine,” you sighed before pressing a gentle peck to his forehead, figuring that was the safest place to do so. A forehead kiss was about as platonic as it got with you. “Sweet dreams.”
“Thank you,” he said, rather sweetly as his eyes shut. “Love you.”
Those words instantly gave you pause, causing you to suddenly feel very alert and very sober.
“Sorry, what did you just say?”
“I said I love you?” Patrick repeated, looking at you with confusion. “What?”
“Nothing,” though it was very much not nothing. In fact, if his confession was true, it would change everything. “Go to bed.”
“Wait, what?” Patrick grabbed your arm, looking very worried in the low light of the room. “You’re mad. You’re mad that I love you?”
You didn’t even know how you were supposed to react to that admission. While it had been exactly what you’d been dying to hear from him for months, it only further complicated your already very complicated situation.
“I’m not mad, I’m… I’m just tired. Let’s go to sleep, okay?”
Your explanation seemed to placate Patrick enough to let it go and go to sleep. He shuffled around to get comfortable behind you, before pulling you in to hold you as he’d done for the entirety of the trip. Except, tonight, it didn’t feel quite right. The mixture of his frequent rejections of you, paired with his casual confession that he still loved you made your head spin.
The following morning, you woke up with a pounding in your head and a gross taste in your mouth—only one of which, you could fully attribute to the drinking you’d done last night. You clumsily reached for your phone, and found yourself pleasantly surprised to find an announcement about the delay of the next bus you would be getting on.
You got out of bed with a grunt, your entire body aching with the reminder of having to drag Patrick through the city last night. Somehow, the sore muscles didn’t hurt nearly as much compared to the memory of being told that Patrick still loved you.
You slowly paced back and forth around your hotel room, desperately trying to organize your racing thoughts. Did Patrick actually mean what he said last night? Or had been caught up in the heat of the moment? If anything, the latter seemed more likely, since he’d been very obviously trying to distance himself from you. But had he really been distancing himself from you, or just talking about distancing himself from you? If his care for you on the ferry had been any indication of how he really felt about you, it was possible that his drunken words were more honest than you were trying to convince yourself that they were.
Finally, you decided to stop annoying the person staying in the room under you with your increasingly frantic pacing, and to go outside to walk. Some fresh air would be good for you anyway.
“Where’re you going?” a muffled voice, heavy with sleep asked. You paused the tying of your shoes to look over at the bed, where Patrick was currently squinting at you.
“I’m just going for a walk,” you told him. “Go back to sleep. The coach is coming late.”
“Wait for me. I’ll come with you.”
That was probably the last thing you needed or wanted. After all, the whole purpose of your walk was to help you sort out your thoughts about Patrick. To say he wasn’t a welcome addition to your trip was an understatement.
“Okay,” you said anyway, against your better judgment. It seemed like you hadn’t been using much of your judgment at all on this trip. What was one more poor decision on top of a series of poor decisions?
You watched him get ready from where you were sitting, quietly impressed with his ability to get up and be functional despite surely being just as hungover—if not more—than you. He also seemed wholly unaffected by the conversation you’d had last night, which was something that you certainly couldn’t say for yourself.
With sunglasses perched on your nose and the weight of your entire relationship placed on your shoulders, the two of you headed out into the city, walking on the same sidewalks that you’d practically carried Patrick down the previous night.
“Last night was fun,” Patrick commented, making small talk with you as you began to head down the street.
“Some parts,” you agreed, hoping that he’d recall you grunting as you lugged him down the street, rather than your shock when he told you that he still loved you.
“I honestly don’t remember most of the night,” Patrick said with a chuckle that almost sounded a little forced. You couldn’t be sure if he was being honest or searching for a cop out for the things he’d told you before you went to sleep, but you weren’t sure that it really mattered.
“Unfortunately, I do,” you replied.
“Oh no. I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain.”
“You were like, slightly above average in terms of being a pain. Nothing I’m not used to.” You figured that maybe you could banter your way out of this situation. Perhaps if you just pretended that everything was okay, things would magically become okay.
But that didn’t feel alright. In fact, it wasn’t alright. If you ever wanted to improve your relationship with Patrick, you had to stop beating around the bush with him. You were both adults. You’d been together for years, yet you felt like you wasted far too much time not being straightforward with your thoughts and feelings. If there was going to be a next time for the two of you, you wanted things to be different.
“You did say something kinda interesting last night, though.” While it had been easy to talk up a big game in your head, you immediately regretted the words that came out of your mouth. Regardless, it was too late for you to back out.
Patrick laughed nervously before asking, “what?”
“You just… you kinda told me you still have feelings for me, or whatever. I just think, maybe we should talk about it. Or at least talk about us.”
The man next to you paled at your words. Your regret for bringing the topic up immediately grew exponentially.
“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” Patrick said, though he was lying through his teeth and both of you knew it. You wanted to approach this topic with civility and an open mind, but his blatant lie was making that a rather difficult task.
“Are you kidding? We’ve been tip-toeing around it this entire trip.”
“We’re broken up. You called off our wedding. I don’t think it gets any more straightforward than that,” he dismissed with a gross simplification of the state of your relationship.
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. And even if it was, all I said was that I didn't think I was ready to get married. You put the final nail in the coffin when you told me you fell out of love with me. But I don’t know how I’m supposed to interpret you not being in love with me anymore when you still act the way that you act with me.”
You could tell the direction this conversation was going, your discussion quickly veering into argument territory as Patrick began to invade your space as he always did when you argued.
“And how exactly do I act with you?” he challenged, though you were sure he knew exactly what you were talking about.
“Do you want me to give you a list or something?” you asked, his anger becoming contagious.
“Sure, why not,” he said drily.
“Fine. Let’s start with the cuddling, then. Please enlighten me, do you know any exes who spoon regularly? I mean, I certainly don’t. I don’t even touch my friends like that. So I don’t know what that really makes us. Or maybe how jealous you got when you saw me with someone else. I really can’t think of any sort of platonic explanation for that, and trust me, I’ve tried. And while we’re at it, I guess I should mention those showers. I respect the hell out of your faith in the thickness of these hotel walls, but I actually can hear you moaning my name while you’re in there. I’m honestly a little flattered, but I’m mostly confused.”
“Like you’re not doing the same,” Patrick scoffed. You knew him well enough to recognize that he was masking his true feelings with hostility, and though you wanted to engage in an actual conversation with him, you weren’t sure you would be able to take the high road in this conversation.
“Sure, but I’m not the one in denial of what’s going on here!”
“I’m not in denial. Have you ever considered that maybe I want to move on?”
“Do you, though?” you asked, pausing on the sidewalk.
“Clearly, I do,” he stopped right along with you, now really getting in your face.
“Clearly,” you repeated with a laugh. “Maybe you should start acting like it.”
“Maybe you should stop clinging to the past.”
His piercing gaze was unwavering as he waited to read your reaction. You knew how he liked to play this game, looking for an indication of any sort of weakness from you. You refused to give him that, though his words cut deep.
“Okay,” you said calmly, though you were very much not feeling calm on the inside. “Well, thanks for letting me know how you really feel. Or how you think you feel. I don’t really know anymore. And I don’t think you know either.”
PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC
If you had known that telling Patrick that he drunkenly confessed to loving you would’ve broken the already very delicate relationship the two of you had built back up, you never would’ve said anything at all. As it turned out, having some of Patrick was better than not having him at all.
The contempt he now felt for you had become so strong that he didn’t even seem to be able to look at you. He sat next to a different person on the bus to Prague, not even sparing you a glance. When you arrived at the hotel, he made it a point to ask for separate rooms—something the two of you hadn’t done the entirety of your trip. As your tour began, he seemed to make a strong effort to separate himself from you, standing in the back of your group when you were in the front and vice versa.
Usually, even after your worst arguments, you’d been able to find the time to talk out your feelings, but now it seemed like Patrick couldn’t even find it in himself to give you that.
You wanted to be mad at Patrick too. You were mad at him. But you missed him more than you were angry with him, and you yearned to be with him, no matter how crazy his constant antics drove you.
Part of you felt frustrated that your relationship had become so cyclical since your breakup. You weren’t sure you could handle another cycle of fighting to the point of real anger, then making up with your relationship still a little more strained than it was in the past. You just wanted Patrick. Why did things have to be any more complicated than that?
You desperately clung on to any bits of hope that your relationship might persist, coming out of this argument altered, but still existing. You snuck peeks at Patrick while you toured a beautiful castle and tried to bite your tongue until you stopped thinking of how badly you wanted to grab him and joke about his home looking like that castle. You wondered if he wanted to put your initials on a lock and put it on a bridge as much as you did. You wished you could ask him if he missed the warm body in bed beside him the way you did.
But every time you looked at him, he was pointedly not looking at you. As your group paused on the bridge to allow couples the time to make their own locks, Patrick didn’t even spare a glance in your direction. You were sure that even if he did miss you in bed, or wherever else, he would never tell you about it.
You didn’t want it to be over—but you couldn’t keep clinging to hope that it wasn’t.
GENEVA, SWITZERLAND
Getting to view the breathtaking scenery of the Swiss Alps as you sat on a cable car had been a dream of yours for years. What wasn’t included in that dream was dodging the glare of your ex-fiancé as the two of you sat in silence on that very gondola.
Unluckily for the two of you, you were stuck together for the afternoon. Private skiing lessons in the Swiss Alps sounded like a great, even romantic, idea while you were planning the trip, but it was far from romantic now.
The two of you stood on opposite sides of your instructor, the tension between you so thick that in the midst of his safety spiel, he paused to ask if everything was okay between you. After a stilted reply of yes, your instructor looked at you both skeptically before carrying on.
Seeing as Patrick was an athlete who spent his childhood school breaks in Aspen, he was pretty decent at skiing already. Far better than you, a novice who was moving a little bit like a giraffe standing on its feet for the first time.
While it wasn’t your first time skiing—that had been on a family vacation you’d tagged along on with the Zweigs—you certainly were not experienced enough to be keeping up with Patrick, who had the experience and the ego to give even your instructor a run for his money.
It was entertaining to watch him in his element, his competitive side coming out despite the fact there was no competition anywhere to be found. He was significantly faster than you wherever you went, and skied with a confidence that you doubted you would ever be able to exhibit. In the past, this behavior may have been slightly endearing to you, but right now, it was mostly a little annoying.
You and your instructor stood above Patrick, watching him effortlessly glide down the mountain in front of you. If you weren’t so agitated, you might actually have been impressed. As if your instructor was actively reading your mind, he leaned over to say something to you.
“I think he’s trying to impress you,” he said quietly, though the subject of your conversation was an entire slope away.
You nearly choked on your own saliva at the observation. “No way.”
“What do you mean no way?” he laughed. “Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years, and I’ve seen it all. Couples, crushes, friends, coworkers. I know posturing when I see it.”
“Trust me, he could care less.”
He looked at you with a doubting squint. “Why don’t we go down there and ask him?”
“Absolutely not,” you laughed. The thought of asking Patrick anything after the interactions you’d had seemed absolutely ridiculous. At this point, you wouldn’t even ask him what time it was.
“Sorry. Let me rephrase that. That was me telling you that it’s time for you to go down the slope.”
You looked downhill at where you needed to go, noting that it was far steeper than what you’d been practicing on leading up to this point. You had been looking for an excuse to stall going down it, but now that your instructor had said something about that, you couldn’t not go.
After taking a deep breath, you began to go down. Gaining a bit of speed, you also found yourself growing slightly more confident, closing your eyes and feeling the cold air press against your body. While you were enjoying your speed at first, it was quickly growing out of hand, and you began to panic as you realized just how fast you were going. Desperately trying to pull your skis into a V shape to slow down, you were horrified at the realization that you were far too late, and actively heading towards a cluster of trees. You didn’t know what to do other than to accept your fate, and everything had happened so fast anyway that you found yourself tumbling into a tree, a searing pain on your ankle and tailbone as you laid out on the rocky ground.
Everything felt like it was moving slowly and quickly at the same time. One second, you were alone in the snow, and the next, Patrick and your ski instructor were hovering over you, goggles on their foreheads as they looked at you with concern.
“Are you okay?” you were finally able to make out once the slight ringing in your ears had ceased.
“Did you see how hard she crashed? Of course she isn’t fucking okay,” Patrick’s voice huffed, though slightly muffled from your helmet covering your ears.
“My ankle,” you said, as if that gave them enough context. You wondered if they could see the tears beginning to pool under your goggles. The pair looked at your limb, though with your snowsuit covering it, they really couldn’t see much.
“Can you walk?” your instructor asked you.
“I haven’t tried, but I’m gonna go with no.”
“We’re gonna have someone check you out. Don’t worry, they’ll be here soon,” your ski instructor told you. You blinked a few times and mustered all the strength you could to nod.
The longer you sat, the more you began to realize how badly everything hurt. From your head down to your surely swollen ankle, you weren’t feeling too hot. You closed your eyes, suddenly feeling very exhausted. Maybe a quick little nap was exactly what you needed to feel a little better.
“Hey, don’t do that. You hit your head pretty hard when you fell, so you might have a concussion.”
“I don’t, I’m just tired,” you explained, though you didn’t know for a fact that it was true. In fact, with the pounding in your head, you more likely than not had a mild concussion.
“Well, you kinda have to stay awake,” Patrick told you, though he surely knew it was easier said than done. You were surprised when you felt his gloved hand take yours and squeezed your hand softly. “Hey, why don’t you tell us a story?” he suggested, clearly just trying to keep you awake.
“Do you wanna hear the story about how he proposed to me?” you asked the instructor. You weren’t sure why that was the first thing to pop into your head, but it was a long enough story to keep you awake until help arrived. You wished your goggles were slightly less tinted, so you could at least see the scandalized expression Patrick was probably making. You loved when you made him react like that, since the roles were usually reversed.
“Well, yeah. Of course,” your instructor responded with a hint of a laugh. “You guys are engaged?” he directed towards Patrick.
“This is our honeymoon,” you replied before Patrick had an opportunity to respond. You wished you could see the confused look that your instructor was surely making.
“So what happened?”
“When he proposed?” you asked to clarify.
“...Sure.”
“Well, for a little context, Patrick here is a professional tennis player. He’s really good too. So given my athletic ability, as you got to see today, I never really played with him. Like, he would always ask me to just play a fun, quick little round and I would always tell him no. Mostly because I knew he would crush me. I did play a little bit back in the day, but I was nowhere near his level. I mostly preferred to be on the sideline while we dated. I mean, I came to every single one of his games. I’m pretty sure my office introduced remote work to us because of me, since I was traveling all the time to see him.
“Anyway, one day, after a day of buttering me up, and I mean, he was really laying it on thick. I don’t know how I didn’t think something was up,” you laughed as you recalled the day, how Patrick had scheduled a nail appointment for you, then wined and dined you during a very romantic midday picnic. “But he asked me to play a little bit of tennis with him. I think I just thought he spent the day buttering me up so that I would play tennis with him, not that I would agree to marry him, but I digress.
“We get to the tennis court and Patrick’s nervous like I’ve never seen him. He was a little jittery all day, but this was a different beast. Looking back, I really don’t understand why. He should’ve known I was going to say yes. Anyway, we’re playing, and somehow I win, even though I’m extremely rusty and have absolutely awful form. Obviously I knew Patrick threw the match for me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t gonna gloat at him.
“So I’m doing my victory spiel and I walk over to his side of the court, where he’s digging in his bag. He’s so quiet, which should’ve been a sign that something was up, and I’m thinking he’s about to pull out more tennis balls and tell me we’re doing a rematch, so he can really crush me. Instead, he pulls out a box and gets down on one knee. He gives me a speech about how he didn’t care if he never won another game of tennis in his life, because as long as we were together, he was a winner. It was really sweet. Obviously I said yes.”
You finally looked over at Patrick, though you couldn’t perfectly read his expression through the darkened lens of your goggles. You wondered if he felt any of the same feelings that were currently simmering in your own chest. Though, you didn’t get to stew too long, as help arrived just as your story came to a close.
You were taken to an infirmary and given a series of tests, some to see the state of your head and other to see how the rest of your body was doing. Surprisingly, you made it out without too much serious damage. Your ankle was sprained, but nothing that would make it take too long to heal. You had a concussion, which surprised you, given your ability to recall so many details earlier in the day, but it was a very mild one. At least you’d made it back into your hotel in one piece.
You really just wanted to relax for the rest of the evening, and you had plans to do exactly that, when there was suddenly a soft rapping at your door.
You got up, and with help from the crutches you were provided, you hobbled to the door and opened it. On the other side was Patrick, who you were both surprised and unsurprised to see.
“Hey. I got your room number from the front desk,” Patrick told you. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Sure, but I’m probably going to sleep soon,” with some effort, you sidestepped the doorway to let him in.
“Do you need anything? Want anything?” he asked as he made himself at home in your room, evaluating what you already had.
“I’m good, I think.”
“How’re you feeling? They wouldn’t let me see you at the infirmary.”
“I’ve been better,” you shrugged, sitting down on the foot of your bed to take some pressure off of your aching ankle.
“I bet. Are you icing that?” he asked, gesturing to your most obvious injury.
“I haven’t been able to make it out to the ice machine,” you confessed, though the doctor had suggested ice for the inflammation.
“Let me go grab some for you,” he said before disappearing out into the hallway. Once he left, you laid back in bed, letting out a sigh of relief at how much better being flat felt.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like being taken care of this way. It seemed like no matter how bad things got between the two of you, you would always care for one another in some capacity. You wondered what had gone through Patrick’s mind when he saw you hurt yourself. You wondered if that changed anything in the way he felt about you.
He knocked on the door once more to tell you he was back, though the door was already unlocked.
“If there’s anything else you need, I mean anything at all, just call me. I’m just down the hall from you,” he told you as he bagged up the ice he retrieved.
He sat down on the foot of the bed, where you’d previously been sitting, and tenderly set the bag of ice on your ankle, clearly not wanting to hurt you any more than you were already hurt. He looked at you a little sadly before standing back up, not wanting to linger in your presence too long.
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he explained, already turning to head towards the door.
“Thanks, Patrick,” you paused, looking for any other words you had for him. “Good night.”
“Night.”
SOMEWHERE IN ITALY
The next few days in Switzerland had been extremely boring. Due to doctor’s orders, you mainly stayed in bed, avoiding screens by reading books, and looking out the window to view the mountains that you were currently missing.
Although you had to miss a lot of the fun your tour was going on, like a cheese and chocolate tour, you somehow still received an anonymous delivery of cheeses and chocolates—though, you were pretty sure you knew who was responsible for that.
Patrick didn’t seem like he wanted to overstep any boundaries, which you respected, though you really could’ve used some company whose ear you could talk off. Hell, you’d even take another nasty argument over the resounding silence of your room.
Luckily for you, by the time your group was traveling once again, you were starting to feel slightly better, concussion and ankle-wise. Though, your head was starting to hurt from listening to a person at the front of the bus go on about how much they needed the bus to pull over somewhere.
After a period of incessant complaining from someone on your bus, the vehicle finally came to a stop at a small rest stop in the middle of the Italian countryside.
Not willing to pass up an opportunity to stretch your legs, you got off at the stop, briefly stopping inside the building to look at what they had to offer before stepping behind the building, watching the wind blow through the overgrown weeds.
Your attempt at enjoying the quiet, idyllic countryside was disturbed when you were joined by a smoking companion.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said.
Before you could stop it, a sad smile appeared on your face. The two of you hadn’t spoken since your brief conversation in your hotel room, despite the mystery snack deliveries and the promise of coming if you called.
“I’ve been worried about you,” he said plainly.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” you dismissed.
“You’ve spent the last few days all alone in a room with a concussion.”
“It’s mild.”
“You fucked up your ankle.”
“It’s healing. It’s not all that bad.”
“Well, I’ve been worried anyway,” he passed you his partially smoked cigarette and you took a drag from it, though you were sure that was one of the things you shouldn’t be doing with a concussion.
“Thanks, I guess.” you said. “So is this just a wellness check, or…?”
“No, well, yes. Obviously I was worried about you physically, but I also was wondering about how you were in general.”
It was strange to see him clumsily mince his words, given how bold he usually was.
“Oh? What changed between here and Germany?”
“What changed? What changed was that I watched you almost die.”
You laughed aloud at his over dramatization of the event. “Patrick, I did not almost die.”
“How would I have known that? I just saw you flying downhill out of control and crashing and it terrified me. I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”
You weren’t sure how you were supposed to interpret his words, especially after the wild ride you’d been on throughout the trip. You weren’t sure you could handle another emotional bait and switch.
“Pat, maybe we should talk about this later. The bus is probably taking off soon.”
“No,” he stopped you with a hand on your arm, calling you back with a desperation you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I don’t want to waste another second without you.”
“Okay,” you said, though you weren’t sure that you should buy into it yet. “Go ahead, then.”
“I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you or don’t want to be with you,” he confessed, which genuinely took you by surprise. With the way he’d been dodging your attempts at building a connection, you certainly didn’t think he’d tell you something like that.
“Then why have you been pretending?” you asked, hoping that your somewhat harsh words didn’t betray your genuine curiosity behind his behavior.
“I don’t know,” he said. It was a terrible, unsatisfying answer. One that didn’t explain a single reason behind his behavior. “I guess I just can’t wrap my head around the idea that anyone would want to keep me around long-term.”
You looked at him with shock in your eyes, your mouth slightly agape at the confession. You couldn’t imagine Patrick, overconfident, bold, and self-assured, who you’d been dating for years, not feeling secure in your relationship–to the point where he’d been actively trying to push you away out of anticipating how you’d feel about him.
“When you told me you weren’t ready to be with me, it just confirmed everything I’d been worried about—that one day you would wake up next to me and realize that I wasn’t the guy you wanted. I guess it just happened sooner than I anticipated.”
You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “If you felt like that, then why’d you tell me you weren’t in love with me anymore?”
“I thought if you were gonna leave me anyway, I might as well beat you to the punch.”
You were giving it your all to keep it together at this point, feeling slightly vindicated to know that Patrick was lying about no longer loving you, but mostly devastated that your whole relationship had been uprooted over an assumption that Patrick had made about you.
“I… I don’t even know what to say,” you looked out into the grass, then back at Patrick. “I wish you’d stop assuming that you know what I want all the time.”
“Hey you two, last call for the coach,” your tour guide suddenly interrupted, looking very obviously annoyed that the two of you were holding the bus up.
“Sorry. We’ll head back now,” you apologized to the guide. “We’ll continue this conversation later?” you directed towards Patrick.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
VENICE, ITALY
Putting a hold on your conversation probably wasn’t the wisest idea you’d ever had, considering that your next few days in Italy were set to be your busiest this far.
Between gondola rides on different boats and exploring historic palaces, the two of you didn’t have much time to stop and have as serious of a talk as you wanted to have. Even if you did somehow manage to pick up where you’d left off, there were so many people around you that it didn’t even feel worth it.
Luckily for you, your hotel had a private beach attached to it, and as you spent your evening by the beach, watching the sun go down, you were pleased to find that you were joined by familiar company.
At first, Patrick didn’t say anything as he sat down on the same chair next to you. The two of you enjoyed the serene sunset and privacy that the beach afforded you in silence, though you were sure that things wouldn’t stay that way for long.
“I love you, you know?” he finally piped up, breaking the silence with a very bold declaration.
You looked at him calmly, though you weren’t feeling very calm on the inside. You’d been waiting to hear those words from him from the moment that the two of you broke up. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to react to it now, though the confession was better late than never.
“I love you too. I never stopped,” you told him simply, as if the realization that you were stuck on him hadn’t been haunting you for months now.
“I never did, either. It was cruel of me to ever tell you that I did.”
You nodded in agreement, wondering if Patrick would ever understand the full extent of the damage his words had done to you. “It was, but I understand where you were coming from. If I had known that you didn’t think I was going to stick around, I would’ve gone about what I did differently,” you began to explain. “I think it came across as me not wanting to marry you at all. Of course I wanted to marry you. There was just so much else going on in my life then that the timing didn’t feel right.”
“But the timing might be right someday?” Patrick asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice.
“The timing will be right someday. Maybe sooner than either of us know,” you shot him a wink, then broke into a grin as he pulled you into a firm, loving embrace.
ATHENS, GREECE
The rest of your time in Italy mainly consisted of making up for lost time, with the two of you partaking in far more PDA than what was ever necessary and thoroughly documenting your time abroad together as a couple.
Thanks to your injury, you were slightly slower than the rest of your group. But that certainly didn’t stop Patrick from lagging along with you, letting you lean on him for support when you needed it and pausing to sit and take breaks with you whenever you noticed that walking was taking too much of a toll on you.
It was nice to be back with him, to not have to feel stupid for feeling what you felt or feel the pressure of knowing that you should probably be trying to move on. The only unfortunate part was how little time the two of you had left on vacation, with you heading home after spending a few days in Athens. If only the two of you had been upfront about your feelings earlier, then you could’ve been having as great of a time as you were having now during your entire trip.
The two of you briefly floated the idea of having somewhat of a shotgun wedding, but scrapped it after realizing that you would prefer to have your family and friends there to celebrate with you. After all, many of them had been on the emotional rollercoaster that was your relationship right along with you.
For the time being, the two of you were perfectly content with being together, and knowing that neither of you had any intentions of leaving.
Somehow, that made your last few days of vacation feel infinitely better.
ATHENS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
You scrolled endlessly on your phone, sending out a few messages to friends and family to let them know that you were heading back home. While you typically felt a few nerves before boarding a plane anywhere, you couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of excitement, both at the thought of being able to go back home and sleep in your own bed, and at the potential your newly reformed relationship had.
Your scrolling was interrupted by Patrick’s presence, carrying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in his hands with a slightly goofy look on his face.
“Sorry for taking so long. I think everyone and their mother wanted coffee today,” he explained as he sat down, passing you your items as he got comfortable next to you.
“No worries. I’m just glad you were running late to grab us breakfast, instead of trying to switch our seats like last time.”
The two of you shared a laugh before Patrick said, “That feels like a lifetime ago.”
“It basically was,” you dismissed.
Once it was announced that your group was boarding, the two of you stood up quickly, attempting to gather your bearings before getting on the plane.
“‘Till next time, Europe,” you bid the country goodbye as the two of you made your way to the line.
“Should we come back to Europe? I was thinking our next honeymoon should be somewhere else. Maybe Bali.”
“Oooh, Bali sounds nice. I think anywhere warm and with a beach is good,” you explained, though you really didn’t care where you went, as long as Patrick was there by your side.
#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig fic#art donaldson x reader#challengers#challengers fanfic#josh o'connor x reader
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transposition
summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made
pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)
word count: 6.3k+
warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”
“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch.
“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-”
“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation.
“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you.
It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together.
“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients.
“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”
“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”
“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”
He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back.
With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t.
You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying.
“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension.
“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”
“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.
“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-”
“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands?
“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body?
“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you.
“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.
You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”
“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around.
“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself.
“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode.
“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!”
He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room.
“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?”
“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind.
“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare.
“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you.
“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on.
Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.”
“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat.
Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now.
“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling.
“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily.
Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time.
“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.
Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”
“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?”
“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be.
“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him.
“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!”
“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation.
“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”
“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return.
“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean.
“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”
“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again.
“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”
“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face.
“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.”
“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room.
You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes.
“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression.
“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you.
“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug.
“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!”
“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.”
“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.”
“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.”
“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish.
With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen.
“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”
“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?”
“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”
“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!”
“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!”
“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”
“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.”
“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!”
“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen.
“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table.
Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.”
Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort.
Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze.
“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head.
Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite.
“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food.
The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere.
“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin.
You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?”
“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?”
“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.
After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t.
“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly.
You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier.
“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.
“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.”
“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving.
You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle.
“You alright?” you asked tentatively.
“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one.
“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.”
“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better.
He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation.
He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.”
“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word.
You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.
“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table.
“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration.
“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”
“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.”
“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return.
You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.”
Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”
“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation.
“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.”
You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk.
“What does that mean?” you asked curiously.
“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.”
“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.
Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”
You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.
“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you.
“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively.
You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.”
“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.”
“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically.
“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.”
“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.”
“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.”
“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly.
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.”
“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off.
“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.”
“Promise?” you asked meekly.
“I promise,” he said firmly.
“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further.
“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears.
“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly.
“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.
The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.
You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on.
“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously.
“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question.
You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this.
“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter.
The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you.
Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”
Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake.
The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day.
You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there.
You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam.
You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything.
The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore.
Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out.
You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either.
“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs.
“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat.
Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.”
“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion.
“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?”
“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.
“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?”
“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”
You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave.
“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you.
“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards.
“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?”
“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.”
Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”
“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.”
“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”
“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words.
“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward.
“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response.
“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.”
“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.
“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.”
You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name.
“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.”
You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you?
“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.”
“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps.
“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker.
“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.
“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.
“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently.
“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly.
It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated.
“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.”
“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation.
“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?”
“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her.
“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly.
“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.
It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.
“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?”
“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around.
“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!”
Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room.
“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief.
“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar.
You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying.
“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.
“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”
“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly.
“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-”
“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.
“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.
“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.
“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.
You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room.
“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by.
“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car.
The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him.
If he ever decided to open the goddamn door.
“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time.
You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?”
You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward.
He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly.
“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.”
He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.”
“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you.
“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.
“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet.
“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work.
“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.”
“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him.
“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-”
“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”
“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.
“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more.
“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.”
“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat.
“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.”
“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked.
“We didn’t lie, we just-”
“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”
“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly.
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?”
“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?”
“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.”
“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess.
You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?”
He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?”
“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.
“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down.
“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him.
“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?”
“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more.
“You said-”
“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”
“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin.
“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”
You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low.
“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.
As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks.
When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips.
You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.”
“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”
tagging: @winharry
dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika
#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean x you#dean x y/n#dean winchester x y/n#sam winchester x reader#dean x female!reader#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fluff#dean fluff#dean fic#dean winchester angst#dean angst#sam winchester fluff#supernatural fandom#supernatural fic#dean winchester x plus size reader#jensen ackles#jared padalecki#best friend!sam winchester
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better than letting go | nagi seishiro x reader
✩ accidental sugar daddy nagi
✩ pro-player!nagi, roommates au, angst to fluff, heavy pining, miscommunication
"just go live with nagi," reo says offhandedly, "if you clean up after him, he'll let you stay there forever."
you open your mouth to refute the suggestion, because reo knows how you feel about nagi, knows you couldn't possibly stay in an enclosed space with him hours on day on end without jumping him... but before you do, nagi himself interrupts.
"i'm okay with that," he replies in his usual laid-back voice.
you glare at him because you think he sounds more excited about the cleaning part.
"you're going to be homeless," reo shrugs, "why not?"
you return your glare at reo, "why can't you just house me in one of your billion-dollar properties."
"then i'd have to ask my old man for permission," he waves you off like the asshole he is, "no thanks."
"what's wrong with living with me?" nagi wonders, and you hate him for acting like he wants to live with you so badly.
"look, just clean nagi's dirty underwear for the next year while you finish your degree and you won't have to worry about a thing," reo explains, as if there aren't other factors like your five-year infatuation with nagi, and maybe the fact that nagi lives like he doesn't know what a vacuum does.
you sigh, thinking about the end of your lease and the astronomical increase in rent incoming, and how much you don't want to work your stupid part-time job, and give in.
of course it's not that bad. all you had to do was keep your feelings to yourself.
"nagi," you hiss, "nagi, wake up, you're going to be late!"
he only stirs, covers tucked under his chin, as if he's hiding from you. you inch the door wider, stepping into his room hesitantly. he doesn't even make a move.
"nagi," you whine, crouching at the side of his bed.
he makes a sound of acknowledgment but keeps his eyes closed, so you sit cross-legged on the floor, watching his sleeping form. he's so cute like this, you think, yearning.
it's been a week since you moved in with nagi. in a lot of ways, he's exactly what you thought he would be like in private: he's rarely home, and when he is, he's quiet.
you thought he would spend more time in his room, under the covers, but you realize quickly he's furnished his couch with the coziest throw and likes to curl under there when he is home.
it makes your heart warm when you come home to see nagi, his toes sticking out from underneath the blanket, waiting for you to eat dinner.
"...what time is it?" you hear him mumble.
your heart skips a beat when he opens his eyes, groggy with sleep, and touches your arm. you sigh shakily.
"too late," you smile softly at him, "i'll prep your pre-workout so you can take it with you, okay?"
"thanks," he tells you, his voice raspy.
he smiles back at you and reaches out, poking you in the forehead. when you feel his fingers touch your skin, you think you'll drop dead right there.
"are you gonna move out after you graduate?" reo asks, nine months into your arrangement.
you've been avoiding even thinking about it. you're busy with graduation, you justify to yourself, you don't have time to look for a new place yet.
"hm?" you hum innocently, "i dunno. haven't had time to think about it."
"nagi asked me 'bout it," he mentions casually, and you freeze. is he counting the days down until you leave?
you and nagi have settled into a daily routine: you wake him up, he goes to practice, you study after class, and when he comes back late at night, he hangs out with you for an hour before he has to sleep. mostly, you and nagi sit on either end of the couch, sharing the cozy throw, and read manga.
it's lulled you into a false sense of security, you think.
"oh," is all you manage to say. maybe he finds you bothersome? maybe he wants his own space back?
reo hits you over the head, lightly. "what's that face for? it's been going good living with nagi, right?"
and it was. it was everything you had dreamed of, and it shocked you how well you got along with nagi. you think of how, in early mornings when both of you (mostly you) are rushing out the door, bumping hips in the kitchen, even then it seems like you were working together.
"yep," you reply, sipping your iced coffee, "too good."
reo takes a bite of his food, and suggests, "maybe you two should just keep living together. you can split rent or something."
"can't rely on nagi forever," you protest.
"why not?" he says, just like he did when he had first suggested this whole thing, "isn't that what you want?"
you kick him under the table, angry that he was bringing your feelings up now. yes, you want to scream, it is. but nothing has changed between you and nagi, nothing at all.
you're always trying to keep your feelings in check: when he peers over your shoulder as you're cooking, the warmth of his body hot asgainst yours. or how adorable he looks when he comes out of the shower, his shaggy hair falling over his eyes, his face shiny. those are the times your feelings want to burst.
"just talk to nagi about it," reo nudges. you're not sure if he's talking about the housing or the feelings.
you're curled up with nagi on the couch when you muster the courage to say anything. your legs are touching his under the blanket, and you feel as if that might connect you to him.
there's a month left until you graduate, which is absolutely not enough time for you to find a place to live, but you were scared. you hear the victory sounds of nagi's mobile game, so you decide now's better than never.
"so," you start, and his gaze drifts over to you, "i haven't really found a new place to live yet."
it's quiet. "s'okay," nagi mumbles, not even looking up from his phone, "you can move out whenever."
well, at least that answers your question on whether or not he wants you to move out. at least he wasn't pushing you out the door, you tell yourself.
you don't know what else to say. do you want me to leave so badly? you want to ask. can't i stay with you? you think, desperate. but those words don't leave your mouth.
"are you coming to my graduation?" you ask lightly, and regret it when you realize that you've opened yourself up again.
he shrugs. "dunno my prac schedule yet, but reo's going right?" he replies, as if reo could replace him.
you feel cold despite the blanket, and sink deeper into the couch, feeling drained. from the corner of your eye, you see nagi tapping away at his phone, signaling to you that he's still deep in his game. you take your legs away, knowing he wouldn't even notice.
"yep," you say and awkwardly crawl out of your warm spot on the couch. "i'm gonna go to bed first, nagi."
"g'night," he replies, finally looking up as you pass him with your head bowed. he watches you walk back to your room, and doesn't take his eyes off of you until you close the door behind you.
you eventually begged reo to find you an empty unit in one of his father's rental properties.
he had been insistent you just talk to nagi, as if he knew something you didn't, but you had to explain that you did, and nagi had no objections to you moving out, and you weren't going to wait until he shoved you out the door to move on.
it has been so awkward since that small conversation you'd had with nagi. maybe it was you, feeling out of place, like you had reached a point of no return.
waking him up in the mornings were now rushed, gently pushing him awake and scurrying off before he was fully awake. leaving his pre-workout on the counter instead of handing it to him. sitting at the kitchen table under the guise of studying instead of curling up on the couch with him.
it's not that he'd changed, you knew, it's that you couldn't keep playing pretend with your feelings anymore.
you hear the front door click as nagi walks into the apartment.
"hey," he says, pushing open the door to your room, "i'm home."
you turn from your position at the front of your closet, where you were just about to take out your suitcase. "oh, hey," you reply lamely, "welcome home."
he hovers, something he's never really done, as if he knows you have something to say, as if he had something to say. the words were stuck in your throat.
"reo told me you're moving out," nagi finally tells you.
traitor, you curse at reo. "uh, yeah," you smile tightly, "i didn't want to keep bothering you, so..."
"you're not bothering me," he replies, maybe a little too quickly, but you don't notice.
there's another silence. what else can you say?
"you don't have to leave," nagi continues, "i don't mind if you stay here."
but do you want me to stay? you want to ask. the way he says it so casually, as if it didn't matter whether you stayed or not, only solidified your decision to be away from him. at least then you could just be his friend without delusions of sharing a life with him so intimately.
"nah," you try to keep your voice steady, "it's probably better this way."
"i like living with you, though," nagi shuffles his hair uncomfortably as he says it.
you laugh, maybe a little bitterly, "because i cook and clean for you?"
"no," he says quickly, looking flustered, "no, i just like it when you're here."
but why? you want to scream. your heart pounds, because you feel like you're close to something, but at the same time it feels so far. sometimes you're convinced that he knows about your feelings, that sometimes you two are talking about them even though the topic is unrelated.
"it was nice," you settle on saying, as if it wasn't life changing, "but i can afford living on my own now."
"i don't want you to leave," nagi almost sounds like he's whining, and your heart skips another beat.
"why not?" you say, frustrated, breathless, "we can't just keep living together forever."
"what if i want to?" he says, and you feel like the conversation has become out of control.
your mind is racing. what is happening right now, you try to breathe through your nose. what is he talking about right now, you try to ask yourself.
"nagi—" you stop yourself, trying to get a grip, "what are you saying?"
you're looking at him now and you're surprised by the determination in his eyes. it's what he looks like when he's really focused, like he is when he plays soccer.
"i want to live with you forever," he declares, sounding defiant, as if that wasn't what you wanted.
but you're not sure what it means. you only know that five years is a long time to be holding onto your feelings.
"i don't understand," you mumble, staring at the floor, quieter than before, "i love you, nagi. not as a friend. so no, i can't just live with you forever."
you feel him before you see him, his body towering over you. when you look up, he's pouting. he puts his hand on top of your head, gentle, warm.
"why do you look so sad," he wonders, as if he hadn't heard what you just said, "that's why i want to live with you forever, dummy."
you wake up to nagi wrapped around you.
"sei," you groan, turning in his arms to look at his sleeping face, "you're heavy."
he mutters, groggy, incoherent, and you can't help but press a kiss to his nose. his hair is falling all over his face, but your eyes memorize every slope. he squeezes you harder.
"why are you awake so early," he mutters, nudging your chest with his head, "it's my day off."
you soothe your hand down his bare back, feeling the tight muscles underneath your fingers. he works so hard, and his days off are so rare. you wiggle some more, to loosen his arms.
"i know," you smile, "but let me go make breakfast, kay? i'm hungry."
he shakes his head and whines. "no," he refuses, "just go back to sleep."
you relax, unable to tell him no. mornings with nagi often go like this, except that you usually have enough self-control to get him up. but sometimes, you remember what it was like wanting him so bad, that now you remind yourself to enjoy it.
as a partner, nagi is clingy, vulnerable. but he's also determined, and sometimes, the intensity with which he wants you catches you off guard.
"y/n," he calls, his breath hot against your neck, "i'm happy you're here."
you close your eyes, nodding. "me, too."
#blue lock x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi x reader#bllk x reader#yoi's crops 🌱#from: nagi seishiro 🎀
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mistletoe [ s.r ]
Summary:
Spencer accidentally slips to the team that he doesn’t like Christmas, and you take it upon yourself to try and change his mind during one of your bi-weekly movie nights.
WARNINGS: mentions of schizophrenic episodes, mentions of divorce, slight miscommunication
pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader
genre: 99% fluff, tiny bit of angst, two oblivious idiots in love
wc: 4.6k
masterlist!!
a/n: watch someone who doesn’t like christmas, write about a reader who does like christmas 😭 thanks to ml @flowersfromautumn for beta reading this for me 🫶🫶
Spencer Reid was not a Christmas person.
The rest of the team found it a little ironic, especially considering his overwhelming love for halloween, but he wasn’t going to tell them that the reason he hated the holiday season was because his mother’s paranoia spiked during them. He wasn’t going to tell them that the last time he’d tried to do something with his family for the holidays it ended with his mother locking herself in her bedroom for three straight days and Spencer finding a copy of divorce papers half-hidden under his father’s work files.
He wasn’t going to tell the team that the whole month of December felt like a massive dissociation for him every single year to the point where - despite his eidetic memory - he couldn’t remember most of the Christmases of his childhood.
His younger years were enjoyable, at least, he thinks so; Filled with festivities and family-bonding. But as his growth was overshadowed by his mother's battle with schizophrenia, the jingling bells and festive lights brought memories of unpredictable episodes, turning what should have been joyful celebrations into overwhelming anxiety and stress.
The only Christmas he had a clear memory of was the one in 1990, the day he found out that his family was no longer a family at all. That’s a lot for a nine year old to handle, even if his mind preceded his age twice over.
“Spencer?” You knock - kick - at the front door of Spencer’s apartment, right on time for your bi-weekly movie session. “Spencer Reid? Hellooo?”
It takes a minute for Spencer to open the door, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses as he does so. “Sorry I was just-“
Spencer cuts himself off as his eyes meet the large cardboard box in your hand, noting how you’re leaning it on top of your thigh with your leg balanced in the air so you don’t drop it. “What’s that for?”
“You’ll see,” You give him a half-smug smile as you push your way past him into his apartment, dumping the box on his coffee table and shaking out your arms to relive them of the ache of carrying its weight for the last several minutes.
Spencer follows soon after you, pushing the door closed and tilting his head at the box like a puppy who’d just been presented with a ball for the first time.
Its oddly endearing, and you find yourself getting distracted from the box as you take in the way the warm lighting of his apartment cascades over the side of his face, leaving a soft shadow that accentuates his jawline in the most perfect way to make your stomach do a flip in your torso and stir a kaleidoscope of butterflies awry in its wake.
You’re thrust back into reality by Spencer speaking your name, his tone so sweet you’re sure it could give you cavities. “What’s in the box?”
“Oh- right, right yeah uh-“ You peel the tape off of one side of the box, peeling it open to let the two flaps at the top of the box loose. “Okay don’t be mad at me-“
You slowly open the box up to let Spencer look inside it properly. It was completely filled to the brim with a collection of miscellaneous decorations fit for the Christmas season, all neatly packed into smaller boxes and plastic containers, separated with labels on each.
Spencer says your name again as his eyes scan the contents of the box, this time with much less sweetness and much more apprehension.
“Why did you—“
Reid cuts himself off for a second time in the last five minutes as he reads the labels on the smaller boxes, getting caught on one lining the main box’s long side. “You brought a tree?”
It’s a small one,”
Spencer looks at you like you’ve just released a mischief of rats into his apartment.
He was expecting to be sat on his couch with you at his side, devouring cheap take-away pizza whilst indulging in multiple hours of re-runs of Doctor Who. Instead, you’d dumped a box of Christmas decorations on his coffee table which he can only assume you’ll hound him into putting up.
He’d been ambushed.
“You know I’m not really fond of the whole Christmas thing,” Spencer says, running a hand through the fluffy mess of brown hair that you would gladly spend hours with your fingers in if he’d let you.
“I know you aren’t Spencer, but this is the time of year where people are supposed to spend time with the people they care about, I’m not going to let you spend it hauled up in an undecorated apartment by yourself,” You begin to unload the boxes onto his coffee table with a soft sigh.
“It’s just another day,” Spencer’s voice is soft, appreciative of you going out of your way to do something like this for him but also not entirely sure of the point of it. “Besides, don’t you have plans with your family?”
“They’re on the other side of the country Spence, and as much as I love them i’m not taking that trip down, just in case something comes up with the team,” You unbox the artificial tree first, pulling it out of its box and tugging the flattened branches outwards to make it look more tree-like. “So i’m saddled up here for the holidays,”
You move the tree over to a side table next to one of the walls of Spencer’s apartment, the dark green complimenting the olive of his walls.
“Do we really have to do this?” Spencer’s voice is non-confrontational, not wanting to fight with you.
“It’ll be fun I promise,” You blink up at him with those eyes of yours and there’s no way in hell he’s going to be able to say no to you.
Spencer sighs softly, dragging his fingers over his closed eyelids under his glasses before reluctantly opening a plastic container labelled ‘lights’, beginning to untangle one of the strings of lights from the others. “I don’t think I’ve put up a tree since I was around eight or nine,”
“You don’t think?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you continue to adjust the faux branches of the tabletop tree.
“I- don’t actually remember most of my Christmases…” Spencer’s pursed smile fills you with an overwhelming amount of upset sympathy that he can immediately read all over your face. “I was never exactly ‘enraptured’ with it anyway,”
That was a total lie.
Spencer tries to shrug off your concern as he successfully manages to untangle the lights. “Did you know that the first ever rendition of ‘Christmas’ as we know it happened roughly 5000 years ago?”
And there goes Spencer’s distraction technique. He’d always manage to turn the attention away from himself and towards something academic when he was becoming uncomfortable with his own vulnerability.
“It was originally actually celebrated on December 21st as a celebration of the mid-winter solstice, and the Neolithics, or new stone age people, would gather around Stonehenge to have feasts and exchange gifts with each other, even playing music associated with the holiday on bone flutes from the cattle used for the feast.”
A part of you wants to stop Spencer’s tangent, to bring the topic back to why Christmas was such a bad time of the year for him as a child that it caused gaps in his memory despite him remembering the rest of his life down to the most minor of details. But another part of you knows that if it’s that bad, maybe it’s best to leave it be. He’ll tell you when he’s ready to.
“So-“ Spencer rummages around for a few seconds in one of his drawers to pull out some batteries for the lights, then turning a warm yellow once they’re powered, twinkling on and off intermittently. “How do we know what goes where?”
He begins to carefully wrap the lights around the length of the tree down in a spiral, leaving the battery box in the small fake pot underneath the tree. He at least knows where to put the lights.
“We vibe it,” You shrug your shoulders softly at his question as you go back over to the coffee table to retrieve your box of baubles, a mix of red and off white, with a few of them covered in glitter.
“We- Vibe it?” Spencer furrows his expression slightly as he watches you arbitrarily place one of the baubles on the tree.
That was one of the things he remembered about decorating with his parents when he was younger. The tree was organised. And he remembers the arguments that spanned from what should have been a family-bonding activity.
The end result always looked more like one of those display Christmas trees in department stores than a Christmas tree put together by a loving family. But he supposes it makes sense considering the dynamic of his parents.
“Yep, we vibe it,” You pick up a second bauble to hang from the tree. “Just try not to put too many of the same colour in one area otherwise it can look a little dodgy,”
“Right- Okay…” It doesn’t take long for him to get a feel for where the baubles should be going, and he follows your lead in hanging them on the branches.
He’s a lot less stressed than the fragmented memories of his show him he should be as he decorates the small tree with you, and he’s sure it’s because the soft smile adorning your features as you pass him baubles of different colours and sizes houses some sort of black magic that just erases all semblance of negativity from his mind.
After a few minutes, Spencer takes a step back from the tree to look over his work, feeling pretty satisfied with himself, a small smile gracing his features that the warm light of the fairy lights only accentuates, casting a soft glow over his face. “Not bad,”
“Ah-” You hold up a hand as you rifle through the box, pulling out a very obviously handmade tree topper in the vague appearance of a fairy. “One more thing,”
“A fairy?” Spencer takes the topper from your hand carefully, as if he’s afraid of breaking it if he were to hold onto it too tightly. “Who made this?”
“I did-“ An almost unnoticeable flush covers your cheeks as you watch him examine the cone of white card with a painted styrofoam head and yarn for hair, wings cut out of translucent iridescent lining and haphazardly folded into shape over jeweller’s wire. “When i was a kid-“
“It’s adorable,” Spencer’s voice proves his genuinity. He feels somewhat touched by the fact that you still had it. “You’ve been holding on to this for years?”
“Yeah- I usually put it on top of my tree at home but I figured that you’d benefit more from it this year than I would-“ Spencer almost melts at your thoughtfulness. It’s honestly one of the sweetest things he thinks anyone has ever done for him. It obviously meant a lot to you, and yet here you were, surrendering it into Spencer’s care to try and make his holiday season more festive.
“That’s- really sweet of you…” He smiles fondly, gently placing the topper on top of the tree, rotating it slightly so it faces into the main portion of his living room. "It looks like you,"
You laugh softly at the statement, “Vaguely,”
The fairy-topped tree now radiates a cozy warmth in Spencer's living room. The soft glow from the lights and the sentimental touch of the handmade topper seem to transform the atmosphere, creating a space that feels more like a home than just a place to reside.
As you both step back to admire the decorated tree, a sense of accomplishment fills the room. Spencer's eyes linger on the fairy topper, appreciating the connection it holds to your childhood and the kindness behind your gesture.
"We’re not done yet,” You grasp both of his shoulders in your hands for a second, giving them a soft squeeze before heading back over to the box to continue decorating around his apartment.
He smiles at the sight of your enthusiasm. “You’re getting carried away,” Spencer’s tone borders a laugh as you start to scatter decorations around his living room.
You hang a line of gold tinsel along the mantle of his faux fireplace, drape a string of fairy lights over his bookshelf, and hand him small festive table toppers for him to scatter into spaces on his home office, and slowly but surely, his apartment radiates that festive energy associated with the Christmas season.
“You can never have too many decorations,” You shake your head softly at Spencer as he glances over the decorations you’d shoved into his hands.
“But do I really need any decorations?” Spencer sighs softly, slowly putting down the decorations flooding his arms down on his dining table, trying not to sound unappreciative of your efforts.
A little part of him wants to tell you that all of these decorations weren’t really making him feel any better about the holiday season; But he wants to see you happy, even if he has no desire to decorate the place himself.
“It’s just me here,” he adds softly.
“That doesn’t matter,” you tilt your head at him slightly as you retreat back to the cardboard box to retrieve more decorations. “Besides,”
Your eyes catch on a small sprig of mistletoe, and you adjust the wiring to flatten it out properly as you pull it out of the box. “You never know,”
“You expect me to bring someone over here?” Spencer laughs in a mix of astonishment and embarrassment. “Who would I even bring over?”
You respond only with a shrug of your shoulders as you pick up one of Spencer’s dining chairs, carrying it over to the front door so that you can stand on it to comfortably reach the door frame.
“This is way too extra,” he says, looking at the mistletoe that’s now being fastened above his front door as he stands at your side, one hand braced on the back of the dining chair to make sure that you don’t accidentally tip yourself over. “What if I bring someone back and it’s all awkward?”
“You just have an excuse to kiss anyone you think is attractive when they walk into your apartment, sounds like a win win to me,” You hop off of the dining chair once you’re finished, bringing it back to its rightful place under his dining table.
Spencer flushes slightly. “You do realize what you’re saying, right?” he asks. “Like you’re insinuating me going out of my apartment, bringing a random person in here, and kissing them immediately upon entry.”
You give him a pointed look that silently tells him that he’s reading too much into it as you pack up the rest of the box, satisfied with your work. “It’s about time you got some lovin’ Spence,”
It’s not like he doesn’t agree with your sentiment, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not extremely flustered.
“I’m not sure anyone is interested,” He says that like he hadn’t almost had a fling with a hollywood actress a few years ago, like he didn’t constantly have women fawning over him during cases, like you weren’t completely head over heels for him to the point where you’d gone out of your way to spend your saturday night decorating his apartment for Christmas to try and make his holiday season a little more enjoyable.
This man had to be the most oblivious profiler in the FBI; And it made you want to cup those beautiful cheeks in your hands and kiss those beautiful pink lips until his beautiful brain understood just how wrong he was.
Spencer clears his throat at his own awkwardness as he tries to move the topic of conversation away from his love life, his eyes flickering around the main room of his apartment. “I uh, you did a good job with the decor,”
“Thank you, thank you,” You oblige to his change of subject with a dramatic bow, fearing you’ll implode if you think about how obliviously attractive Spencer is any longer.
“Now we can watch a movie,” You move the, now thankfully much lighter, box off of the coffee table to give a clear view of the television from Spencer’s couch. “A Christmas movie.”
Spencer’s eyes widen a little bit as you mention watching a Christmas movie. “Is that something I can opt out of?”
“No?” You give him a look of mock offense as you push him over to the couch to sit down, and he reluctantly obliges with a sigh. “It’s a movie night, and it’s the middle of December, we have to watch a Christmas movie, it’s a rite of passage,”
He’s never been a fan of any of the cliche christmas movies, even if they’re supposed to be cheesy and fun.
He’s willing to compromise, though. For your sake.
“Can it at least be a good Christmas movie and not something that has a plot that was clearly written by the Hallmark Channel?”
“We’re watching the Grinch duh,” You furrow your expression as if the movie choice is obvious, handing him the remote as you grab your satchel bag and hurry off into the kitchen.
“I will be back in like two minutes, don’t even think of trying to escape from this,”
“I’m not going anywhere don’t worry,” Spencer sighs with a soft smile as he watches you disappear around the corner. Even if the Grinch movie doesn’t sound like his cup of tea, he’d do just about anything for you.
He scours through Netflix as you busy yourself in his kitchen, and you waltz back out a few minutes later with a small tray housing two steaming mugs and two plastic wrapped candy canes, placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “Et voila,”
Spencer doesn’t have to ask to know what the mugs hold, he can smell the chocolate from his seat. “Alrighty then, christmas movie time it is,”
Spencer watches as you make yourself comfortable next to him, crossing your legs and draping a throw blanket from the arm of the couch over your legs, and it’s hard not to look at you and think about how comfortable it would be for him to lie with his head in his lap with your hands running through his hair. The idea makes him all flustered, and he hides his flush behind his mug as he takes a sip of his drink.
“You’re sure that we can’t just watch Doctor Who like we were supposed to?”
All it takes is a small slump of your shoulders at his question and Spencer’s resolve quickly melts like snow in the sun.
“Alright, you win,” he sighs. “I’ll watch the Grinch.”
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to Spence,” You concede defeat at Spencer’s disinterest in watching the film. You’d already forced him into decorating and you were starting to feel guilty for forcing all of this onto him.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Spencer shakes his head softly at you. You’re sharing something that you enjoy with him, who is he to shut you down? Especially considering how many times he’d over shared about his own interests. “It’s only two hours,”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
“Why did the Grinch’s heart grow three sizes?” Spencer asks, his eyebrow raised as the credits play. “I don’t get it.”
“it’s a metaphor Spence, it doesn’t actually grow three sizes,”
“I know it’s not literally growing,” Spencer dead-pans. “I’m just wondering if there’s a reason why they put three specifically.” He seems to be looking for some deeper meaning in watching this movie, even if he’s not really engaged with it.
“Like is the Grinch’s heart growing meant to be a sign of him becoming a better person?”
“Yeah, because at the beginning it was two sizes too small, so if it grows three sizes, now he has a ‘big heart’ that’s full of love and empathy and all that stuff,”
Spencer’s gaze burns into you as you explain the metaphor to him. It’s not an ‘i’m trying to really understand this‘ gaze, but rather a ‘I’m engaging in something you enjoy and trying to understand and you’re so perfect when you talk’ gaze.
“Like, he’s realising ‘hey Christmas isn’t so bad when you have people who love and care about you to spend it with’,”
“Is that what Christmas is to you?” Spencer asks, his tone genuinely intrigued. “A way of spending time with the people you love?”
“Yeah-“ You give him a small nod, joined with a yawn as you stretch your arms up above your head. “That’s the whole point of Christmas,”
Spencer smiles warmly at you, although he’s not entirely sure whether it’s because of how you describe what Christmas means to you, or because when you stretch you scrunch up your nose like a cat would. “What now?”
“I should probably head home and stop bothering you with my overwhelming desire for christmas to just happen,” You let your arms fall back to your sides with a satisfied sigh, glancing at the grandfather clock Spencer has against his wall. 12:25. Looks like you spent longer decorating than you thought.
“It’s pretty late,”
“Yeah, it is,” Spencer follows your eyes over to the clock, hiding his subconscious disappointment over your inevitable departure as you retreat to his front door to put your shoes on.
“Let me escort you to your car,” he says quietly, following after you. “It’s dark outside.”
You chuckle softly at his offer, leaning your shoulder against his apartment door and lifting up your legs one at a time to tie your shoelaces. “You really don’t have to Spence it’s alright,”
“I want to,” His tone is soft, and you can’t help but notice that he cuts off his sentence abnormally quickly as if his words got stuck in his throat, and as you drop your left leg back down to the floor and turn your head to him, you notice he’s not looking at you, but above you.
Your eyes follow his up to what he’s looking at, catching on the mix of white and green fauna directly above your head.
Oh-
You’d royally screwed yourself over. God damn it. The night was going so well.
As you follow Spencer’s gaze, he immediately becomes distracted by the way your eyes are looking up at the mistletoe above you, glistening softly under the warm lighting in his apartment, and he almost implodes because god damn is your face gorgeous when you’re all flustered.
“Did you know that mistletoe was originally used by ancient celtic druids as a symbol of good luck to protect against evil spirits?”
There’s that distraction technique again. Although, his tangent is much more of a ramble as his eyes examine the mistletoe above the door as if it’s an exhibit in a museum.
“The Greeks also used mistletoe as a medicine for almost every ailment you can think of, from cramping to epilepsy and even poisonings. The custom of kissing underneath mistletoe wasn’t developed until the 1700s when victorians-“
“Spencer stop.”
He does ask you ask immediately, blinking at you as his eyes snap downwards towards your face, his expression a mix of hurt and embarrassment. “Oh- I- I’m sorry I didn’t-“
“Just-“ You put your hand up in front you effectively halting his attempt at an apology. “Stop speaking,”
“Right… I’m sorry…” Spencer purses his lips together, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he’s sure it’ll bleed.
He didn’t want to make the situation uncomfortable. That was quite literally the last thing he wanted to do. God, what was he thinking? Why did he let you hang that god damn plant above his door?
“I’ll- you-“ He takes a sharp breath in, closing his eyes for a second. “I’ll see you on Monda-“
He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence as you again stop him from speaking, but not with a raised hand or a verbal signal.
No. Instead, his words are ripped of the chance to be spoken by a tug on the collar of his t-shirt and a gentle pressure against his lips.
Spencer can’t help the widening of his eyes as your lips press against his, nor can he stop the gasp that escapes his mouth as you effectively swallow his apology with your lips.
Those soft, perfect lips that Spencer had been dreaming about for god knows how long.
No, he knows exactly how long. 1,472 days, 6 hours and 15 minutes.
The sharp tick of the grandfather clock cuts through the soft silence between you.
1,472 days, 6 hours and sixteen minutes.
He effectively melts in your affection, the feeling of your hands sliding into his hair at his temples, the subtle taste of mint on your lips from the candy cane you’d been eating whilst watching the movie.
And the heat, oh, the heat.
He never knew one person could be this hot, this warm.
Spencer’s hands go to your waist as he gently pulls you further against him, his eyelashes fluttering softly as they fall closed.
You're kissing the man of your dreams. And enjoying every second of it.
And the best part? He's enjoying it just as much.
“Merry Christmas Spencer…” Your words are little more than a whisper as you mumble them against his lips, your thumbs tracing slow lines in front of his ears.
Spencer can’t help but gasp softly at the weight of your words, and this time not because you’d caught him by surprise, but because he's completely lost in you.
He’s starting to understand the Grinch metaphor you were explaining to him earlier, although his heart doesn’t feel like it’s growing three times over. It feels as though it’s growing ten times over. A hundred times over. That it might burst out of his chest with just how much he was feeling in this moment.
"Merry Christmas..."
He whispers your name softly, barely able to get it out over the slight quiver in his breathing.
This was the best Christmas present he’d ever gotten.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#erotomania#mgg#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds angst#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff
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[TEASER! ] it's cupid, stupid! | lhs
synopsis -› To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?
pair -› golden boy!heeseung x fem-pres!reader
release date -› who even knows...maybe by june...
genre -› fluff, mutual pining, hurt/angst, slow burn i fear, bakery au, summer au, post highschool au
trope -› (slightly one sided) enemies to lovers
wc -› currently 6.7k! probably will be 10-15k
cw -› food mentions, a self indulgent characterization of my grandmother but she’s also everyone else’s in this fic, cursing, oh the miscommunication trope...sorry not sorry.
a/n -› even though i tried keeping food descriptions vague, i used the experience i had with my own grandma and her cooking to influence the way y/n grandmother cooks and the way it’s described so it might not be accurate for everyone! i understand not all cultures include baked goods with starches (since I mention a lot of flouring surfaces) so pls be kind to me :( ALSO!! i haven't written in MONTHS don't hate the writing pls we are all just in this fanfic hell tgt
© all rights are reserved to mygnolia 2024. republished, translated, and/or heavily referenced work will be reported and removed immediately.
Lee Heeseung might only have eleven characters to his name, but they spelt trouble in forty different ways.
It starts with the same old Lee Heeseung spilling his applesauce on you in the first grade, with his cup of mushy lukewarm grossness splattered across your new pants with glittery stars on them. You shriek when it happens, frantically wiping off the mess and yelling at his Lightning McQueen lunchbox with all of the bottled up rage a seven year old can have. His eyes are wide, but all his friends laugh and say girls are so angry all the time, so he stops himself from apologizing. Which, you think his friends were being a little rude to all girls alike, but what mattered was that Lee Heeseung never ended up saying sorry.
But that’s just one way of saying it. He hit you in the face with a ball, ran into you when your knee was scraped and you almost were bursting into tears, and tripped you in the lunch line.
Did the universe hate you, or did he?
You figured it was the latter.
Heeseung’s been stuck to you your entire life with some extra strong adhesive that you can’t seem to get off. You wish you could get some of the same glue that stuck you two to the hip and attach his tongue to the nearest streetlight, but things almost never worked in your favor. If you could catch him, just once, like one of the dumb boys who lick frozen poles in winter, you’d be satisfied.
The blackmail would trump any sort of Heeseung related adversity your elementary grade self had to deal with.
Unfortunately, the years have rendered you no protection against him, and in the small victories you find yourself in, you also see Heeseung right next to you. The exam you aced was topped by Heeseung with a 98%, just a bit higher than your 96%, and it couldn’t even feel good to talk about it because you knew all your friends talked about was how he did better.
There was no accomplishment anymore when Heeseung was around.
Heeseung was perfect in everyone’s eyes, a golden boy in their praises and a role model for their parents. If people didn’t want to be with Lee Heeseung, people wanted to be Lee Heeseung. That? That was something you hated. How could people want to be someone who you couldn’t stand?
“Have you seen the scissors?” Heeseung asks out of nowhere, startling you from the doorway.
Reaching for the ones you used to cut the parchment paper with, you hand the pair to him and with a mumbled ‘thank you’ he leaves.
In an odd way, you’re stunned by the silence that follows. A “you suck, _____!” would be more in character for villainous Lee Heeseung than whatever just happened. But you’re way too occupied with the bakery, and go back to cutting squares in the matcha cake.
It’s the same for the next hour until the rush ends and you get a bit more time to yourselves between orders. Heeseung agrees to wash the dishes and you clean the tables to the sound of your playlist from the speakers.
“You have good music taste.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he emerges. He wipes his hand on a white towel and you stare at him, utterly puzzled. Where’s the malice? Where’s his snarky comments?
“I’m waiting for you to tell me it’s not as good as yours, or something along those lines.” You deadpan.
Heeseung rolls his eyes. “I’m not that mean, I can give a compliment or two when I feel like it.”
“Oh, poor Lee Heeseung only has so much room in his heart to compliment people. How thankful should I be that you spend your daily supply of niceness on me?” You quip, cleaning off the tables. Your chest feels light and you don’t feel as angry as you did this morning.
Blame it on the lack of sleep.
“I think you should be bowing down to me and only talking when I tell you to.” He jokes, and when you glance up, there’s a semblance of a smile on his face. “Anyways, when are you leaving?”
“Whenever you leave.” You tell him, shrugging.
“Well, I stopped my your grandma’s house earlier.” Ah, so that’s where he went. “She said she didn’t want you to stay too late but she also wanted me to take you home, and I think she’d throw a fit if you didn’t.”
“I’d die before getting into a car with you, Lee Heeseung.”
“If I had to get into a car with you, that’s how I’d personally die.” He responds lightly. You furrow your eyebrows and rack your brain for some sort of retort that hurts Heeseung’s pride, but nothing comes up.
“My driving skills are very good, I’ll have you know.”
He jabs, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
—
there is no taglist i'm lazy and i might not write for a while if u likey pls reblog or save into ur mental archive hehe ty- ren
#heeseung#heeseung x reader#heeseung enhypen#heeseung fluff#heeseung imagines#heeseung oneshots#enhypen#enhypen au#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#enha#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha imagines#enhypen scenarios#heeseung enha#engene#enha heeseung#enhypen heeseung#lee heeseung#lee heeseung x reader#lee heeseung imagines#lee heeseung fluff#lee heeseung x you#heeseung smut#enhypen smut#lee heeseung smut
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Oh Baby, You - svt smau
The birth of your son three years ago was what caused your breakup with Wonwoo, your longtime (and at that point, long distance) partner. Now, you're getting concerned that Orion is starting to look a lot like his dad, but that's not your only problem. Wonwoo is back… and he's living across the hall.
Genres: smau, romance, drama, comedy, angst, single parent au
Pairing: jeon wonwoo x afab they/she reader x mystery member(s)
Warnings: coarse language, conversations about sex, mentions of pregnancy, mama/mom/mother is used to refer to reader's parental status sometimes, infidelity, light alcoholism, miscommunication as a plot device, some of the teenies are not so nice at times, slut shaming, angst, everything is unrealistically dramatic because this is basically a kdrama in text/twitter form. warnings may be updated as they come, but I will label chapters properly if it's anything major
Note: unfortunately, I did have to make the mc for this series have female reproductive organs because, well... that's the plot. I couldn't find a good way around it :( if anyone reading this is discouraged, please know that pretty much every other fic I've ever posted is gender neutral. So, if you think you might've liked this smau, please check out my masterlist! hopefully there will be something you like there :) ALSO! if anyone makes fun of Orion's name just know that it's the name of a precious baby cousin of mine and if you bully smau Orion you are bullying irl Orion!! do not touch him!!!
(new!) Updates will post when I have the time and motivation
The taglist is full! Leave a comment under the post linked here if you're not on the main taglist to be notified when Oh Baby, You is completed.
Profiles I: Orion's Prettyboy(gn) Posse
Profiles II: Wonwoo's Famous Friend and the Other Guys
Profiles III: Gyu and the Rise of Capitalism
1. Everybody Loves Vernon
2. Tens Among Tens
3. Grown Ass Men
4. I Hate This FUcking Family
5. The Ones Keeping Secrets
6. A LITTLE Curious
7. You Go Girl Get His Ass
8. The Calm
9. The Storm
10. It's Been a While
11. Fucked Up Coincidences
12. Not... a BAD Guy
13. Still So Affected
14. Just My Type
15. Nothing to Hide
16. Fists Up
17. Act Natural
18. Girl, They Blocked You
19. Plot Relevance
20. Actually it is a Date
21. It's All Pretty Confusing
22. Scripted
23. All it Takes is a Smile
24. Yoon Jeonghan is Watching
25. Completely Surrounded
26. No Such Thing
27. What Does That Mean
28. A Name I've Heard Recently
29. Can't Risk It
30. Errand Day
31. One Day at a Time
32. Confrontation
33. Not Looking to be a Parent Any Time Soon
34. What if I
35. For This Little Guy
36. Get Blocked
37. I'll Take Care of You
38. Messed Up, Stupid, and Jaded
39. You Fucked Up
40. That's For You to Figure Out
41. Need to Try Something
42. Recovery Mission?
43. Your Everything
44. You're Cute When You're Like This
45. Not Sponsored
46. This is Nothing
47. Promise? Promise
48. Hhrk
49. A Busy Afternoon
50. Cherry
chapters loading...
51. Don't Freak Out
52. Bad Guys
OBY Ask the Characters Game
#seventeen smau#jeon wonwoo smau#seventeen social media au#svt smau#svt social media au#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#jeon wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo scenarios#jeon wonwoo imagines#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo imagines#svt scenarios#svt imagines#svt x reader#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#wonwoo smau#wonwoo social media au#jeon wonwoo social media au
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Hi hi hi I’ll take one leo birthday cake because we are leo baby twins with the prompt “you bought me flowers?” And Spence as a character. But since we are leo babies can I add a sprinkle of enemies to lovers co-workers??
grecy love, i am so so sorry this took so long to post 😭 i had every intention of posting this on your birthday and then writer's block happened and depression happened and health problems happened and it was a whole thing 😭💔 but i hope you enjoyed what i whipped up!! 🫶🏻
"Birthday Bouquet" ~ S. Reid
pairing: autistic!spencer reid x gn!reader
summary: "of two things you were certain: the first, you couldn't stand spencer reid; the second, he was the only person who remembered your birthday."
word count: 1,516
warnings: a lil angsty with a hint of miscommunication trope, mild swearing, i believe that's all!
genre: angst to fluff
extra notes: the end of this was rushed i won't lie, i pray you can all forgive me for that lol; the dividers in this post are from @anlian-aishang as always 🫶🏻
beta read by: @theghouligan and @dungeons-are-too-cold (love you both so so much 🥰)
birthday bash | masterlist | ask box
🧁 Leo Baby Birthday Cake - send me a character + a prompt from this list and i'll write you a blurb!
Of two things you were certain: the first, you couldn't stand Spencer Reid; the second, he was the only person who remembered your birthday.
You tried to cut your colleagues some slack. You were away on a case, after all. Everyone was probably busy dealing with their own shit, not to mention how rough it had been the past 48 hours working on the case. But still, not a single person had so much as wished you a happy birthday, and it wasn't until he caught you alone at the hotel that Spencer said anything.
After a long day of geographical profiling and visiting dump sites, all you wanted was to take a long shower and sleep as much as you could before another long day tomorrow.
At this point, you weren't sure if you even cared about your own birthday anymore. A full night's sleep was the only thing on your birthday wishlist currently. But when you walked into your hotel room and spotted that vase of red and white tulips, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
Clearly, someone had remembered, you just weren't sure who. So, naturally, you picked up the card, brows furrowing as you registered the all-too-recognizable chicken scratch handwriting on the back of it.
"These variegated flowers are one in a hundred thousand, but you are the only one of your kind. Happy birthday." - S. R.
Your heart flipped as you processed the words, a happy but surprised tear threatening to fall from your eye.
"Do you normally leave your door open for strangers?"
You turned to face Spencer, his signature sideways smile tugging at his lips. "You bought me flowers?" you asked in shock, your eyes meeting his.
He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I did," he admitted, eyes darting away shyly, "Happy birthday."
The exhaustion of the day must've had you unsure how to properly respond, because the next thing you knew, you were forcing back tears that were beginning to sting behind your eyes, and motioning him into your room. After he closed the door, you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. "You know, you're the only person who's told me that today."
His sideways smile quickly turned into a frown. "I'm sorry, Y/N." From what you could tell, he seemed sincere, which felt strange since he otherwise seemed to hate your guts.
You simply shrugged, deciding the pain was easy enough to deal with without his help. "I can't believe you remembered."
He gave a soft nod of his head. "Of course I remembered."
"I honestly thought you'd be the last person to remember. Although, you do have that eidetic memory, so-"
"I remembered," he corrected. "Actually remembered. I made a conscious effort to remember."
Your brows furrowed, confusion swirling around in your mind and muddling your thoughts. You wondered why Spencer, your sworn enemy, would take the time to remember your birthday? Why would he allow even the smallest of crevices in his brain to be consumed by thoughts of you?
"What? I thought you hated me…" your voice trailed off, your eyes darting to look at the flowers, the ground, anywhere but his gaze.
You could almost hear the hurt and confusion in his voice when he spoke again. "I never hated you. If anything, I always thought you hated me."
You sighed, figuring you might as well tell him the truth. "I did. I mean, you're always correcting me. You won't even look at me half the time. I don’t think you’ve ever accepted one of my hugs or even a handshake for that matter. And just last week, when I tried to offer you one of my crackers from the vending machine, you looked like you were gonna throw up. I mean -"
"Y/N," he said with a soft chuckle. Your gaze shot up to meet him and that familiar look of discomfort took over his expression.
"Why are you laughing?" you asked, confusion racing through your mind.
"Because," he laughed again, a little louder this time, "I never hated you, Y/N. I just… I'm autistic."
You looked away again with slow blinks, burying your face in your hands. Embarrassment and guilt filled your gut, and you were honestly unsure how you hadn't connected the dots sooner. "I'm such an ass."
He pulled your hands away from your face, and you were quite shocked, considering how much the man hated physical touch. "It's okay. You couldn't have known. I don't really tell anybody because some people think it'll slow them down on the field or in the office."
A pout formed on your lips at the thought. Sure, you were sworn enemies with the man—or so you'd thought—but you could never imagine someone being mean to him like that.
Your hands fidgeted as you thought about what to say next, but if you had to be truthful, you weren't really sure what you could say. You wanted to kick yourself for being an ass, for creating an environment where Spencer felt like he couldn’t be open with you. But mostly, you currently wanted to kick yourself for noticing how pretty he looked at that moment.
"You still there?" he chuckled, hands sliding into his pockets.
Your shoulders shrugged again as you brought yourself back to reality. "Yeah," you answered, probably a little too quickly. "Um, thank you for the flowers, they're lovely."
In a couple swift motions, you were all but shoving him out of your room. "Wait-" he began to protest as you started to close the door.
"It's late, we should sleep. Not together!" you panicked over your words. "I just mean we should both get some sleep before the flight home tomorrow. In our own respective rooms. Our respective rooms in this hotel, that is. Obviously you can't go home and rest in your bedroom. That's what the flight is for!" With every word that flew out of your mouth, you cringed harder. Finally, you settled on telling him, "Good night, Reid," before finally getting him out the door.
Your back rested against the now closed door, fingers sifting through your hair as you attempted to collect your thoughts.
Why would you think Spencer of all people was attractive all of a sudden? Up until two minutes ago, you thought he hated you. Up until two minutes ago, you hated him too.
Or maybe that's just what you'd been telling yourself…
A subtle tap against the door had you coming up for air yet again. You made a mental note to tell your therapist about your sudden bout of brain fog.
As he did before, Spencer stood on the other side of the door, hands fidgeting and eyes struggling to maintain contact with yours.
"Can I kiss you?" he all but blurted out.
Either this was a dream or your ears deceived you. There was no way Spencer Reid, the guy who wouldn't even shake hands with people, wanted to kiss you. Or wanted to kiss you. "What?"
"You just… you look really pretty and you seem nervous, and kissing actually produces endorphins, which help relax the body. Although, I guess hugging works the same way, but kissing spreads less pathogens than hugging, and- now I'm rambling, aren't I?"
He must've caught the nervous giggle you were struggling to hold back. "Yeah, you do that a lot. But it's okay. It's kind of endearing."
His face went fully red at your comment. "So… is that a yes?"
You gave him a nod, though you couldn't shake the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. Your hands moved to his cheeks, pulling him down for a slow kiss. It felt like electricity pumping through your veins, butterflies swirling around in your tummy, and just about every other cliche you could think of. His kiss was intoxicating, and if you hadn't needed to come up for air, so to speak, you probably would've stayed there like that all night.
He leaned his forehead against yours, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "Woah," he exhaled with all the amazement of a kid at an amusement park.
"Woah," you copied. You couldn't help the smile that appeared on your lips. "I can't believe that just happened."
"Me either," he admitted with a nervous shrug. "But… I wouldn't mind doing it again."
You let out a shaky exhale, resting your forehead against his. "Well, for future reference, you don't have to ask. That was… woah."
"So, I can just-"
Without warning, he pulled you in for another kiss, and the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach multiplied tenfold.
He pulled away, scratching at the back of his neck. "Sorry. I just really enjoyed that."
You gave him a soft smile as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer for a soft hug. "I did too."
"So I can just keep kissing you? Over and over? As much as I want?"
You nodded against his chest. "That's the plan now, I guess."
"Woah."
You giggled against him, warmth filling you from head to toe. "Woah, indeed."
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ROCKLAND — P.SH
synopsis: almost like a nightmare, park sunghoon plagues your present just as much as your past regrets had done. however, this time around, you and him decided to right your wrongs one last time.
pairings: non-idol!sunghoon x afab!reader
genre: exes to lovers, miscommunications, angst, second chance romance
warning(s): profanities, brief mentions of smoking, drinking, partying and alcohol
wc: 8k
a/n: i'm BACK. this has been in the works for far too long because of the constant writer's block so i'm not sure if it's good or not, plus it's my first exes to lovers so please be nice <3 greatly inspired by gracie abram's "rockland", so do give it a listen too! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx
masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.
If there was one thing you’d regret forever in this lifetime, it would be ending things with the love of your life.
You admit it, you’re selfish. Selfish for wanting to leave the town you grew to hate, selfish for prioritising yourself and chasing your dreams, choosing to leave the people you loved instead. Painted a villain in the eyes of many close to the person you once went home to and even the man himself. But, how could he fully blame you when he was equally selfish too?
Park Sunghoon thought keeping you in the cage of this small town was going to make him a happy man. He often fantasised about the possibility of you and his future together, completely pushing aside the thought of you leaving, until it actually happened.
He was angry. He let himself be consumed by his own feelings and mindlessly projecting his anger and blame on you, while you regretfully did the same.
Pools of tears and venomous words spewed out of impulse left you scarred and broken down. It was a bad ending that you’d see in movies coming to life. The moment you had everything packed and goodbyes said, you figured leaving was for the best, now that your ex hates you and his friends who probably felt the same.
It was a shame, though. Heading to somewhere far from home with a heavy heart knowing you didn’t have the chance to see him once more. Frankly, you were a coward, and so was he.
That explained why returning back home was the scariest thing you had to face in a while.
It was ironic, wasn't it? Coming back to the place you wished for years to escape and actually doing so, but eventually having to return after you dropped out of the college that you've been praying and praying to get into, only for it to be overwhelming and the city lights couldn't compare to the starry night of your hometown.
You suppose you got the thing you wanted, but it just wasn't what you imagined.
Freshly twenty-two and out of school, you figured home was what you needed in your next step before deciding if you should re enrol. However, you find yourself not having the guts to face your family and friends, not after the promises turned out to be empty.
"You should quit smoking,"
Yunjin, your cousin and practically your closest friend growing up, was just a distance away when you spotted her, leaning against her car with a cigarette in hand. You found it amusing how she didn't cave into vapes instead in this day and age.
"Y/N!" She pushed the bud of her half smoked cigarette into the wall, then started jogging towards you, her dress flowing in the wind and boots making obnoxious clicks against the ground. There was a sense of relief in her eyes, her usual smile that you missed graced your presence. "God, I missed you, things aren't the same without you here,"
In the span of a few seconds of her hug, you took the chance to digest her words. Did that mean the traditions you've upheld are now gone? Parties, trips to the beach, all those?
"What?"
Yunjin pulled away, still managing a small smile. "I don't think things were ever the same since you left … and after you broke up with Sunghoon,"
You blinked, looking away into the distance. "I don't think I'll be welcomed,"
Yunjin scoffed, slapping your arm and scurrying to get your bags. "Don't say that! So not true. Everyone in the family is waiting for you to be back—"
"And talk behind my back about my failure in graduating? Yeah, no,"
‘‘That’s not going to happen,” Yunjin sighed, struggling with your bags and declining your help, but you still forcefully grabbed some knowing she’d eventually crumble. “I think they’ll get it,”
Would they?
Once you are settled into the car, bags successfully loaded into the trunk, you let yourself melt into the comforts of Yunjin’s passenger seat, finally getting to close your eyes and drift away. You thought it was best before having to face everything and everyone once again.
“What’s your plan now, anyway?”
Without opening your eyes, you envisioned a distant image in your head. “Take my time off and see if I’d like to re enrol or not. If I don’t, I’ll just go plan B,”
“Which is?”
“Accept the job offer in London,”
Yunjin almost hit the brakes out of shock, the news that came from you felt like it had hit her in the face, but somehow, she managed to keep her cool and not get you both killed. “What?” she shrieked.
“What?” you questioned back, sounding nonchalant as if this was just another normal offer that didn’t seem particularly significant. But it was.
“You have a job offer in London and you’re coming back here,”
“I left the city for a reason, it’d be stupid to go to another one right after,”
Yunjin exhaled, blinking in stupor. “Right,”
“How’s … everyone?”
Yunjin knew you weren’t referring to your family. Of course you’d know how your own family was doing, that’s a no brainer. What you were trying to mean was your old friend group. You couldn’t blame them for being mad at you, after all you were only a part of it because of Sunghoon.
“Heeseung’s graduating soon,” this was the first update you’ve gotten from Yunjin after those years away. It took you every will not to ask her about them, but here you were now, finally giving in. “They’re still the same, nothing’s changed,”
“What about him?”
Yunjin seemed hesitant, obviously holding back something that she didn’t want you to know. “I’m not going to explode upon hearing, you know that, right?” you joked lightheartedly, but secretly dreading hearing about him.
“I think he’s seeing someone,”
“Good for him,”
Would it be a crime to admit that you still missed your ex? Something in you was wishing you could rekindle a connection again now that you’re back, but all that hope shattered. If he had already moved on, why couldn’t you? Even after knowing how he probably hated and resented you for doing what you did, you still couldn’t bring yourself to hate him back.
“That’s all?”
“You want me to go full crazy ex mode? You’re insane,” you shook your head, smiling a little, hoping Yunjin didn’t notice the speck of sadness swimming in your irises. “Whoever she is, I’m sure that I would like her … if I were slightly nicer,”
She let out a ‘tch’ in response, though grinning. “What are you going to do with them around? There’s no way you’d be able to fully avoid them,”
“What can I do? I’ll just have to coexist.”
Coexist was a funny word. How were you able to do that when you couldn’t even fully get over Sunghoon in the first place? Thinking about meeting him in flesh already made you feel like doubling over and projectile vomit. That was how pathetic you were, what a shame.
Settling in was easy. It was natural to be back home, way better than being in the noisy city and constantly surrounded by a bunch of fake friends. The question of why you left in the first place started burning your mind as you tossed around trying to sleep, but it only persisted to bug you. Then came the thoughts of Sunghoon and the friends you left behind, which prompted you to be fully awake, sitting up in bed.
It wasn't the greatest idea to reach for your phone and search for his contact name, just to recall the day you deleted his number. Yet, your memory never failed you, remembering the digits like it was first instinct, fingers already typing his number. Your thumb hovered over the green call button, a haze in your mind.
Inevitably, you shut your phone and dug your head into your pillow. He would've laughed then, if he had seen this happen, the exact moment of you almost caving in and finally saying the sorry you never gave him.
The pictures you saw of him on social media here and there made you wonder how he was and if he had already forgotten about you. There were a few recurring appearances of a girl that seemed to linger by his side in group pictures that caught your eyes. Who took your bed when you left? Who laughed at everything that he said? Was it that girl?
Just like the time you first had a crush on Sunghoon, you stayed awake thinking about him, except this time around, you were filled with regret instead of hope.
"Heeseung asked me about you,"
Yunjin's random confession in the middle of the day had surprised you. Lee Heeseung, the best friend of your ex who you swore hated your guts, asked about you? Shocker.
"What did you say?"
"I said something along the lines of you figuring out life and just chilling here until the time comes," Yunjin shrugged, and you nodded slowly. "But there's something he said that made me a bit … confused?"
"What?"
"He said they wanted to see you again,"
You raised your eyebrows, a hint of scepticism flashed over your eyes. "They want to see me? Tell me a better joke next time, thanks,"
"I'm not joking! I mean, he did say excluding Sunghoon, but the other guys wanted to know how you were now that you're back," Yunjin winced a little at the mention of your ex, but you waved it off.
"Are they treating me to dinner or something?"
"Well … no. But Heeseung asked me to bring you to their next party, which is in a few days," Yunjin's gaze softened, hand patting your back. "You know you don't have to come if you don't want to. I mean, after all that happened with you and them and Sunghoon,"
You let out a small sigh, absentmindedly fidgeting your fingers. "It's all in the past now. I'm sure Sunghoon has moved on with another girl, and maybe—just maybe—the guys do hate me less."
You never went to that party Yunjin mentioned.
It was hard to admit but you knew, deep inside you, you were afraid, too cowardly to face the people you once knew. Instead, you chose to linger around like a lost soul in a town full of the ghosts of your past.
It didn't help that the party was also in Sunghoon's house. How did they expect you to go in the first place? You thought you'd never step foot in there after you broke it off with him, and you were adamant on keeping it that way, but your heart got the worst of you.
On the night of the party, you drove around the neighbourhood, eventually stopping across the street of his house. You didn't know what got to you to do so, but you guessed reminiscence and bright lights coming from the house were the reason. The music was loud, people were coming in and out of the house, and the only thing you could think of was him.
That thought alone was enough to have you drive away, leaving the house further and further away into the background just as the memories of him being pushed into the back of your mind.
Rotting in your bed wasn't how your early 20s were meant to be spent, and avoiding almost everyone most definitely wasn't the case either.
Your family and Yunjin were the only people you saw daily, as for the friends you once had, they were long forgotten or didn't even bother to reach out. Except for Heeseung and the others.
That, to you, was a really funny thing to think about. People who stuck by you after the break up and swore to be your closest friends didn't try contacting you once you moved back, knowing damn well word traveled fast in the town; whereas the friends you thought hated you were the first to reach out.
"I'll go to that party," you said to Yunjin on a sunny afternoon tanning session by the pool, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of your nose, hiding the apprehension in your eyes.
"Really?" Yunjin almost jumped out of her seat. It was a party she had brought up days ago, still persistent on taking you out. At least this time around, it wasn't in Sunghoon's house, but her friend Chaewon's. "That's great! Chaewon and the girls are super nice, you'll love them. Let's pick a nice outfit for you, okay?"
Yunjin was by far the most enthusiastic one between you and her. She was picking out dresses and tops, literally rummaging through your closet for anything, and you had to remind her it was just a college party. So, you settled for a skirt and a plain top.
"Will you be okay? I'll stick by you," Yunjin had her arms around you, standing by the front door of Chaewon's house, hearing the music blaring from the inside.
"I'm fine—I think I'll be fine—I just don't want to run away from everyone anymore," it was mostly true, you thought it was inevitable to hide all the time, that wasn't how you're going to spend your life living.
"If there's anything, tell me, okay? We'll leave if you're getting sick," Yunjin gave your arm a final squeeze of assurance before crossing the threshold.
It was the same as every party you've gone to. Loud music, drunk college kids, liquor and beers strayed around, it reeked of your nightmare in a nutshell there.
Yunjin's friends were all as lovely as she had promised. The host herself was wobbling on her feet but managed to grace you with her humour. There was Sakura and Kazuha that you learned were foreign students.
Throughout the night, you were stuck by Yunjin, going from circle to circle and introducing yourself or recognising some of your past school mates. But, almost inevitably so, Heeseung, Jay and Jake had made an appearance too.
"Y/N," Jay was the first to call your name, causing you to turn your head at the familiar voice.
Your thoughts during then were jumbled into a mess. The people you were fighting to avoid were standing in front of you, all of which were much different than the memories you had of them in mind.
Three of them had grown taller, gained some muscles and matured in many ways. Jay's hair was dyed pink, Heeseung got new piercings and Jake had a tattoo on his finger. It was strange to admit they're the same people you knew despite feeling the complete opposite of familiarity.
"Hey—" you were cut off by Jay closing in and pulling you into a hug, this for once was something you remembered about him.
"We're so glad you're back," he whispered into your hair, squeezing you tight. It reminded you then that you were friends with him and the guys before you even dated Sunghoon, that connection was deeper than it seemed, and for it to be severed just because of a breakup was gut wrenching to realise. "We're sorry, Y/N, we're so sorry,"
His apology was genuine, that's for sure. Once you pull away, you let both Heeseung and Jake take turns to hug you, whispering apologies into your ear. It was odd, to accept their apologies and having to start afresh. You held onto them, just taking it in. To forgive was a big step, but maybe it was your first step.
You sat there, catching up with them and slowly getting comfortable just like the old days. Heeseung graduated and got a good job offer, Jay and Jake were still studying, both of which were in the same university. You were relieved there was nothing too awkward between you and them, or else you would have regretted your choices.
The night continued on with a few small talks and eventually you had to excuse yourself to the toilet. You wondered how Chaewon's house was so big, with halls that seemed to never end, or it could just be the effects of alcohol.
Stumbling around, you held onto the walls, passing by rooms occupied by people probably doing something unspeakable. You thought your peace of mind would be intact until the end of the night, but you were wrong. Upon turning a corner, you froze.
It was Sunghoon. It was him.
Grief was a funny feeling, especially when it comes to someone you once knew. You stared at him and there he was, like a ghost from your past coming back to haunt you. He was the shell of the person you loved, and you couldn't help but grieve the person he once was. What was he like now?
Before you could even turn around and make a run for it, his wandering eyes landed on you. He had the same thought process as you. Realisation, panic, sadness, confusion all mixed into a heap of feelings.
Your feet started moving on its own, as you stepped back, he took a step forward. Your breath became ragged, heart thumping hard and blood pumping in your ears. He was nearing, and you were running away, it was the same as before.
"Y/N!" He called out, and all it took was him to say your name again to have you stop in your tracks. Gosh, you were pathetic.
He was standing before you now, closer than he was a moment ago. It was then you realised how much he had changed too.
He was taller, smile lines etched much deeper into his face, almost changing along the same wavelengths with the others. There was something different about the way he looked at you, however. From love in his eyes that eventually changed into hatred was now filled with longing and confusion.
"Y/N," he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice, as if he couldn't believe you were there.
"Sunghoon," you blinked, a frown unknowingly making its way to your face. You let a few beats of silence pass, conflicted and nervous. "I—I should leave,"
"No—!" his hand reached out for you, but you didn't feel his touch. He didn't dare to touch you, letting his hand linger before pulling it back to his side. "I mean, you don't have to leave,"
"I thought you hate me,"
Sunghoon's gaze fell to the floor, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. He met your eyes once more. "I should hate you, shouldn't I? But I don't think I do, I never did,"
You blinked, a little surprised, a little hurt. All along he had made you think he hated your guts but he actually didn't? "Oh," you seemed to have lost the ability to talk or to compute a proper sentence.
You thought of the things you wanted to ask him. If he was still angry at you or if things were working for him. But, what came out was the question you've stored in the back of your mind instead.
"Are you with someone new?"
You figured he didn't expect such a question from you, much as you didn't expect yourself saying it. It was an itching thought, one that made you look like a typical ex, but you couldn't help it.
"I'm not," he sounded almost exasperated, as if having to squash down this rumour for the thousandth time.
"Oh … oh," you didn't know what to say, averting your gaze away from him and finding comfort in the wall behind him.
Sunghoon paused, gaze following yours, looking reluctant whether or not to continue the conversation, but alas, he did. "How have you been?"
"Bad," you laughed a little, and Sunghoon's ears perked at the sound of it that he hasn't heard for ages. "You?"
"I quit skating,"
That was surprising. How could he have? Skating was his dream, his past, present and supposed future, but now, it came crashing down. You didn't know if you should feel sorry for him, as you have been a part of his journey, but one bit of you also seemed to have started mourning the changed Sunghoon that stood before you.
"Why?"
He shrugged, hands slipping into his pocket with a solemn look. "I lost interest. I'm into music now, I'm in a band with the guys,"
You heaved a breath, a deep one. Ironic it was that he was doing music now when he was the one criticising you in the past for wanting to pursue it. Who even was this person? With a new appearance came a new personality, he was much further away than you thought despite the physical distance.
"You've changed," you didn't know what prompted you to say that, maybe it was the disbelief or the denial that he was someone new, but whatever it was, neither of you could deny the fact that he did change. "I'm scared of the person you've become,"
A beat passed, an unreadable expression on Sunghoon's face that you couldn't distinguish even though by now you thought you'd know every one of them.
"And I'm scared you're still the same."
Seeing Sunghoon that night seemed to have altered something in your life. Somehow, he was everywhere you went.
Who was working at the register? Sunghoon. Who was at the park? Sunghoon. Who was at the party Yunjin managed to drag you to? Sunghoon.
It was haunting.
All those little encounters didn't mean you talked to him like normal, though. The awkward tension in the air still remained, seeing each other only reminded you and him both of your pasts, and you hated it. That explained why you were having a hard time seeing him at another party you were at.
Yunjin was much more of a party goer than you expected, and she successfully convinced you to go to all of them. It was fun until you got drunk and started being emotional. Your efforts of hiding from Sunghoon that night failed when he barged into the empty room you were sobbing in, whether it was accidental or not, you didn't know, you wished to not know.
"Y/N?"
His voice brought back the times he called your name. Both the good and bad ones. You stared up at him from the ground, tears welling your eyes. The person you were looking at was someone you thought was a soulmate, but now stood as someone closer to a stranger than a friend.
"W–what are you doing here? Why are you crying?"
The alcohol messing with your brain was processing his words, but what came out from your lips was the total opposite of an answer. "I'm sorry, Hoonie,"
Sunghoon's eyes widened at the nickname, the privilege that only you had. He kneeled down, taking a seat on the ground opposite you, a visible distance in between.
"I hate this—us—I feel like if we gave it one night, to talk, to just feel—you'd hate me less and make it alright," you choked back the sobs building up in your throat, the dizziness making you unaware of how Sunghoon reached out only to hesitate and pressed his hand back to his side. "Just wish that we could fight now, I'd hold you on the comedown …" your voice faltered, head leaning onto the wall.
"Y/N, you're drunk, we can talk this out another day," Sunghoon striped off his jacket and covered your exposed thighs with it. "Just … don't avoid me. I–I don't hate you, I just hope we can have a decent conversation without thinking about the past,"
He admitted it, how the two of you had secretly been thinking about the past, letting it be a big wall in between instead of growing from it. Yet, you could tell the unspoken anger and sadness still lingered, choosing to pour out gradually and unknowingly.
"Bet you wish you never even met me," you started slurring, hand gripping onto his jacket tightly. "I can't blame you, I broke your every heartbeat," your eyes were shut, images playing in your mind, not knowing the saddened look dawning on Sunghoon's face.
"Let's get you back."
In your sleep that night, you saw him. He was there, so far yet so close, and just like reality, he was hard to reach, harder to understand compared to before. He was a knife cutting deep, leaving a mark that constantly reminded you of the past.
How could you even make everything go back to the way it was?
Sunghoon was on your front door step the night everyone was out for dinner except you.
You hadn't expected him to turn up, thinking it'd be you that stood at his doorstep instead as you still had his jacket from that party (which you do not want to think about again).
"Sunghoon. Hey," the door was opened and you leaned against it, trying your best at hiding the hint of pining in your gaze.
"Oh, hey," he greeted back rather stiffly, dressed in a simple attire with the classic white Lacoste sneakers that he always wore. "I–I wanted to—"
"Take your … jacket?" You cut him off half way, nerves wrecking your brain.
A beat passed, Sunghoom visibly gulped. "Y–Yeah, my jacket,"
"I'll go grab it for you," you jerked your thumb over your shoulder, awkwardly scurrying back in to retrieve his jacket and coming back to see him chewing on his bottom lip, seemingly nervous. "Here. Thanks for it,"
"No problem," Sunghoon coughed, grabbing the jacket but absolutely paying no mind to it. His stare was straight at you.
"That's all, right?"
"Yeah,"
"Yeah," you echoed, hating the sudden rigidness between the two of you. "Bye then, Sunghoon,"
"Bye," Sunghoon said, looking dazed. Weird.
You saw him backing away and decided to close the door, but before you could even do so, a force had stopped you from closing it. Not a force, much rather a hand, his hand. The door was pushed open, and you physically jumped at the suddenness of it. Your eyes met Sunghoon's sorrowful ones.
"Don't push me away, Y/N, not again,"
"Sunghoon,"
He made his way in, closing the door behind him and you let him. Was this seriously happening?
"You said you wanted to give us one night to talk, so I'm here now. I didn't care about the jacket, I cared about you. I hate seeing us like this, it's like we're strangers," Sunghoon let out a frustrated huff, eyebrows furrowed.
"We can't just pretend nothing has happened between us,"
"So you want me to hate you instead? You're saying as if it's easy, Y/N, feelings don't work that way!"
"Then how do we go back to how it was? We can't, that's the truth. You're not the same person I used to know,"
"Cut the bullshit. I'm the same as I was, maybe just a little different than I was years ago, but that doesn't change anything. When does that ever stop you from loving?"
Were you too scared to love?
Sunghoon ran his hand across his face, wetting his lips. "You’re scared of change, and I don’t think that’s something new about you,”
Ouch.
“But I really wish you could let it all go. I don’t hate you, nor do I harbour any anger regarding the things that happened years ago. It hurts, it did, but seeing you now made me feel the opposite of all those emotions,” Sunghoon took a deep breath in, and you were holding yours. “I think about you a lot, actually. I regretted a lot of the things I said and done, and I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being there for you and giving you the support you needed. I should've fought for us and not leave, I–I—" Sunghoon choked, unable to hold in his overpowering emotions anymore.
You didn’t say anything, instinctively closing in and pulling him into your arms, letting his head lie on your shoulder, ignoring the feeling of his warm tears soaking the fabric of your shirt. "I'm sorry too, for leaving you so easily,"
You stood there with Sunghoon in your arms, inevitably crying along and sobbing out your own apologies, the ones you had owed him and hidden all these years. He held you tight just as you did, and it felt like the nights he had you in his arms whenever you cried. You eventually calmed down whereas Sunghoon was still composing himself, avoiding your gaze.
You took the opportunity to hug him again, tighter and firmer this time, as if trying to stop him from running away.
"Can we start over? I don't want us to be strangers,"
You heard a sniffle, then a shaky breath of relief. "I'd love to,"
Pulling away, you locked eyes with him. They were twinkling brighter than the stars in the skies outside, filled with a spark of hope. "I'll make us some hot tea. Do you want to … stay over?"
"Can I?"
"I really want you to."
It didn't take more to convince Sunghoon to stay, all you had to do was ask and he'd listen.
That night, you and him hid in your room, talking for the whole night until the break of dawn. Nothing about the way he talked had changed, nor his laughter or the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. He told you about the band and some side gigs, offering to bring you to some too.
You laid there in bed laughing all night, occasionally peeking over the side of your bed to check up on him who slept on the extra mattress, only to meet his eyes and freeze.
The red string of fate tying you and him together was beginning to reform.
Not feeling dread every time you saw Sunghoon was a new start for you. In fact, you were glad to see him.
The misunderstandings and complexity built up over the years were finally addressed, leaving you to peace and a small hope of rebuilding what you had with him. But you kept that thought away for now, holding onto the pieces you had at the moment.
"Come to one of my gigs," Sunghoon made a trip to your house on a random afternoon, a box of your favourite chocolate covered strawberries in his hand. He never forgot anything about you, didn't he?
"Are you bribing me or asking me?" You said despite accepting the box, your heart squeezing at the thought of him remembering the littlest details about you.
"I'm asking you but also offering a gift," he let himself in, almost like always, and you didn't even notice, just letting him do so. "I saw it and I thought of you so I got it,"
"Thanks," you waved the box a little, setting it down on the table and leaning slightly against it. "You still remember,"
His gaze softened. "Of course I do," his hand by his side was itching to reach out, but it never did, instead, he played it off by giving you a smile. "So, what do you say? This Saturday, watch our gig at the pub,"
"Are you singing?"
"I wish I did," he laughed, and you momentarily recalled the times you had karaoke sessions with him. Curse reminiscence. "I play the bass, Heeseung's the front man,"
You nodded slowly, picturing them as a band and smiling slowly. You've missed them, and it was then when you realised it. "I'll go,"
"Really?"
"Obviously, do you want me to say no?"
"Well, no," Sunghoon chuckled, quite literally unable to hide his excitement from the way he's grinning widely. "I'm just … glad, and surprised, and happy,"
You bit back a smile, shaking your head at him. "Text me the details, will you? I don't want to miss it."
Saturday rolled around quickly. You and Yunjin were sitting in a corner of the pub, beers on the table and whispering gossip about some of your high school classmates. High school might've ended years ago but gossip never stopped.
"Alright, folks, the next act is someone you already know, they are not strangers," the manager of the pub stepped onto the small stage, announcing Sunghoon and the guy's band. "Please welcome … April Nights!"
April?
You bit your tongue, an odd feeling boiling in your stomach. April was the month you broke up with Sunghoon and left for university, it was more than just a coincidence for him and his band to have 'April' in their name. All you knew was the sinking feeling never went away.
"You alright?" Yunjin noticed your silence, casting a worried glance at you.
"April …" you mumbled, eyes staring straight ahead at Sunghoon who was setting up his bass on stage. "There must be something behind it,"
"What?"
"Nothing,"
You shook away that feeling currently eating up and put your focus on Sunghoon instead. It wasn't your first time watching him perform. It has always been him on ice in a big arena, but now it was him on a small stage at a dingy pub.
Sunghoon's eyes wandered all over the room, finally landing on you, a smile spreading on his pretty face. You managed a small smile, waving a little to let him know you're there, you're actually there and not a figment of his imagination, a dream that he has been wishing on for far too long.
The first song they played was an ABBA song. To be specific, it was your favourite ABBA song that you would listen to with Sunghoon in the past. Was it a coincidence?
You knew Heeseung had a vocal of stars, but to hear it for the first time in years was sending you into heaven. However, you failed to keep your focus on him, redirecting it to the bassist. You couldn't stop looking at Sunghoon, and his gaze wouldn't leave yours either.
The second song soon came by, and at that point onwards, you knew it wasn't a coincidence. It only took two songs for you to realise that Sunghoon had prepared a set list of your favourite songs. The band was currently playing Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, a song you had loved ever since forever.
You shouldn't be feeling light headed, but you were.
The set ended almost a few hours later. It was filled with your favourite songs, undoubtedly. The whole time, you were truly holding your breath, especially when Sunghoon was holding your gaze.
While people were filing in and out of the pub gradually, you stayed. It was well past midnight and Yunjin's cheeks were pink from the alcohol, wandering off to join Heeseung and the others. You, on the other hand, were sober as hell, waiting for Sunghoon with nerve wrecking anticipation.
"Hey, hey, hey. How did we do?" Sunghoon slid into a seat like an apparition appearing out of thin air. You jumped a little, but melted into a smile at the sight of him.
"You guys were great," it was genuine, because they did do amazing, probably more than just amazing. "'April nights', an interesting name,"
Realisation dawned on Sunghoon's face, he swallowed thickly. "I—yeah. April was an interesting month,"
"The set list …"
"Right, the set list," he chuckled, shifting on his feet a little nervously and stiffly. "I figured since you're here I'll play some of your favourite songs,"
"Oh," you let out softly, not knowing what else to say, this was something you found yourself acting around Sunghoon now. "That's … nice,"
Sunghoon gouged your expressions and the tone of your voice, a slow frown etching onto his tired face. "Did you not … like it? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable,"
"No, it's not that! I'm just—" you paused, thinking of an appropriate word to describe how you felt. Frankly, you didn't know your exact feelings. "—surprised and … confused?"
"Confused?"
"Sunghoon, we're exes, and you pulling this isn't exactly helping—this—" you gestured to the space between you and him. "Us,"
Sunghoon was silent for a moment, occasionally opening his mouth to say something just to close it before he could. "I—maybe I read it all wrong, I thought—you know what, forget it,"
"Don't. Just tell me," you reached over for him, but didn't touch his hand. "What are we? We're not exactly best friends nor are we enemies. I don't want any tension between us and I don't want you to think you have zero chance at all," you breathed, searching for his eyes. "I would want us to work out again, if that's what you want too,"
Sunghoon's eyes glistened with a spark of hope, relief washing over his face. It was an answer to his question. "I want us to work out. I want us to have another chance," his hand reached out for yours the first time since you've seen each other, feeling the warmth of his touch that you were no stranger to. He carefully and gently intertwined his hand with yours.
"We'll always find our way back to each other."
It was odd but comforting to know that nothing has changed when it came to you and Sunghoon.
Sunghoon brought you to your favourite places, ate your favourite dishes, did your favourite activities as an attempt to rekindle everything back. Safe to say it was working.
Just like the first dates you had together, you felt yourself having the same bubbly feeling internally, the same giggles you caught yourself having after a stupid joke he made. Despite all that, over the course of a few weeks, it had you wondering about your relationship with him.
"Will you date him again?" Yunjin could tell you were struggling, even if you didn't say it, it was still quite evident.
"What's with the sudden question?"
"Well, considering he has taken you out on so many dates and still hasn't asked you to be his girlfriend again, I could tell you're troubled,"
"Okay, mind reader," you grumbled and shifted in your seat, hating how right she was. "He said he wanted to give us a chance again, so I was expecting that—you know—we'd get back together soon,"
"Your 'soon' seems a bit urgent, but I don't blame you," Yunjin shrugged, gaze softening at your words. "I can tell how much love there still is between the two of you. It's natural to gravitate towards each other, but time, time is what you need to heal the scars, Y/N. It's been years, give yourself time."
You suppose giving yourself time truly was what you needed. But when you mentally said you needed space, you didn't mean wanting Sunghoon to ignore you.
That's right. He was ignoring you.
How did you know? Apparently, the hard way.
Calls, messages were all brushed aside. You didn't even see him physically. At one point, you considered him dead, but seeing him at a party proved to you that he wasn't.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
Cornering him was a challenge, but being headstrong and slightly buzzed, nothing could possibly stop you.
"Y/N?"
"Wow, I'm surprised you remember my name," you seethed, almost stumbling forward and throwing a punch at him. "So, we're playing the game where you get back at me and ghost me after all that we've been through lately? Sweet! Could've given me a head's up though,"
"What? You're the one who's planning to abandon me just like before!"
"What are you even saying?"
"Your email, Y/N. I saw your email. How you have a big job in London and you just can't wait to join, throwing me away like a summer's fling right before you leave,"
"You're not making any sense, I'm not accepting that role!" You were heaving at anger at this point, matching the fumes emitting from Sunghoon's ears. "You dickhead! I'm literally throwing my dreams away and you're here thinking I'm leaving you again? Is that what you thought of first? Oh, maybe you could've just asked me, but you didn't, just like the past,"
Bringing up the past had triggered something not only in you but him. He blinked, keeping silent but chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek.
"You never changed, huh?"
You heaved a deep breath, shaking your head a little, not to answer his question, but at him.
"Well I guess that makes the both of us."
"I fucked it up, didn't I?"
The night after the confrontation, you woke up on Yunjin's couch with a hangover thanks to your habit of drinking your problems away. Remembering Sunghoon's face and the feelings you felt literally had you shrivelling back into the couch, a deep frown etched on your face.
"Partly, yes, but mostly, no," you felt the couch dip beneath Yunjin's weight as she joined your side, a warm cup of coffee in her hand. "He fucked up first, but I think it's all just a big misunderstanding,"
"I don't we've healed from it," you took the cup from her and drank from it. "He's scared of me leaving and I was considering leaving again. Maybe we're just not meant to be,"
Yunjin sighed, moving her body closer to you and placing a comforting hand on yours. "If you're not leaving, that means you're staying, which also means you get to make it right. You get to have time to mend it all unlike the last time,"
"I have to make it right, don't I?"
A nod of confirmation from Yunjin was all you needed to know your next step. So, you decided to show up at his gig in the same exact pub without thinking through it twice.
"He's not here tonight," Heeseung looked thoroughly puzzled by your sudden appearance, and it seemed none of them knew about the small altercation you had with Sunghoon.
"Really?"
"Yeah, he's been acting a bit … off. We asked him to take a night off, maybe you should give him a call."
If only it was that easy.
Walking back home with a dejected heart was not the plan you had in mind. A part of you even thought this was truly the end, maybe he reached the conclusion of going no contact and you have no choice but to accept it. Was this karma?
It didn't help that you walked past the park that you and Sunghoon used to run off to back in the past. The exact bench which you and him sat on still resided there. Your curious mind led your legs towards it, taking a seat and remembering all the memories you shared with him.
Being alone under the night sky and getting accompanied by the dim light coming from the street lamp had given you a chance to rethink your choices about coming back home, whether it was worth it to see Sunghoon once again and try for the closure you never got. Well, look where it got you now.
The ruffles of the leaves got you snapping your head towards the direction of the noise, but it only landed on a figure.
"Y/N?"
You squinted, waiting until the figure walked under the streetlamp to distinguish that it was … Sunghoon. You should be feeling glad now that he was there in front you, but why were you feeling the exact opposite?
"Sunghoon? W–what are you doing here?" You stood up, watching him getting closer, the anguish in his face was clear.
"I–I … I went to look for you," he started, carefully and slowly inching closer until there's a comfortable distance between you both. "You weren't home and I thought … that was it,"
That was a fatal flaw you and him shared, wasn't it?
"I went to the pub to look for you too," your voice came out in a hushed whisper, breathing becoming ragged. "And you weren't there, so I thought … I thought it was the end too,"
"Fuck's sake, I know I said this many times but I'm sorry, Y/N," he sounded desperate, apologetic and almost exasperated. "I'm sorry for assuming things and ignoring you, I guess I never really got rid of the avoiding thing. I'm just … scared of you leaving me and I can't accept it again,"
"I'm not leaving, Hoonie," you were the first to reach out, to touch him and pull him into your embrace. "I didn't think you'd see that email so I never said anything about it. But I'm not leaving, okay? Not this time, never again. I'm here and I'm staying,"
You heard Sunghoon's quiet breathing next to your ear, his calming heartbeat thrumming against your shoulder. "I'm sorry, I really am, Y/N. I said I wanted to make this right but why does it feel like I'm fucking it all up?"
"You're not, Hoon, trust me. If I have to be honest here, both of us have past scars that aren't healed yet. It takes time, one step at a time, and that was what I learned. I think we're not fully healed from the past," you held onto him tighter, spilling all your hidden truths. "We can make it right, but first, we have to forgive ourselves, forgive each other and move on,"
Sunghoon pulled away a little, but his arms still remained around you. It was the first time you were ever so close to him since the split, wholly vulnerable and showing him your truest emotions.
"I forgive you," he whispered, pearly tears threatening to spill from the edge of his eyes. "And I'm sorry again,"
"I forgive you too," your grip on his jacket tightened, a small comforting smile appearing on your lips, one that Sunghoon reciprocated.
"I don't think I'll ever stop loving you," he confessed, a little out of the blue, but it was something he needed to get out of his system before he burst. "Those years when you were away, I see you in everyone else, I don't think anyone could ever compare. I still love you even after this long,"
Your mind was in a haze upon hearing his confession, sincerity and longing hidden in his words but evident in his eyed. For a moment, you thought of what you could say, but nothing came to mind, so you did the first thing your body told you to. You kissed him. Actually, it was more of a peck, a simple quick peck that was enough to shock both him and you.
"I'm sorry!" You saw his wide eyes and wondered if it was a good time to have even done that.
Sunghoon melted into an expression of adoration, a wide smile etched on his lips, as if in both disbelief and relief that you kissed him. "Don't be sorry," he stepped closer, only an inch measured the distance between you and him. The space became smaller when he leaned down, eyes flickering down to your lips. "Can I?"
Was this happening? "Yeah,"
Sunghoon didn't waste any moment in meeting your lips with his. It was natural, easy, for you to kiss him just like first instinct. The amount of desperation, sadness, anger and love were poured into the way he kissed you. There wasn't any urgency, but it spoke louder than intended.
It was short, but it was enough to let the both you know the true feelings you harboured for each other. By the time you pulled away from him, you felt his eyes on you, a giggle erupted from you unexpectedly, and he started joining in.
You really looked like a lovesick fool standing under the streetlamp with your lover.
"Do you want to stop by that old spot we used to go to?" Sunghoon suggested, a little shyly this time.
"The one nearby?"
"That one,"
"Let's go then." you nodded, casting him a soft smile.
Sunghoon didn't say much, but his hand did the talking by reaching for yours. He held onto it tightly, intertwining his fingers with yours and swinging your interlocked hands as you walked. He might've not said much, but you could tell how he felt.
Feelings might be complicated, and making amends with the history behind a broken relationship was equally challenging, but what mattered most was getting back with the one who you called your soulmate, your lover, your best friend.
( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )
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remember me (2) | j.wy x reader
synopsis: the years may have passed but he always remembered you. even when you didn't.
pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader
genre: idol!AU, friends to strangers to partners to lovers (?), smut (minors do not interact!!)
warnings: idol wooyoung, idol reader, smut, swearing, a tad bit of angst, mutual pining, oh.oh (I really wanted to use this trope in this story!), unprotected vaginal penetration (bad irl!!), mirrors (iykik), reader is bitchy, wooyoung finally stands up for himself (and the end makes him happy:D), miscommunication (I hate this but I swear there's a reason for it). nothing too dirty but if I miss anything pls let me know!
word count: 5.1k ish
a/n: when I first got the idea for this I thought I knew exactly where it was going. I was so wrong:)) the story kinda wrote itself in the end. I wanted to apologise for the miscommunication trope but it was so necessary for the development of both reader's and wy's development (don't hate me too much, it was all good in the end:D). as usual I’m open to any feedback and criticism so don’t be shy to let me know!! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡
previous part
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“You did what?” Hajun started laughing.
“You heard me the first time,” you rolled your eyes, reaching for the takeout Hajun brought to you half an hour ago, when you called him for an embarrassing emergency.
“Obviously I did. But I wanted you to say again how you sat on the pretty boy’s face.”
You couldn’t say the whole situation happened out of nowhere. You couldn’t deny the tension between you only got stronger since the stupid sexy dance.
You expected Wooyoung to mention your little very hot interaction. But he didn’t! He was acting as if nothing happened, back to being the sloppy, careless, unreliable, and spineless self.
And that pissed you off even more. Was he ever going to mention anything? How long were you going to wait? You gave him plenty of opportunities! Right? You were the one that went to him first. And what did he do? Pretend you never met, never existed. Unimpressed. Careless.
Sloppy. Unreliable.
And spineless.
“All I’m saying is, you two seemed to enjoy each other. So I see nothing wrong about it,” Hajun continued slurping from his drink.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Dude, what complications?” he asked skeptically.
“I can give you about a gazillion..dude.”
“If it’s about our eternal love, I can take my pity ass and my heartbroken heart and disappear in the sunset,” he wiped a fake tear from his right eye. To which you could only reply by laughing.
“No, but I’m serious, you know our arrangement was never something that should be complicated and could be ended whenever it wasn’t useful for any of us.”
“I know,” you sighed, “and trust me this has nothing to do with it. I swear.”
“Then? What’s the problem?”
Then? What’s the problem? You. You were the problem. And your lack of sincerity.
And Wooyoung’s.
But, oh well, two could play this game. If he was not going to say anything, why would you. You continued your practice like before. Him messing up, as usual. And you bitching about it with snarky remarks, as usual. Him never replying back, as usual. And you getting more pissed because of it, as usual.
You tried to ignore the feeling of his touch, and the electricity it was sending to your body each time. Thinking about dead unicorns should help.
His hands glided over your thighs, ripping your skin with them, leaving you open and raw, falling into his arms. Finally, this dance move was a success, at the price of you being skinned alive. You looked into his eyes. Really looked. And could only silently beg him to look back into yours. Really look.
“Are you ok?” Hongjoong asked. You were almost finalising your studio session of the day and to say that you were distracted was not enough. You were not your talkative opinionated self and that was making Hongoong slightly uncomfortable. He felt you staring at the screens over his shoulder the whole time, without you making any remarks to the changes he was making to the song segments. It was too weird for him. He had to ask. It was your decision if you were going to be honest or not.
“Why did you propose for Wooyoung to be my partner when I told you I was looking for one?” you asked absentmindedly.
“Did he do something?” he turned to face you. “Did he say something? What did he do?”
You kinda mentally chuckled at the thought of Wooyoung misbehaving so much that this was Hongjoong’s first thought, that he did something. Not that he was wrong though. He did more than something. He said more than something too…focus. Dead unicorns.
“Nothing, nothing. I was just curious.” You nudged.
“Oh, okay. Well, he is the best dancer I know. So, I thought it would be a great solution for you and a great opportunity for him, for a great collaboration with the second best dancer I know,” he smiled.
“How dare you?” you gasped, pretending to be offended. “At least tell me I’m the best singer you produced a song for. So I can forgive this audacity!”
To which Hongjoong remained silent and continued to smile, returning to his work.
“Rude,” you scoffed.
If only Wooyoung could live up to Hongjoong’s title. You knew he was great. Amazing even. You were an Ateez fan after all. You knew what he was capable of. You watched all his performances. So why was he not giving his best with you too.
You two had another video call with the choreographer, after your latest dance video submission. He was disappointed and he was trying really hard to hide it.
“Wooyoung, I watched some of your videos man, and what I see now doesn’t seem like you.”
Exactly what you were thinking!
“And you Y/N, we worked together for years. I know you. This doesn’t seem like you either,” he sighed. “The second choreography was meant to strengthen your chemistry, not make it worse. Please, try it again for a couple of days and then go back to your routine. Accept each other’s movements.”
How could you go back to the second, hot and dangerous choreography. You both silently agreed to not mention it again. Dead unicorns, right?
You were stiff.
He was flustered.
This was never going to work out.
“What is this?” you asked reaching for the small pink box from the bench where you’d usually leave your bag at the beginning of the practice.
“I, I wanted to apologise,” Wooyoung started with a shy smile, “for everything. Everything.”
You opened the box to find a dozen bunny shaped biscuits, topped with white icing. The asshole.
“No thanks, I don’t eat sugar.”
The room turned a couple degrees colder. You politely closed the box and put it back on the bench, starting your morning practice.
Nothing was working how you wanted. For the first time in weeks it was you making stupid mistakes. Wooyoung was doing god’s work trying not to start laughing at every mistake. The fact that he was aware of your mistakes was making you even more self-conscious and you hated feeling that. You knew exactly when was the last time you felt like that and you swore to yourself to never feel like that again. But here you were now. In this situation. And there was only one asshole to blame.
“Did you really think that apology was going to work?” You couldn’t keep it in you anymore and asked staring into his eyes, when he was on top of you.
“What?” He stopped in the middle of his step.
“The stupid biscuits, what were you thinking?”
“I thought it would be a nice gesture. How should I know you don’t eat sugar?”
You groaned loudly, continuing your steps.
“It’s not even about the sugar.”
Wooyoung was so confused. You were always weirdly cryptic in a mad way, but this time it was…weird in a weird way. Most of the times you were annoyed by things he was not doing, and this was a first - being annoyed by something he did do?
He was surprised you never mentioned the incident. He didn’t want to be too greedy so he didn’t do it first. He could swear something possessed him that day. He was so…cheeky that day. Was he cheeky with his partners before? Sure. Would he have done something like this with someone else? Of course!
How did he do it with you? He couldn’t comprehend. He was never cheeky with you. For god’s sake he couldn’t even argue with you when you kept bitching during practice.
So what on earth went through his mind?
The same nasty thoughts he always had when he thinks of you. The same nasty thoughts he always had when you were in a five meter radius from him.
The same nasty thoughts he always had when he touched you.
He blushed the whole way home that day. He blushed while getting ready for bed. He blushed while taking a shower. He blushed while drawing stupid hearts on the shower glass. He blushed while taking a picture. He blushed while thinking of you when writing the caption. He blushed when he saw you liked the post.
He was so far gone.
All the possible conversation scenarios went through his mind that night and he was ready to have any sort of uncomfortable talk with you. But you acted like nothing happened and didn’t say anything. So he didn’t either.
He thought about apologizing. For everything. And what better way than with something sweet. Two things that were always recurrent on your old instagram were bunnies and desserts. So he thought, what could go wrong with some bunny biscuits. Right?
Apparently many things because you were mad about it. For some reason Wooyoung couldn’t understand. It was a different type of mad from the one you constantly showed in the past weeks. It was more of a sulky mad, which Wooyoung actually found adorable.
But nevertheless you were mad. And that never helped your dance practices before, it wasn’t going to help now either.
It was most certainly not helping you while getting flustered during the dance.
You mentally refused to call for Hajun in the past days, especially for your quick breaks during the day. You really wanted to, but you couldn’t. A different person was flying through your thoughts when you were thinking about it. Your arrangement with Hajun was nice and convenient but you’d never fuck him while thinking of someone else. You were not like that.
So you were left just with your thoughts.
And the memory of that day.
How hot and electrifying it was. How hot and electrifying he was. Nope. Dead unicorns!
“Is your dance practice going well?” Hongjoong questioned Wooyoung after just arriving at the studio with a bag of take out that Hongjoong asked for.
“Amazing.” Wooyoung breathed, paying attention to the food packages, looking for something he could nibble on. “Why?”
“Y/N cancelled our session today saying she wants to focus on the dance as there’s ‘some setbacks that she couldn’t foresee’”, he emphasized with air quotes and squinting his eyes. “What did you do?”
Wooyoung scoffed. “Why do you think I did something? We weren’t supposed to practice today and I have no clue what these ‘setbacks’ are about. Maybe she didn’t want to see you today and lied about it. Did you think about that?” he giggled while stealing some fries from Hongjoong’s plate.
“Y/N wouldn’t lie.” Hongjoong stated matter of factly, as if he stated the sky is blue.
He was honest about it as he was honest about the image he had of you - sincere, hardworking, professional and sweet and caring and, and definitely not a liar that avoids a day of work.
Wooyoung rolled his eyes. Of course she wouldn’t.
Okay, maybe indeed you wouldn’t lie. Break promises? Forget about them? Stamp on them? All plausible events.
“You know what I don’t get?” Hongjoong continued opening his sauce.
“I have a really long list. With what do you want me to start?”
“You think you’re smart, dumbass?”
“I do, in fact.” Wooyoung smiled proudly.
“Nevermind then.” Hongjoong hated how Wooyoung wasn’t serious about this conversation. He wasn’t serious from the beginning and Hongjoong thought it was just a caprice. One that continued for longer than he expected. The reason why he really wanted to understand what this was all about.
“Come on, don’t start sulking like a bitch and tell me!”
“I know you are a stupid fanboy in, what you think is a secret, but when you talk about her you sound like you hate her. What’s up with it, it’s weird dude.”
From all the item’s on Wooyoung’s list, this was not one. Did he really make it sound like he hates you? Was he stupid? He didn’t want the others to know that he admires you so much so they wouldn’t tease him about it, but he didn’t want the opposite either…from the outside perspective it looks like he hates you?
“I don’t hate her. I could never hate her.'' He was looking anywhere but at Hongjoong, not being able to face him, now embarrassed by himself.
“I know that. But if you act with her like how you talk to me about her, I have bad news for you.”
“It’s…complicated.”
“Complicated for who? You? Then uncomplicate it.” Hongjoong sighed. “We can’t afford not having great results out of this collaboration. It’s not only good for you or for me. It’s good for all of us. Don’t. Fuck. It. Up.”
Is he fucking it up?
He scrolled through his camera roll until he found the picture he was looking for. A picture of the red velvet cake he bought a few days ago as a nice gesture for the team. The cake was cut in eight even slices, with one slice missing, that he ate by himself because he was too impatient to wait for everyone to be back home and eat it together. Maybe he was always a little bit too impatient and expected too much from others.
He edited the picture, putting a filter over it, that would fit the rest of his feed and posted it on his secret account with the caption: ‘I bleed on the plate in front of you and you sip my blood even though you are not thirsty.’
You sighed looking at the picture and reading the caption and put your phone aside. You were alone in the dance room, trying to take your mind from anything else but dancing. You had to admit, Wooyoung was not the only one making mistakes. You had to focus and get it done with it!
The last time you felt so incompetent while dancing was in your first year you took lessons. You were maybe five or six. You didn’t understand much, thinking that dancing is just vibing with the music. You cried at your first competition after making a mistake on stage, making you feel not good enough. You promised yourself then and there to never feel like that again. And you never did again.
You were startled when the door opened and Wooyoung entered, holding a small pink box.
“We were supposed to have the day off from practice today. What are you doing here?”
“That’s what I should ask you,” he smiled a sweet smile. “I wanted to bring you some of this, I swear they have no sugar,” he passed you the small box that you opened and saw the same bunny shapes. It was crackers this time, no sugar. “It’s from this bakery that I really like and I swear it’s really nice.”
You scoffed, closing your eyes and clenching your jaw. “Why are you doing this?”
“I thought it would be nice.”
You pushed the box back to him and looked up straight into his eyes. “Why the fucking bunnies?’
“I thought you’d like them.”
“Why? Why would you think I’d like them?”
Please, for once, say it.
“Because they are cute?”
“For fuck’s sake Wooyoung,” you turned your back to him, pretending to go back to your practice. “Forget about it.”
For once, when Wooyoung got annoyed he did talk back to you. He wanted to just leave. If you didn’t want his gift he wasn’t going to insist. But you had to go and run your mouth and touch his most sensitive nerve. Too bad. “That might be something that you can easily do. But I don’t!”
Were you hearing right? He talked back! Finally. Too bad he also had the audacity. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I never forget anything important to me,” he continued.
“Oh, sure you don’t forget anything,” you interrupted, mocking him.
“But it seems forgetting comes effortlessly for you. Since you probably don’t care about it, it doesn’t matter and it easily disappears from your mind, no?”
“I came to you!” you stopped his rambling. “And you forgot me! You forgot our promise! You forgot to fulfill it! I gave you so many chances and each time you acted as if you forgot everything. Even this stupid fucking choreography. I wanted to do it with you from the beginning. But then you acted like you never cared about it? You were late, you were not putting in effort, you were not even defending yourself.”
And it was out. You kept it in you for so long. It was bound to happen. Was it sort of kind of the reason why everything wrong that he was doing was making you so bitchy? Definitely yes. And now it was sort of kind of out in the open. You could finally confront him about him being the bad guy in your story.
“You, you knew all this time?”
He wasn’t sure he heard right. You knew. It wasn’t just him. But you too.
“I knew what? That we made a stupid promise that you never kept when we were ten? That we met again four years later and I came to you and you acted like you had no idea who I was? That the next year was the same? Even worse? That we were working in the same fucking industry but you never once remembered? Then, yes, yes I knew about all this.”
It was never a stupid promise. Never for him. Thanks to it he actually continued his dance lessons as a child. He ended up winning so many competitions. The scouts from the company noticed him. He debuted. He is here today, with you, preparing for the end of the year awards. He was always grateful for it, even when he thought you didn’t remember. It was never a stupid promise.
“I never forgot. I knew it was you!”
He was unbelievable.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you threw your hand in the air, in a sign of desperation.
“I was embarrassed, okay?” Wooyoung fidgeted in place. It was the first time he was going to admit this out loud. Not even in his thoughts did he ever admit it. “Because I wasn’t able to keep the promise and win, I felt like a failure.” Indeed, he never fulfilled his side of the promise. He did win the competition, but he didn’t “snatch” the first place from you. You were not there. And that was the only reason he was able to win. Which was proved years later when you two were competing against each other and you effortlessly won. He never got first place with you there.
“This is so dumb. I only made that promise with you because I thought you were sweet and cute,” you blushed, “and I didn't want you to abandon dancing, and I wanted to see you again the next year!”
“But you moved away.” He stopped your train of thoughts. As if he found the flaw in your story. It was 100% not only his fault here.
“But I moved away. And I was still hoping you’d win the stupid competitions so we’d meet at regionals!” Fair excuse. In fact, it was not your fault that you moved. You were too young and you were going where your parents were going.
“But then you acted like you didn’t know me there.” See? Another flaw in your story.
“I wanted to see if you remembered me! And it was obvious to me you didn’t!” Which seemed perfectly reasonable to your fourteen year old brain. Now? Not as much. But back then you could swear this was the most romantic thing you could think of - testing to see if he’d remember. Almost like testing the power of destiny.
“I wanted to see if you remembered me! I didn’t want to embarrass myself even more, hanging on to a promise from years ago.” Valid. Very valid. Extremely valid. Both to his fourteen year old self and the present self.
“Oh my god?” you groaned. “Not even when I made this whole elaborated plan to have you as my dance partner couldn’t you tell? It took me months to think of something.”
“You did say your favourite was Hongjoong though. That reinforced to me that you didn’t remember me in fact.”
You groaned. After you debuted you gave up on seeing Wooyoung again. He remained a bittersweet memory in your mind, thinking of him constantly. Wondering what he was up to. Then he debuted as well. The universe was really giving you another chance.
Now, you only had to find a way to be together and see if maybe maybe he could remember you. Which was obviously not easy. Be it award shows, or music shows, it was never the right moment or the right time.
Then an interesting thought crept into your mind. You were going to work on your solo album and have an important dance segment. You could definitely have a collaboration of some sorts with him. But how were you going to ask for it without it being too suspicious.
You never lied by saying you wanted to have a song produced by Hongjoong! It was just such a wonderful result of how your plan was going to work.
“I was giving you signs too!” Wooyoung complained.
“What?” you got closer to him. “The bunnies?” you raised your chin to face him. “The pictures with cryptic verses?” you squinted your eyes.
“What pictures with cryptic verse?”
There was no way you knew about it. You couldn’t. How could you?
“Don’t act dumb now. I know all about your secret account. And I know you know I know. I even followed you!”
Wooyoung was panicking. “How did you know it was mine?”
“Oh please, the profile picture is your hand as a pinky promise,” you started, “and some things you were writing were fitting with things you were doing.” you felt your cheeks burn just a little bit.
“Like what?” maybe you were bluffing, or simply testing him, as it seems you were testing him constantly. Nevertheless, he was curious what gave him away. It couldn’t have been just the profile pictures.
“You know…things.”
“I actually don’t,” he looked down at you through hooded eyes, suspicious. You were fucking bluffing!
You avoided his glare, looking away when you finally said with a small voice, “The shower heart convinced me it was you.”
Oh. Oh.
So it was like that. The unspeakable.
“See, that’s another event you were acting like it never happened and you never mentioned it.”
“You never mentioned it either,” you opened your eyes accusingly.
“Why do you keep waiting for me to do things first?” he closed the distance between your faces, breathing you in. “What was I supposed to say? Can you sit on my face again? Would you allow me the privilege to eat you out again?”
“I didn’t… I never…You…could’ve…” you swallowed your words because anyways you didn’t know what you wanted to say.
Wooyoung chuckled at your loss of words, couldn’t believe you were not having a comeback. It was fairly easy to do and he scolded himself for not doing it earlier, as you were too cute squirming there not uttering a word back to him.
“Cat got your tongue, huh?” he smirked, eyeing your lips. He wanted to test this limit of yours.
“Don’t be an asshole.” And…you were back to your bitchy defensive self.
“Oh, I’m the asshole? Don’t act like I’m the bad guy now.”
“No. I don’t act anything. Yes, you are the bad guy in my story. So what, I am probably the bad guy in your story. You know we are all bad guys in someone’s story.” You could ramble on and on, deflecting the attention from you to whatever you were trying to say.
Wooyoung cupped your cheek bringing back your attention to him. “Can you just… shut the fuck up for once and let me kiss you.”
He pressed his lips on yours, shyly nibbling at your lower lip. He deepened the kiss, lowering his hand on the side of your neck. You smiled against his lips and shortly giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Wooyoung furrowed his brows.
“You are acting differently.” You started playing with the zipper of his hoodie, unsure if you should say this. “One day you don’t even look me in the eyes and then the next you tell me to shut up and you do this?”
Wooyoung’s lips curled into a sheepish smile.
“You mean this?” And kissed you again, deeper and sloppier. “You just got me acting up.”
It was so easy for you to get lost into the kiss, feeling it like a warm embrace in your whole body.
“I think I might like you more when you actually talk back,” you said in between kisses, trying to gasp for air.
He continued a trail of kisses on your neck, which you found extremely dangerous.
“Maybe we should practice the choreography,” you whispered.
“I thought we were not supposed to practice today,” he breathed on your skin.
“Well since you came all the way here, we shouldn’t waste any time, right? Time is ticking and we should send a new recording.”
You felt his other hand caressing your waist. You really wished you weren’t wearing a sweater. He stopped his sweet sweet kisses and looked at you.
“I think I might like you more when you shut up,” he grinned a shit-eating grin.
“Smartass.”
You did say you liked him more when he was talking back and that was exactly what he was doing.
He didn’t remove his hand from you, one still resting on the small of your back and one still kneading your neck. He was waiting for your next move. If you really wanted to practice, that’s what he was going to do. If not, he also had other ideas.
“Fuck it,” you sighed, reaching for his lips.
You kissed him exactly how you wanted to kiss him the day he entered through the door of your practice room, hungrily and passionatly.
Wooyoung’s hands found their way under your sweater, gliding on your bare back for the first time and sending shivers through your body.
“Tell me to stop,” he gasped.
“Please don’t stop,” you breathed.
That was the moment the flip switched in his brain. You chose the section option. To hell with the dance practice.
He guided you to the nearest wall, where you could finally rest against something. You could swear your knees were going to fail on you.
You quickly unzipped his hoodie and peeled it off him smoothly. He wasted no time and took off his shirt in a swift motion. You trailed the lines of his chest with your fingers, leaving the ghost of your touch burning up his skin.
“One from me, one from you,” he tugged at the hem of your sweater. You raised your arms letting him take it off for you. You wanted to see him work for it. He removed your white top without warning, leaving you half naked.
“That was actually two from me,” you chuckled.
He was kissing the top of your breasts. Licking and delicately biting your soft spots.
“How beautiful,” he whispered against your skin.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, completely leaning between the wall and him and his kisses. You could feel him through your thin leggings and you loved that you had this effect on him. You couldn’t help but slowly move your hips. Yup, you were hot and bothered. How could you not, when you were showered in his sweet kisses.
His hand traveled lower, under your leggings.
“You do have a habit of not wearing underwear, huh?”
You felt your cheeks turning red. Yes, that was a habit you could say. A habit that you were so going to continue practicing from now on.
You unhooked your legs, allowing him to take off your leggings. He took his sweet time pulling them down, and then slowly kissing your leg up to your thigh, ending up with a sloppy kiss on top of your pussy.
He was in the middle of unzipping his pants when he stopped. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom.”
“That’s literally the last thing i care about right now,” you scoffed and unzipped his pants yourself.
Wooyoung gleamead and kissed your forehead tenderlly. “You are so perfect.”
You raised your right leg, to make space for him. He took out his cock, aligning himself at your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside you.
Your hips were moving by themselves, you wanted him deeper and deeper. Closer and closer. All of him.
He grabbed your other leg too, hooking them both behind his back. You were wrapped around him, locking him in place. There was no other place he’d rather be except between your legs.
You were softly moaning in his ear and he could swear this was what heaven sounded like.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, increasing his pace, “this feels better than I ever imagined.”
Your lips pursed in a devilish smile, “You imagined this?”
“And so many other things.”
You could not get enough of him. Your eyes were rolling back in pleasure and you were struggling to keep them open and focus on the opposite wall’s mirrors. You could see Woyoung’s back reflecting in the mirrors, his back muscles flexing with every little thrust. You just wanted to have a bite of it. Too delicious to resist. You rested your head on his shoulder, kissing and grazing it with your teeth. That should do. For now.
Wooyoung grabbed your ass cheeks, squeezing them, trying to pull you closer. You were feeling your orgasm, almost there, ready to make you explode and see fireworks.
“So good.”
“So beautiful.”
“So perfect.”
His praises were what sent you over the edge, riding through your high. For which he was thanking all the gods as he was ready to cum the moment he first kissed you.
He quickly pulled out as he felt he was going to cum and finished on your stomach. You looked down to your stomach, that was now wet and sticky.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get to ask. And I didn’t want to finish inside without asking.” He was breathing hecticly, recovering from his high.
You touched your stomach, your legs still hooked around him. You traced your fingers through his mess and brought them close to your lips, licking them clean, while keeping eye contact with him.
“You are killing me.” He said, looking up at the ceiling, trying to contain himself.
But oh his neck looked so beautiful.
And you definitely weren’t able to contain yourself, so you started kissing it.
“You’ll make me hard again,” he chuckled.
“And?” You smiled against his skin. “Didn’t you say you imagined more things? Show me what you had in mind.”
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A kiss may ruin a human life.
Oscar Wilde
-Masterlist- part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4
wc: 2,7k
warnings: sexual tension (?), mentions of death and kidnappings, reader has adhd, horny aaron, miscommunication again. pls let me know if there's more!
a/n: the story changed a bit but it will go back to the first plot eventually! is just that i had a few more ideas and decided to add them here instead of writing another fic. part 3 is aaron's pov so we'll get back to the angst of part 1. no use of y/n.
a/n²: did i make it seem like reader is gender neutral?
Silence.
Nothing but the sounds of your breaths could be heard in the room.
A room that now felt cold and dark, if it was uncomfortable before, now it was unbearable. None of you spoke, you were still waiting for him to say something and he was too shocked to form any coherent sentence.
"If you're not going to say anything-"
"No- i just, don't know where to start." his voice was low, quiet and unsure.
"Start from," you paused, trying to decide what you wanted to know more, "Sunday morning."
"What?" was he playing dumb?
"We got this case on sunday morning, that was when you started acting weird." please Hotch...
"Oh," he still didn't know what to do, but whatever he did now would change your relationship anyway, so, he should probably tell you the truth. "It's because, i- i knew we would have to share a room," he paused to find words that explained what he was feeling but you took it another way.
"What is so wrong about being around me that always gets you like this?" your voice broke a little, and you hated yourself for showing weakness.
"There's nothing wrong!" that came out louder than he intended and he saw the way you flinched, "sorry, but i need you to understand, there is nothing wrong about you. Please just stay quiet so i can finish this?" he pleaded and those usually frowned eyebrows were now raised, his eyes were pleading.
"Okay."
There was a pause, he was gathering his thoughts and giving you both time to calm down.
"From the moment i heard we would be staying together, i knew i would have to get a hold of myself, as a unit chief i couldn't just let go like i wanted to... like i want to," what?
"I love spending time with you, more than i should and it scares me. I thought that if i didn't get too close i would be fine and it worked, until we shared a room for the first time," he sighed, "You were so sweet and caring and it surprised me," that sounded more like a question "i expected that but i didn't expect to... like it so much."
"Hotch-"
"Wait." he glared at you.
When you remained quiet he started speaking again "Ever since you came to my office, i knew i was in trouble." he sighed and shook his head, "When Strauss told me about you i was ready to treat you just like any other agent who came to my unit, but when i saw you... I didn't know what it was about you that kept pulling me in but i didn't want it to stop, being around you healed a part of me that i wasn't aware was bleeding. The way you treated me, with no judgement for what I've done... you treated me like everybody else and still made me feel special... i let myself be fooled by hope, of... what we could be."
...
At this point you were speechless, Hotch has never said so much and your mind was still processing what he implied.
"I know it's wrong, i am your superior, fuck, I'm your boss, the one you should look up to, the one who should take care of you and here i am being the creepy guy." he laughed but there was no humor behind it. "I am so sorry i made you uncomfortable, it was never my intention to let my feelings come forward. If you want to file a complaint against me, i understand."
"Hotch... no." it came as a whisper, you coughed and tried again, "No, but, i still don't know what it means..." fuck, I'm dumb. "Feelings?"
"Feelings. For you."
"Like, romantic feelings?"
"Yes? i mean, if they were harmless i wouldn't have to tell you," with his usual frown back he looked at you unsure, as if you were discussing an unsub's methodology.
"Oh..." harmless? why would it be harmless? him having feelings for you was all you wanted!... file a complaint?
"That is... what i wanted for as long as I've known you." you looked at him not sure what to expect but he kept eye contact, you could see the moment he understood what you meant.
He did not look relieved.
...
"Fuck." he whispered and threw his head back, rubbing his eyes roughly with the pad of his fingers. "What do we do now?"
"I don't know, but from the way you're acting i take it you don't want to do anything..." it hurt to realize he did not want to do something, deep down you knew it wasn't so simple but at the moment you couldn't really think past the possible heartbreak.
"It's not like that."
"It seems exactly like that..."
"I'm just not sure we should act on it, i am not good for you." He raised his voice and turned so he was sitting with his feet touching the floor.
"So we should just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" you said while pushing the blankets and mirroring his position, except his legs were covered by plain black pants. Your grey shorts that barely showed underneath your oversized shirt did not help your fake confidence.
Your question was met with silence.
"Maybe." Yes.
Careful to not let him see how disappointed you were, you kept his gaze, looking just as tough as him.
Under your stare, his resolve almost slipped until you got up, the same way you did after finishing an interrogation. The way you seemed so sure of yourself almost got him believing that what he said didn't affect you. That same sound of your bag opening is what snapped him out of his trance.
"What are you doing?"
"I'll spend the night with Emily." your voice was low and steady. The walls you built up to protect yourself from things that could hurt you coming back up strongly, walls that you used to hide your emotions when you didn't want people to know how you were feeling and my god did they work. He hated to be met with a emotionless expression when you turned to grab something from your bed-
"You don't have to..."
"Yes i do." again, low and steady. "I'll sleep there tonight and tomorrow I'll book another room."
He didn't know what to say, that was the best thing to do but you being away meant he wouldn't get to hear you breathing...
"We only have a few hours before we need to go back to work, you should let Emily sleep." trying to make you feel guilty didn't seem to work as you kept gathering your things. He was getting anxious now and when you passed him to pick up your phone from the bedside table he pulled the device out of your hand. "Stay. it's too late for you to be walking around the hotel." he was hoping that if he used his work voice maybe you'd listen.
"Give it back."
"No."
He was towering over you and the feeling he felt before came back, if you kept looking at him like that, he would break.
He couldn't afford to break.
So he left you standing there, walking to the bathroom with your phone in hand. You stood like that even after he slammed the door, shocked he had really just taken your phone just like your parents did when you were a teenager. After the shock passed you almost laughed at how insane this was, did he really think that this would stop you?
He knew it didn't stop you but he hoped it would. He had taken your phone but it's not like you needed it if you were going to stay with Emily. Looking at himself in the mirror, the eyes he was met with did not seem like him, for the first time in a while he did not know what to do. When he went inside he didn't even know what he was thinking exactly, only knew that he wanted to get away from you as fast as possible without making you leave the room. Looking around, his eyes fell to the same towel he used earlier that now was folded beside the sink, in his rush to take a shower he didn't think much about where to put it but he was sure he hadn't folded it.
You don't remember hearing the lock, if he didn't lock the door you could just go in and get your phone back, even the idea of fighting again seemed appealing, maybe if you fought with him some more your feelings would dissipate...
A shower always helped him take his mind off of things but right now he could barely move without being reminded of your presence. The towel you folded because he had thrown it somewhere carelessly and you knew he would want to shower again before work, your own towel and dirty clothes that laid together on the floor, the liquid soap you used that normally would be kept in a corner with your skin care products but that now was right beside his shampoo, you were also desperate for sleep and yet you made up time to fold his towel... yeah a shower wouldn't hurt.
Hearing the water running somehow duplicated your want to go inside, finding yourself right in front of the door with your hand on the handle when-
"Fuck!" a whispered scream, muffled by the water yet distinct enough for you to understand.
If you were to go in, you would have to be prepared to face him... the door would make noise and there was a chance that maybe the curtain was not closed enough and he would see you coming in, if you were to go in... it would have to be now.
This is definitely not what he planned to do, the initial idea was to take a shower to clean his head from any thoughts of you, not to fill it it more thoughts... definitely not these kind of thoughts. Now he was hard and even more frustrated.
Both his hands were on the wall, his head resting on it while he contemplated what to do, touching himself while thinking of you when you were at the other side of the door right after a fight felt dirty. When his left hand started slipping down a couple knocks echoed followed by your voice, no longer the voice that made him feel small.
"Hotch? can i come in?" he should tell you no, what if you somehow managed to see the evidence of his perverted thoughts?
"Yes." yes please, come in, come see for yourself that I'm just as worst as those guys on the street that you held yourself back from punching.
You were right. The door made a loud noise that made you cringe, looking at the mirror you were met with the damp white curtain, the fact that he was standing naked behind it right now was enough to make you forget why you were here in the first place, a loud buzzing made you remember. Walking quickly to where he had put your phone, right above his towel, picking it up you were met with a call from Rossi and 3 new messages.
"Dave is calling." you figured Aaron had also heard the phone buzzing. "Hello?"
"You're awake!"
"Uhm, yeah..." weird.
"Good, is Aaron with you?" come on Dave, you know he is.
"Yes he is." you were facing the mirror and saw when Aaron reached a hand up to pull the curtain back before letting go, apparently he remembered you were there and he couldn't just get out, especially given his current state...
"Great, i called him 3 times and he didn't pick up" there was a pause, "Thought that was unusual, he usually picks up in the first ring..." he was talking in a suggestive tone but, he often used it when talking about Aaron.
"Oh, he's taking a shower..." no, no, no you shouldn't have said that! he can probably hear the shower running-
"At 3am?" he laughed, "Weird guy, but well, tell him boy genius found something that could help the profile, we're heading back to the station right now."
"Okay, I'll let him know."
Guess you weren't sleeping tonight, at least Aaron did, having a sleep deprived guy driving you wouldn't be good.
"What did he want?" you didn't realize you hadn't said anything after the call ended, snapping your head up you were met with Aaron watching you from behind the curtain, his hair was damp and he looked flushed.
"Spence found something, they're heading back to the station now." he nodded, his wet hair shaking and a few droplets of water falling down his face, it looked obscene really. "Anything else?"
"He said he called you and found strange that you didn't answer," you were avoiding looking at him now but still saw in your peripheral vision when he nodded while humming.
There was a moment of awkwardness until you realized you could just leave, so you did just that.
"Wait!" he called out before you could fully step out of the room, "Can you hand me the towel?"
You didn't answer but still went back inside to grab it, the fabric felt soft and comforting unlike his wet and cold hand when it accidentally touched your fingers.
"Wait for me? I'll be out quick."
"I don't-"
"Please?"
"Sure." you sighed.
...
Closing the door behind yourself felt more relieving than catching an unsub... okay, that was an overstatement but the feeling was there. Not knowing how long it would take for him to be out but aware he only had the clothes he was wearing to bed in the bathroom, you tried to change as fast as you could, having Aaron seeing even more skin would be too embarrassing.
You had done a good work earlier picking up your clothes, all of them were stuffed inside your go bag and you could see a white button up, white tank top and the black pants you wore today sticking out, it would have to do. Deciding to take one step at a time you pulled the shorts down, your shirt was big enough to cover your ass if Aaron suddenly opened the door, thankfully, it did not happen. Taking your shirt off felt a bit too risky, just having the cool air of the room hit your bare back and chest would make you shiver, if Aaron saw it you would be left shaking. Pants buttoned and shirt left for later you picked up your sneakers, boots were too much for a time you were supposed to be sleeping, just as you were finishing tying them the loud noise of the door opening and heavy footsteps filled the room.
"Ready?" he seemed out of breath, you hadn't looked up yet but you were sitting in your bed and he had to walk in front of you to get to his. When he did, you could see the black pants pooling around his feet.
"Not yet."
Picking the shirt and tank top you had throw a little further on the bed you risked a glance in his direction, bare shoulders, pale enough you could make out the outline of where his hand were gripping a second before, his tense muscles were aching even more now, having to interact with you and pretend to not have almost jerked off to the thought of you minutes ago had only made it worse.
Hearing your bed creaking he looked back, he supposed you were walking to the bathroom to change your shirt, oh what he would do to have you change right in front of him... fuck, not again!
Adjusting his pants, again, he tried to focus on the case.
Women around 20-25 were being kidnapped, found dead 3 days later. The case was pretty much like any other but the city decided to not cooperate, the team was stressed and it doubled when another woman went missing yesterday, one of the police officers knew her family and almost started a fistfight with Derek when we took a break, not pleased with the fact that we weren't machines and actually needed to take breaks eventually.
"Now i am." you were back, he hadn't even realized he continued moving while thinking.
"Good. Let's get going."
Now with the work mask put on, both were ready to act like no words were exchanged tonight.
a/n³: i read this like 3 times and i still don't trust my work lol, I'll try to find a beta reader so i can post faster.
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Goodbye Summer
"The friend label is a label I'm going to hate. Our story ended without even started."
Pairing : Mingi x afab!reader
Word counts : 4k
Contents : highschool au, angst, flashback, lived by the beach, TW! mention of divorce, slightly depressed reader, miscommunication issue.
A/N : The fic is inspired by "f(x) - Goodbye Summer". It's been my favorite song since it was released (bcs relatable af). Also this one took a set in early 2000 with Taiyou No Uta as my reference. Oh btw I don't use japanese semester system, I matched it with how it goes in my country. I hope everyone enjoy it! ♡
2nd Year. Autumn 2006
You walked through the class corridor while sorting some papers from the student council. You heard fast paced step behind you,
“Better watch out girly,” he took your papers and continue running again.
He laughs maniacally, at some point he stop in the middle of corridor waiting for you to catch him up. As he saw you getting closer, he lift your paper high up. He amused by your action, struggling to reach those papers.
“Mingi! Can you stop!” You keep trying to reach it.
“Nah, I don’t want to,” he lift it even higher.
“If you don’t stop any moment, I’m gonna-”
“Hmm? Gonna what?” He put his face in front of you, staring into your eyes. You saw the opportunity as he lower his grip.
“Gonna grab this damn papers, thanks by the way,” you managed to get it, swiftly walk away from him.
He followed you, asking if you’re getting busy again as student council. You responded him with annoyance till both of you immersed in conversation as you walked back to your classroom.
2nd Year. Winter 2006
You blew your hands to heat it up. Today is awfully the coldest day since winter started. Silly you, you forgotten your mittens leaving it out nicely on your study desk. You keep cursing to yourself as you only brought limited hot pack and is enough for your stomach only. Everything’s ruined because the exam period.
“You keep blowing it like a freshly baked bread.” Mingi suddenly walk beside you.
You only gave him side eye. Too lazy to respond him. Like who the hell blowing a fresh baked bread out of the oven, that isn’t funny at all. You muttering some words and keep rubbing your hands.
He notice it before he took one of your hand and guide it to his winter coat pocket. He hold your hand tightly. You took a glance at him, he keep a straight face remain unbothered. It’s not the usual himself. You knew him that he’s a playful silly guy who always teasing you whenever he likes.
“Stay still if you don’t mind, I don’t bring mine too,” his eyes darting towards his hands.
You shrugged a little bit, nodding your head. “Thanks Mingi. We almost at school too.”
He smiled and grip your hand tighter in his pocket.
2nd Year. Spring 2007
“.. I like you,” faintly you heard a love confession.
New semester is just started and the vibe suddenly change. ‘New semester new you’ , ‘love is in the air’, and you blame the pollen scattering everywhere as it worsen your allergy. Just like the situation right now, you can find love confession almost every spot in the school including the stairs.
You never get the hype of other students cheering on it like an interesting show. And now you’re trapped, have been hiding for solid 7 minutes on the 3rd floor stairs. Afraid of make them feel awkward if you suddenly pass by them. So you politely hiding in your place. You’ve been on your flip phone to kill some time, but you’re growing impatient wondering who take a love confession so long.
Curiosity kills the cat like people said, you took a little peek between the railings. You saw the girl, but you’ve got no idea who she is. Then you tilt your head to get a better view, you saw the tall familiar figure. You recognize those side profile, those tall nose, and those eyes, it’s Mingi. Your heart sting for a while then you sat on the stairs quietly trying to grasp the situation. At the end you only heard their laughter slowly fading away.
2nd Year. Summer 2007
“Got some plans for summer?” Mingi poked your arms.
You lift your head trying to look at him. Headache taking over you as today is the last day of exam. 2 weeks of distress you only facing your books non-stop. And finally your hard work has paid of when the summer break getting closer.
“Dunno, gotta wait the result come out first.”
“Wanna go to the beach?” He asked you again.
You let out a heavy sigh, “I’m worried if I’ll take summer class.”
“We’re going afternoon, incase if one of us get that supplementary class,” he assured you.
You nod at him. He pat your shoulder before leaving you to talk to another classmate. Everything felt awkward after you saw him that day on the spring. First of all you’re not that close to him. Both of you only a casual classmate. But since that day, you tried your best to avoid him hoping it’ll hide the strange feeling in your heart. Deep down inside, you intended to move on from him hoping you can be your usual self. And this summer break is surely a perfect timing.
✧
The summer breeze blew your hair gently, leading you to grip your hat tightly. Mingi told you to meet him before the railway that separate almost half of the town. You waited him, sitting on your bike. Your eyes look towards the sea from this distance. The beach is not difficult to reach, it only took 10 minutes from where you live. But going with him is a rare thing.
There’s still no sign of him. You pull out your flip phone, trying to check the time. Undecided whether sent him a message or not, you keep opening and closing his contact. During the summer break you didn't contact him at all. Still unsure about your feelings, you’re afraid of falling too deep. So you just wait for his message if he remembers those plan he made before. You reread his last message,
(Minkimingi) Meet me by the railway tomorrow afternoon, cya!
You let out a heavy sigh and finally send him one,
(You) Where are you? I might get carried by the wind cuz waiting you for too long.
The vibration startled you, didn’t expect him to replied you so soon.
(Mingkymingi) I don’t live by the shore my dear princess, please be patient.
Gasped by the nickname he gave, you slump your head to the bike handlebar. ‘Goddamit Song Mingi, I shouldn't have come, right?’ Still battling with your inner thought, suddenly you feel a cold sensation at the back of your neck. You turned quickly only to find him chuckling while holding a can of cold drink.
“As a good friend, I know you must be craving this,” he handed you the drink.
Yeah friend. You forced a smile before reaching those drink. Open it up instantly then chugging it. You’re observing him without you realize. He’s still in his summer uniform. As you guess he took the supplementary class. Beads of sweats rolled down his forehead, of course that’s the result of him riding his bike in a hurry. Till his eyes met yours, returning your gaze.
“I never expect you’ll suit in those white.. flowy.. dress..”
“Friends do not do that,” you put emphasis on your words by reflex.
“That?”
Without thinking you answered him quickly,
“complimenting each other.”
He ruffled his hair as frustration drawn on his face.
“Well.. let’s say it’s not a compliment, but what’s wrong with friends complimenting each other?”
Fed up by every time he mention that label, you pedal your bike away towards the beach leaving him alone. You heard him yelling from distance,
“we’re still waiting others! Where are you going?!”
“I’m tired of waiting, meet me at the beach!” You yelled back at him.
✧
The sky began to show its golden tinge. The seagulls flew to and fro over the sea. The waves rolled rhythmically and some of your classmate surf on them. Everyone is enjoying this moment, some of them playing volleyball, some of them splashing the waters towards each other, then here you are sat on the beach while thinking about your original intention of coming here.
You guessed nothing changes. The fact you’re still bitter by him is irritated you even more. You’re eyes are always on his presence, knew damn well that he’s still looking good without even trying. Just like right now, he wear a loose black t-shirt damped by water mixed his sweat, school uniform pants still hanging on him, and those brushed back damped hair while riding his surfboard.
“Say cheese!” One of your classmates push the camera shutter. Capturing the summer break moments before the new school year starts. You couldn’t help but pose for a few photos, until you didn’t realize Mingi pulled your hand. He mouthed you to follow him.
Obediently follow him, you started pedaling your bike behind his. He took you to a higher place than the shore. Stopping his bike, he look back waiting for you. Not too long, you stopped right beside him.
“We can get a better view here,” he smiled at you while his hand is pointing the sky.
You raised one of your eyebrow in confusion. He chuckled by your expression. Then he continued his words,
“I don’t know what you’ve going through. Somehow lately you seems.. different. I hope this will makes you better.”
Suddenly some loud bursts heard along the night sky decorated by the flickering light of fireworks. Leading you spontaneously looking up at it. It’s beautiful just like him. Like the light in the midst of a dark frantic mind. Even the fireworks weren’t enough to keep you entertained, you end up staring at him. Capturing the way how the smile carved onto his face.
“I like you Mingi,” you said it in a whisper.
You know it won’t be heard. You know that he belongs to someone else. And you know he appreciate you as a friend. At least this will ease your feelings even just a little.
✧
The nights were getting colder. Both of you walked side by side while leading the bikes towards home. You talked to each other properly after a couple of months dealing with your antics, avoiding mingi by making some excuses whenever he came close to you.
You stop at the railway, he continue to lead his bike till the other side of railway. He gave you a small waved. You return it while looking at his back getting further away.
“Mingii! I hope we’re in the same class next year!” You yelled at him.
He looked back, raised his hand to give an ok sign from a distance.
3rd Year. Spring 2008
You rushed out from your class only 2 minutes before the class started, not in the mood to be a good and obedient student today. You’re gonna exploded in any minutes, home is in a mess and so does your head. Still hesitated skipping class at the library or leaving the school, you stopped your step right in front of the school gym door. Peeking through the window, you saw someone is dribbling the basketball.
You open the door slowly, decided to skip your class here. Startled by the sound he look into your direction. You thought there’s another students but none of them. It’s only him.
“Oh.. Mingi?” Yes that’s him, who you never talk to since those summer. Both of you only passed each other for a few times. Just saying hello and nothings more. Human can only wish, but fate said the otherwise. It all happened because you’re completely in different class.
“Hey, what’s up,” he greeted you back before tossing the ball towards you.
You catch it, slowly dribbling it towards his direction. He played along with you, a wide smile adorning his face. Trying to grab the ball before he asked you,
“How’s life?”
You almost tripped taken aback by his question.
“Um.. yeah.. great I guess,”
Finally you passed him through then you managed to shoot the ball. Mocking him, you jump out of the joy. He put a ‘Just watch, I can do better’ expression towards you. The squeak of shoes and laughter filled the gym. Both of you were playing in the joy, even you forget all of your tangled mind.
The least thing you ever wanted coming all of a sudden. You saw your teacher’s silhouette through the window. You quickly grabbed mingi’s hand and guide him to hide under the window hoping your teacher won’t notice. Both of you stayed still for a couple of minutes.
He checked if it safe already, then decided to leave the gym quietly while holding your hand. You both tried to stifle the laughter and keep walking only to find your teacher waiting for you at the corner. It ended by the punishment after such a long tired lecture. Mingi and you were on the knees side by side while raising both of your hand right in front of the gym.
“Sorry, we're busted,” he whispered to you.
“It’s not even your fault, please don’t blame yourself,” you mouthed back to him.
After quite some times, he looked at you with a mischievous smile. You're pretty sure he got some wicked plan. He gave the signal by counting down in whisper. You take steps, risking for everything he’ll do. On the last count you both ran away from your teacher hand in hand, giggling all the way.
3rd Year. Summer 2008
Everyone gathered, some of them were hugging each other with laughter, and some of them were crying in joy. Today is the graduation day. Right after the graduation ceremony you strolling around the school, trying to recall everything that was happen for 3 years you studied here.
Library was your best friend in your senior year. You swept the bookshelf with your palm as you walk pass through it. Opened one by one of your favorite books, before putting it back to the shelf. You leaned to the wall, closing your eyes. Last year of school is the roughest. Your parents divorced, you lose the desire to make some friends, leading you alone in the most of your times, and you lost him in some type of ways.
You saw him from the window. He’s friendly as he ever be. Talking and laughing with his friends. He never changed and so does your feelings. He always be the one you’ve crushed the most. But you know your place and never engaged those feelings. You wondered if you can talk to him for the last time.
Your 2nd year classmates waving at you. Shouting from the schoolyard under where the other students gathered including him,
“Heyyy!! Come here!” They keep calling your name with the smile on their face.
“Yeahh wait for me!” You shouting back at them as you hurriedly left the library going down through the stairs.
When you reach the schoolyard, you throw yourself at them. Hugging them in joy. Tears almost rolling down your eyes, you didn’t talk too much with them either for the last year. Even though you passed each other at school, you’ve been busy by your own problems that ended up distancing yourself from others.
Your classmates keep taking pictures, asking you to join them. They’re busy pulling in everyone whoever been the same class with them to take pictures together. As all of your classmates are almost gathered, you positioned yourself to take a group picture. Your shoulder bumped with someone accidentally.
“Oh sorry, I don’t mean to-”
“No problem,” his eyes widen before he smiled at you.
It’s Mingi. He’s standing next to you, joining as you do. You took a glance at him, he lose the second button of his uniform already. You shake your head, then you look into your friend’s camera, ready to take the group picture.
Before you left the group’s photo session, he pulled your hand as if he wanted to say something. The expression on his face was hard to read until he finally sighed and smiled at you.
“What?” waiting on his response.
“Nah, nothing. See you later princess.”
He pat your shoulder for the last time before he left you standing alone. Your tears fell without you realizing it. There’s no “later” for you. You won’t be here and you don’t know when you’ll be back. At the end you only murmuring to yourself.
“That should be my line silly.”
Summer 2023
“Babe I remind you once more, don’t forget about today reunion okie.”
You chuckled, betting that she’s already telling you for a hundred times this week.
“I promise you I’ll come. Don’t you hear me right now? You can guessed where I am.”
The sound of crashing waves and birds chirping is in the background. You walk along the beach while on the phone with your friend. You just return to this town full of memories early in the morning.
“Wha- what! why don’t you tell me when you arrived?”
“It’s not a surprised if I tell you sooner.”
Both of you talked animatedly for a while until you ended the call, assured her for the last time that you’ll come to the class reunion.
15 years since you left this town to a completely opposite province. Moved to your mother's hometown, helping her business after your graduation the aftermath of your parents divorced. You lose contact with everyone and ended up missed two reunions. But somehow last week an unknown number called you. That was your 2nd year classmate back in the high school, excitedly inform you that there will be a reunion soon.
✧
The restaurant atmosphere is filled with laughter by your friends, reminiscing their memories when they were still in high school. They chatted with each other lively. Some of them enjoying the dish while chugging the beverages, and some of them are curious about you due to your disappearance without a trace for years.
An hour passed by the event started. A figure you didn't expect and missed appears. He slide open the restaurant door. The same wide smile adorned his face as he greeted the others. Unless he looks much more mature. Short black hair neatly styled with a few strands fell over his forehead, glasses hanging on the nose bridge, a silver necklace with a cross pendant dangle on his neck, button up white shirt that it’s sleeve rolled up almost touching his elbow finished with a black vest and pants perfectly fit on his body.
The smile slowly faded when his eyes fall into yours. A look of disbelief crossed on his face when he saw you here. He brushed away those expression immediately then took a seat in front of you. You two exchanged glances for a moment. You wanted to talk to him, but your voice hitched. Heavy feeling fills your heart, opening up the old memories that you thought were all over.
He tapped his fingers on the table looking a little nervous. Occasionally sipping his glass of beer to divert it. Without realizing it, your eyes fell on his ring finger. A white gold ring circled his finger sweetly. Somehow makes you feel a little relieved to open up a conversation.
“It’s been a long time Mingi.”
“Yeah, good to see you,” he took a deep breath before continuing his words.
“You’re… gone. Just disappeared without a single notice.”
“I went back to my hometown.”
“Why don’t you tell me before?” He showed you the same expression as the last time you saw him.
“It’s just so sudden, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you”
He sighed for a second time,
“As long as you’re fine. That’s all.”
“I’m doing great. Thanks for your concern.”
You pat the back of his hand, assured him that you’re completely fine. He only replied you with a bitter smile.
“Listen.. listen! Guess what? I managed to print the damaged photo,” one of your friend raised a big photo album proudly.
“Why it seems like in every reunion you always got new photos for the same reason.” Chirped by the other friends.
“Shut up! You don't even know how difficult it is to repair an old damaged roll film,” she rolled her eyes.
She put the album to one of the tables before instruct them to take turns if they want to look at it.
“And.. this one for you.” She handed you a big brown postal envelope,
“everyone already got all of this photos. I don’t know why some of it are missing so others who likes taking pictures complete it, including him.” She pointed Mingi with her head.
“Ah.. thank you.” You received the envelope and looked at it carefully.
Meanwhile Mingi immersed on seeing the album. He turn the page one by one slowly. Sometimes he chuckles when seeing some funny moments. Until he noticed the page with unfamiliar photos.
Oh maybe this is the newly printed, he thought to himself. He always pays attention to you in every photos that was taken. Only to realized your eyes were always on him in almost every photos. He turned the page quickly to confirm that.
Before you open the brown envelope, Mingi tap your hand lightly.
“Can we talk outside? If you don’t mind.”
You nodding at him, proceed to follow him outside.
He took his glasses off, pressing the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger. Then he looked at you in miserable stare. You notice something doesn’t feel right.
“What’s wrong Mingi?”
He averted his eyes before pull out a wedding invitation to you. Stammering on his words,
“I’ll.. get married next month.”
It doesn't hurt that much when you receive it. You definitely expect it. However life still goes on doesn't it?
“Oh! Congratulation on your wedding. I hope you’ll enjoy your new life.” You tried to smile at him.
Clenched his jaw, he’s trying to suppress the frustration. He's been looking for you for almost 11 years. Until finally gave up in the last few years, and only to find you appeared at the class reunion unexpectedly.
“Is it easy to say that?”
You don’t quite understand what he really means,
“..isn't it easy as long as she's the love of your life?”
Lowered his head, reality just hits him back.
“Yeah.. Right..”
He pulled you into his arm tightly. You’re frozen by his sudden action, still trying to digest what was just happen. When you intended to let go, he told you his final request.
“Please let me hug you for the last time.. as a friend.”
✧
Your eyes wandered out, sitting by the train window. It’s quite a long day, you take the last train after returning from the reunion. Can’t deny it, you feel ecstatic after meeting them.
Shifted your bag to grab the phone, your hand touched the brown envelope that was given to you earlier. You decided to pull it out from your bag, loosen up the strap to see it’s content.
You look at the photo by photo carefully. School festival, school trips, graduation day, and mostly summer breaks, everything’s stored well. Except one photo tucked in between has a contrast vibe.
The paper is duller and it was taken at night unlike the rest. You recognize it, that was your side portrait with fireworks in the night sky. You turn the photo over, there is the date and a small note written on it.
August xx, 2007
“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it my princess?”
Covered your mouth in disbelief. Tight feeling rises in your chest made you lose focus till some photos fell over the train floor. You pick them out one by one while looking at it.
Your eyes automatically on him by the photos. He always looks at you from a distance just like you did. The tears flowed unstoppably. All this time he also felt the same way. You hate him who always hide behind the word “Friend” as if he’s pushing you away. You closed your eyes, it's all too late now.
“I liked you too Mingi.”
Only the sound of train tracks was heard afterwards.
✧
The friend label is a label I’m going to hate.
The feelings I’ve hidden still remain as a painful secret memory.
The photos that can’t define our relationship is a heartbreaking story.
Our story ended without even started.
- Goodbye Summer
a/n :
They used analog camera that contains film roll in it.
"He lose the second button of his uniform." That means he already gave it to someone who's supposed to be important (romantically) because it's located near the heart. People believed it's same as giving your heart to someone. Based on japanese students when it's graduation season.
Cutie patootie looks like this in the reunion, minus the tie.
"The moon is beautiful" is a popular japanese phrases 「月が綺麗ですね」 (Tsuki ga kirei desune). It means "I like you."
#song mingi#mingi x reader#ateez mingi#ateez fic#ateez x reader#ateez#mingi angst#ateez ff#kpop fanfic#ateez fanfic#ateez angst#mingi#shocymer
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the band-aid to my wounds
Older!Eddie Munson x naive!Fem reader - eventual twins Steve Harrington x reader x Kurt Kunckle series| pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 … TBC
Summary: After stumbling into an old barn after being stranded by your freshly new ex boyfriend, you wake up strangely in a room..that isn't yours..
warnings: talks of cheating, abuse, angst, slight stockholm syndrome at a glance, anxiety, childhood trauma, parent problems; daddy issues, eventual smut, cursing, drinking, smoking, perviness, slight dub-con, miscommunications, blood mention
word count: idk? 1k?
June 12th, 1988 the roads were closed off.
I have no idea why im still together with this asshole, why am i so stupid? oh because id do anything for people to love and not leave me. Looking at him now..hands beating the steering wheel, veins popping through his temples..not to mention his breath. Ashton my oh so loving, narcissist, no good boyfriend. We've been together for 6 years, basically high school sweethearts. Went from flirty glaces, to lab partners, to collage students with an alcohol addiction. Mainly his addiction...he got me started on it.
Ashton basically took me in with his fatherly like protectiveness when we first got together. He was walking me to my front door after a bowling date he asked me out to my sophomore year, of course i said yes.; until the front door opened. Uh oh, dads home; Bill. The moment the door opened i watched my father tackle Ashton to the ground without so much as a reason screaming words like "get off my property, boys like you should be dead in a gutter, ill kill you"...
Lets just say that date night was a bit too eventful for my liking.
My dad always had a problem with Ashton because he went to highschool with his father. Ashtons dad was a bully back in the day, made my dads life a living hell.. took everything away from him. the girl, the looks, the job..
Dave, Ashtons father, was caught making out with Shannon, my dads ex lover but also first love. Dave knew he had the upper hand when it came to getting the things he wanted. Hell, Shannon seduced him into it. Shannon was only with my dad for the money. Got knocked up but gave him the baby and ran away to be with his dad. As you can see I am that baby now today.
I made a promise to Ashton after sneaking him to my bedroom window that same night cleaning his wounds; that it was me and him against the world. He knew about me and my parents relationship. How my step-mother only has good things to say about me in a room full of people, but how she degrades me behind closed doors. How my dads drinking problem gave him alcohol poisoning, twice' and about his anger problems. You'd think being in a household that is always loud would help you shape up to loud sounds in the future. Boy was that theory proven wrong.
anytime someone yells or raises their tone, you're immediately in fight or flight response. tense..anxious. You hate going to basketball games just for that reason. Its uncomfortable.. and he knew that, but apparently in this moment, he didn't give a fuck-
"Did you hear me??" Ashton says impatiently. "No im sorry, i cant hear when you mumble.." you reply
you also hated when people uttered things under their breath.
dad does that shit.
"Don't be smart with me y/n, ill leave you right here,right now in the middle of the fucking road
"Yeah whatever Ashton, just stop talking to me and drive" feeling the breaks pull forward and in a flash he was out of the drivers seat, and already pulling you out of the passenger-
"WHAT THE FUCK" i yell- what the fuck are you doing Ashton?”
“Shut up!” he smacks me. Your eyes widen in more shock than fear over anything. “Did you j-just hit me?” i ask with a scratched voice--
“I told you more than once not to back talk me didnt i?”
“i didn’t.. it was once and i stopped ashton”-
-“You’ve done it all goddamn night, accusing me of cheating, clinging onto me when i ran into Tommy, i told you to give me some fucking space --i interrupt him.
“YOU did cheat on me you asshole!! That bitch was fucking bragging about it in the bathroom”—
“Do you really think after what 4 years-“6 actually“ i say pissing him off further. he looks at you angrily
He sighs. “Do you really think after years of being together, i would do that to you?” he say looking down at the ground sadly; making you instatly regret your words
“..no-no of course not i just thou”-
-“You thought wrong! he snaps-I would never do that to you baby..y/n?” he says letting go of the grip on my arms, caressing my cheek-“..I know you get a little confused sometimes, its okay come here” he says pulling you into a deep hug
“..im sorry ash”-
“shh” he coos.
“I really thought—what the fuck is that?” you shove him away
“Y-you piece of shit!!” you pull around back collar piece of his shirt up to his face; showing him the peach colored lipstick stain
“Are you fucking serious Ashton?” his eyes widen and stomach drops when he sees the prominent evidence of his past events—
“B-baby look-“
“No! fuck you were done!”
He grabs me closer, “No we fucking arent- ive gave you everything! he starts shouting making you flinch
P-please stop yelling at me! you plea tears rolling down your face
“Just—here” he opens the car door “just get back in and ill explain on the way”—
“No.” you shove past him running and crying
“Y/N come back here!. its too dark—
“ i dont care leave me alone!”
“Y/n theres crazy people out here..!”
you stop in your tracks, turning back to say- “You’re the crazy person!”
he laughs. “Oh im crazy? Ill show you fuckin crazy”—he says marching over to the drivers side of the car starting it back up—mumbling ill show you a fucking crazy person babe—and he spees off
you cant believe he actually just left you.. standing here.
“ASSHOLE!” you shout regulardess if hes still there or not, turning back around to walk down the cold empty road
are you fuckig kidding me?
wow he fooled me
how didnt i see this before
did he love me?
he says he does
then why did he leave me..
fucking jerk!!
The long 7 mile walk with a head full of shitty thoughts walk you to a sun burnt orange barn.
you're exhausted. your hearts broken. your feet hurt. its too dark to keep walking
"I mean i could crash here right?" you say already walking towards the musky building
hay bells, chickens, tools. looks already owned
you dont care you just need a place to rest you head for a bit.
stinks in here. muttering to yourself, opening and shutting the barn door behind you.
perfect you say spotting an old rocking chair..and yard sale signs?
does somebody live here?
you're too exhausted to think any more tonight
this'll do. taking your jacket off to use as a prop pillow, climbing into the chair almost immediately drifting off.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
whats that smell? smells like bacon?
bacon? your eyes are still shut but you can sense a different environment around you. Fluttering your eyes open.. a clock? pictures? what?-jumping up at the sound of a shoe
"WHO ARE YOU?" your already in flight or fight mode
"Whoa whoa its okay, im the owner of the barn i found you in”.
is he lying?
"YOU'RE LYING!" you look around in a panic
"Sweetheart if i was lying, how come i specifically found you in my rocking chair, you must of been tired, i got my buddy who also runs the farm to scoop you up and bring you to our guest bedroom, couldn't just leave a woman out in the open like that.. especially at night"
your stomach knots when he calls you sweetheart.
okay maybe he harmless, just very kindly harmless?
"Here" he throws his arm out, "I'm Eddie, Eddie Munson."
- - is this interesting so far? lmk- -
reblogs appreciated:>
#older!eddie x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#steve harrington x reader#kurt kunkle x reader#stockholm syndrome#daddy!eddie munson#daddy issues#naive reader#eddie munson x steve harrington#steddie x reader#kurtsworld96#joseph quinn#joe keery#perv!eddie munson#dilf!eddie munson#perv!steve harrington#tw abandonment
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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥 ♡ choi yeonjun // mlist.
After facing disappointment with love for years upon years, you have chosen to replace romance with dance in your life, dedicating your entire time to this dance academy you’re employed at. It’s not that you hate men now, you just don’t expect to fall for them anymore because all they do is break your heart. And then Choi Yeonjun enters your life as a new recruit at the academy – sweet, adorable, soft spoken, kind and younger than you. He is everything you have never found attractive in a guy before. But somehow, you're helplessly spiraling for him.
❧ choi yeonjun x f. reader | 16+ | smau ♡ comedy ♡ angst ♡ strangers to friends to lovers!au ♡ dance academy!au ♡ 98-liner!reader ♡ dancer!reader ♡ dancer!yeonjun ♡ slow burn.
❧ warnings! profanity, an ABUNDANCE of suggestive jokes, mentions of people's sex lives (or lack thereof), death & murder threats as jokes, some of the characters being assholes for no reason, reader being a commitment phobe, a lot of pining, a ton of miscommunication (hehe ofc <3), misunderstandings, unnecessary heartbreaks + more will be added as the series progresses!
❧ featuring! all of txt | jimin & jungkook (bts) | sakura & kazuha (le sserafim) | yeji & ryujin (itzy) | keeho (p1harmony) | somi (soloist, ex i.o.i).
❧ playlist! trampoline - zayn & shaed ║ easy - camila cabello ║ lavender haze - taylor swift ♪
❧ status! 23.04.23 ⇢ tba. | on-going | bi-weekly updates
notes! heyyy, guys! yes, rya smau era 2k23 hehe! i had this idea for a very angsty fic where an older reader has feelings for a younger yeonjun but can't accept it bec he's not her "type"... but when i tried to write it, it got soooo sad and heavy soooo fast that i had to give up 😭 SO! i reckoned why not attempt to do an smau w a lighter version of this concept??? let's hope this turns out okay (:
pls be kind! the last time i wrote an smau was in 2018 so my creativity's got rust in every crevice (': but constructive criticism + suggestions are more than welcome! 🫶
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00. intro ║ 01. more nepotism hires ║ 02. grandpa and grandma ║ 03. break a leg (but not yours) [written: 1k] ║ 04. do you like flowers ║ 05. ✨aRtTtT✨ ║ 06. let the boy feel a woman's touch ║ 07. support system ║ 08. liking people we can't have ║ 09. it IS weird ║ 10. ‼ trouble ‼ ║ 11. connecting some big ass dots ║ 12. it's a work in progress ║ 13. dance crush ║ 14. enemies to lovers ║ 15. ohhh my god i'm so stupid ║ 16. at least that’s how it began ║ 17. we're no sidehoe material ❌ ║ 18. jealousy wasn't on my bingo card ║ 19. pesky little feelings ║ 20. why do i know so much ║ 21. it should've been me ║ 22. an overthinker AND a dumbass ║ 23. everything is a mess [written: 500] ║ 24. sum chamgo love dive it is [written: 1k] || 25. feels like a funeral in here ║ 26. let's all act surprised || 27. must start breathing into a bag ║ 28. IDK DUDE IM NERVOUS ║ 29. i wasn't jumping I SLIPPED ║ 30. wdym denial ║ [tba]
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twelve fractures // pierre gasly
summary: the four times that y/n leclerc almost called pierre gasly, and the one time that he gave in and called her
tell me, if I were to smile now, in the dead of the dark, would it even exist?
i fantasize about those nights you sewed your lips to mine
there were shortcuts into heaven through your eyes
pairing: pierre gasly x leclerc! reader ( brother's best friend ).
warnings: age gap ( reader is arthur's twin, which makes her 22 and pierre is 27 ), loss of virginity via a one night stand with pierre, hella angst, pierre is a little toxic at a few points in here. consumption of alchohol. descriptions of and allusions to sex. mentions of ferrari struggling in 2022. lots of miscommunication.
authors note: i hope you guys are ready for pain bc i think this one might hurt y'all a bit.
the first call.
she sat at the booth in the corner, her phone case warm against her hand as she stared numbly at the contact in front of her.
pierre 🍐. the contact photo was of the two of them when they were kids. the gaslys had always been family friends of hers, they grew up together.
so falling in love with him should have been inevitable.
y/n leclerc reached for her tumbler again, downing the last of her third glass of the night. she was well and truly drunk, and she was counting down the minutes until she was drunk enough to call pierre gasly and say all the things she wished that she had told him sooner.
tell him that she was sorry for making shit weird after that night in japan.
"what are you doing moping in the corner?"
she looked up from her phone, frowning at her twin brother as arthur leclerc slid into the booth next to her.
"the fuck do you care? you got into formula two, you should be celebrating."
y/n had never been the athletically inclined sibling. arthur and charles were thriving in motorsports. nobody was quite sure what lorenzo was doing but it seemed to be working for him. y/n just had half a draft of a manuscript sitting on her laptop that she was too scared to finish.
because she never finished anything. never saw it through.
"come on, y/n. you know that i can tell when something is wrong. how much have you had to drink?" arthur frowned, pushing the empty glass away as y/n shut off her phone, hoping that her brother wouldn't notice who she was about to call.
"can we leave, arthur? are you sober enough to drive me home?" her voice was quiet, broken as she looked over to where arthur should have been celebrating with the other prema drivers.
this had never been her world. what happened after japan should have just proven that.
a flash of panic shot through arthur's veins. "are you okay?"
"not really." she didn't trust herself not to cry. "just take me home, arthur."
once she was safely inside arthur's ferrari, her first tear began to fall, dragging a thick mascara trail down her porcelain cheek as she rested her head against the window, the grease from her hair staining the window.
"i hoped that if i got drunk enough, i'd finally have the guts to call him." she said quietly, the radio humming softly in the background with the kind of song she would have hated if arthur hadn't liked it so much.
"call who?" arthur asked, stopping at a traffic light and reaching for his sister's hand.
"pierre. things haven't been right between us for a long time."
arthur frowned, but he didn't say anything. he wasn't sure if there was anything for him to say. he never had been the sibling who dealt with emotions the best. that had always been lorenzo's job.
"i gave him everything, arthur. my time, my energy." she paused, covering her mouth as she felt a sob wrack her body, mascara tears dropping onto her fingers. "my virginity." she managed to cough out. "and he's been avoiding me ever since."
arthur paused, stopping the car in the shoulder of the empty monte carlo street, flicking on his hazard lights before he undid his seatbelt and leaned over the console to wrap his baby sister in his arms.
they may have been twins, but arthur was born exactly three minutes and forty-five seconds first, making him the older brother by default, and that was a job that he took very seriously.
he knew the weight of that statement more than he should have. while arthur and charles, and god, even lorenzo, had been sexually adventurous from the moment they turned sixteen, their sister didn't see life like that. she had barely even dated. she hadn't gone on her first date until she was nineteen years old, and there had only been three dates with him before she got scared and broke it off.
arthur knew how big a deal it was that she had felt comfortable enough with someone to give up that part of herself, to feel that vulnerable.
"when did that happen?"
"suzuka." she swallowed, reaching into the glove compartment for a box of tissues. "and it's not that i didn't enjoy it..."
"he didn't know he was your first, did he?" arthur said softly, tracing circles on his sister's shoulder as he held her. "let me guess, you got scared, and you shut down. maybe he was too rough with you for your first time. i was always scared that this would happen, i just never thought it would be with pierre gasly of all people."
"except i wasn't the one who stopped all contact when things got weird. that was all him, arthur. he was gone by morning and things haven't felt right since."
she sat there in arthur's arms, the hazard lights on the cherry red ferrari blinking in the dark night air as she thought about japan. how distraught pierre had been after the race, when he called her and said that he didn't want to be alone. she had shown up with a box of pizza and a case of japanese beer.
she thought about how she had ended up with his lips on hers, her bra thrown over a lamp. her fists clenching the sheets as pierre took her from behind, moaning his name until her throat was dry and her voice was hoarse. how aroused she had been when his large hands spanked her, leaving a red mark on her ass.
how the bed had been cold and empty when she woke up the next morning, pierre gasly's arms no longer around her.
she wasn't quite sure if she had been okay since.
the second call.
she had finally done it. taking the pain she felt after what happened with pierre, she hunkered down with her laptop and she finished her manuscript. every emotion, every shred of anger had been poured out on the pages, the words written in times new roman scribbled across the page.
and now, she was standing in the middle of waterstones, in the middle of london, stacks upon stacks of her book surrounding her.
and with the phone in her hand, her thumb itched to press the 'call' button next to pierre's name. he had been the number one supporter of her novel when she started writing. he had wanted an advance readers copy signed sealed and delivered to his apartment in milan.
she'd been watching the doors all night, hoping that he would walk in.
and she hated herself for being disappointed when he didn't.
his name had made it into the acknowledgments. trying to keep her brothers' careers separate from her own, all her acknowledgments had been done with initials. CL. PG. AL.
"you should be enjoying your party, y/n. is everything okay?" charles asked softly, passing her a glass of champagne. "you're waiting for pierre, aren't you?"
y/n coughed, trying not to let on to her older brother that he was right. "who told you?"
"arthur. you know that he can't keep a secret for shit."
"i didn't want you to know, charles. he's your best friend. i feel like i'm forcing you to choose sides."
charles shook his head, pulling his sister in for a hug, despite her protests. "there aren't any sides to choose, y/n. he's always going to be my best friend, but you're my sister. and the way he's been acting is unreasonable. in fact, if he had the nerve to show up tonight, we'd probably both end up in the drunk tank."
“but he should be here, charles. I probably wouldn’t have ever entertained this fucking fever dream without him.” she said quietly, resting her face on her brothers shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. I want him back, even if he doesn’t want me. why can’t I move on?”
"it's okay, y/n. it's okay." charles soothed, smoothing out his baby sister's hair. "being emotional is a strength, kiddo. one day, you're going to find someone who loves you back the same way that you love them. and if he hurts you, i'll break his knees."
y/n chuckled. "all you would need to do is put him in the car with mattia on the radio."
charles groaned. "don't even start! i'd break my own knees if it meant our strategy team pulled their shit together."
the third call.
the sun was setting over the sand and the palm trees in abu dhabi as y/n and her brother sat in the paddock, drink glasses in hand, sunglasses pulled over eyes. the paddock in abu dhabi had always been one of her favourites.
the last few months had been good to her. her book had made it onto the new york times' bestseller list, and she was trending on booktok. she had gone out with her high school best friend, taking a week in austria to just exist without expectations.
she finally felt like she was in a good headspace. her stomach didn't hurt when she thought about pierre gasly, and she didn't feel like crying when she thought about suzuka.
she was finally okay.
she looked out from the patio of ferrari's hospitality suite, her sunglasses on her forehead and her skin toned pink from the sunset, and that's when she saw him.
pierre gasly was walking through the paddock, his snapback on backwards and the top three buttons on his linen shirt undone. he looked every bit as good as he had when he was leaning over her, the metal of his cross necklace cool against her breasts as he kissed her.
"y/n." lorenzo said softly, poking her in the shoulder. "try not to think about it. you've made so much progress, don't let it all come undone now."
but she was in a much better place. now, instead of sobbing or yelling down the phone, she felt ready to have a proper conversation with the man who took every part of her and shattered it when he waited until she was asleep to slip out of the hotel suite.
she went inside the cherry-red building, ordering a hot chocolate before pulling her phone out of her back pocket and circling back to that same damn contact.
pierre 🍐.
and this time, she called him.
and he didn't answer.
even though it shouldn't, it stung.
she hung up without leaving a message.
the fourth call.
it was christmas eve, snowflakes falling past the windows of pascale leclerc's monaco home. all of her children were gathered in the living room, the lights on the christmas tree dialed up to full intensity as charles filled the small glasses with eggnog. in the living room, lorenzo and arthur were already buzzed, singing 'fairytale of new york' at the top of their lungs, arms over shoulders.
"charles, let me help." y/n insisted with a chuckle, taking two of the glasses from her older brother.
"i've got it, y/n." charles insisted. "go have fun with arthur and lorenzo!"
y/n snorted. "they're drunk, singing christmas carols at the top of their lungs. i think i'll take a hard pass on that one."
charles laughed. "fair enough. okay, you take three glasses and i'll take three, meet you in the living room?"
"sounds fair."
charles took the first few glasses and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving the last three on the island for y/n to take. as she reached for the first glass, her phone, which was sitting facedown on the counter, buzzed twice.
pierre 🍐: merry christmas y/n! sending my love to you and the family.
her heart skipped a beat as she read the message. the first communication with any feeling since that night in japan.
y/n: merry christmas pierre. can we talk?
she should have waited for him to text her back before she called him. the dial tone rang once before she was forwarded to his voicemail, the iphone buzzing again in her palm.
pierre 🍐: i can't talk right now, y/n. i'm with my family.
fucking fine, then.
she shut her phone off, grabbing one of the small glasses of eggnog and downing it in one gulp.
and the time that he called her.
it was saturday night in bahrain when pierre finally called her. he'd screwed up in qualifying with his new team, and he would be setting up at the very back of the grid the following day for the race.
she was already halfway back to her rental car when pierre called her, the keys to her bmw dangling from her fingers.
"we need to talk. there are some things i need to tell you."
"that's an ominous way to start a phone call, gasly."
"now isn't the time for jokes, y/n. i'm serious, we need to talk about suzuka."
"why now, pierre?"
"because i hurt you, and i'm sorry. charles told me what's going on with you."
charles marc herve perceval leclerc, you son of a bitch.
"fine. you can buy me dinner while you're at it."
the air was icy in the restaurant as pierre and y/n sat in the corner booth. neither wanted to be the one to speak first. drinks had been ordered and delivered while y/n worked out what she wanted to say to him.
how hurt she really was.
"y/n." pierre started slowly. "i'm so sorry about japan, and everything that happened after. i was acting like a jerk, and i shouldn't have shut you out like that."
"so why did you, gasly?" y/n said softly, picking at the pasta dish in front of her.
"i didn't leave you in bed that morning. i went to buy us coffee. i swear i left you a note on the bedside table. you were exhausted and," he hesitated. "when we were lying in bed together, you mumbled something as you were falling asleep, i don't even think you knew what you were saying. but you said 'that's one hell of a way to lose your v-card'. knowing that i treated you like that for your very first time, that i was the first person to have touched you like that. . . i don't know, i think a part of me was ashamed."
"i didn't see a note, pierre. there was nothing on the bedside table when i woke up. just think about how i felt for a minute, would you?" y/n scoffed. "i got vulnerable with you, i let you do things to me that no man had ever done before. i let you spank me, for god's sake!"
"keep your voice down!" pierre hissed, overtly conscious about the eyes on him throughout the resteraunt.
there were some things that the general public just didn't want, or need, to hear.
"and you never thought to call? never thought to check in with me later?"
pierre shook his head. "when i got back, the note was under the bed. i wasn't sure if you had read it and cast it aside, or if it had gotten blown off the table by the door or something. i just assumed that you didn't want to talk to me again."
"and then i texted you at christmas."
"and then you texted me at christmas." pierre nodded. "can we start over, y/n? i really like you, and it kills me to know that i fucked up."
y/n reached over the table, taking his hand in hers. "we really are shit at communicating, aren't we?"
pierre laughed. "so i've been told."
y/n laughed, withdrawing her hand. "hi, i'm y/n leclerc, nice to meet you."
pierre smiled. "what are you doing?"
"starting over."
"hi, y/n. i'm pierre. it's lovely to meet you too."
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Friends only
Summary: You are more than friends.
Pairing: Fratboy!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, language, unrequited feelings?, fluff, mentions of a blowjob
A/N: This story is part of my Fratboys collection
“Why don’t you want to give me advice for my date?” Dean puckers his lips. He batts his long eyelashes, trying to convince you to help him once again. “Sweetheart, don’t leave me hanging.”
“We are not friends,” you quip, and turn your attention back toward the books in front of you. “I’ve got no time to give you advice all the time. Ask one of your buddies.”
"We aren't friends?" He splutters. "Why? When did that happen? Since when are we, not friends anymore?"
“Forget it,” you wave Dean off. He doesn’t need to know that he broke your heart not ten minutes ago when he told you about his date with that hot girl he just met. “You have enough girls hanging on your every word. You don’t need me.”
“Y/N, tell me since when we are no friends? Last time I checked we were friends and roommates!” Dean argues. He puts his hands on his hips and stares at you, waiting for you to answer his question.
You slam the book shut and get up from your seat to size Dean up.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes,” he throws his hands up. “What am I talking about the whole time? I want to know since when we are no friends anymore.”
"Since I know how your cum tastes on my tongue," You bite back. "You remember last week, right? When you came to me after a bad date, whining about how the girl only liked your good looks and car. That no one ever listens to you. I built you up again, and then, your cock ended up down my throat.”
“I remember,” he closes his eyes, remembering how your lips felt wrapped around his cock. His cheeks shades of red, and Dean looks down at you, guilt written all over his face. “I shouldn’t have let you suck me off to make me feel better.”
“For fucks sake Dean,” you throw your hands up too. “I sucked you off because I wanted to. I had hoped this means more than a blowjob to you.”
“I—what?” Dean licks his lips. “I don’t understand.”
“Sometimes you are so dull, Dean. That night, I wanted you to make me feel good too.” You shake your head. “But right after I made you cum down my throat, that girl called, and you slipped out of my mouth to take her call. Do you know how I felt?”
“I didn’t know you wanted more of Dean. I would’ve gone down on you, sweetheart. I came back, and wanted to return the favor,” he argues. “You said that you are tired and went straight to bed.”
“Because I felt like a cheap whore, Dean! God. Men can be so stupid and insensitive. If a girl gives you a blowjob, you don’t answer your damn phone after you came. And you for sure don’t talk to some other bitch, Dean.”
“Y/N…” He sighs as you give him an angry look. “I’m sorry. This was a serious case of miscommunication.”
“You don’t get it, Dean!” You sniffle. “Anytime you ask me for advice to get laid, I’m hurting. You don’t even realize how much you hurt me with your behavior.”
“Uh-this is not about sex…right?” He looks at you like a confused puppy. “Right?”
“No, Dean. This is not about sex,” you groan. “I want you to ask me out, not some random chick you just met. But you only ever pay attention to me when you need advice on how to get laid.”
“Oh…OH!” Dean nods slowly. “You want me to cuddle you after a blowjob?”
“Are you serious…” You throw your hands up again. “I give up.”
“Y/N,” he whispers lowly, “I was joking.” Dean steps closer to cup your cheek. “Do you want me to make sweet love to you?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“I want you to make sweet love only to me,” you huff. “That’s what I want. I don’t want to be a one-night stand to you like all the other girls.”
“Sweetheart,” he brushes his lips over yours, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize you like me. Maybe we should talk about what to do now. I’d offer to go down on you, but I think it’s better to ask you out first.”
“Is everything a joke to you?” you sigh deeply. “This isn’t funny to me. I hate having feelings for someone who-”
Dean silences your rant with his lips. He cups the back of your head to keep you from breaking the kiss.
“I like you a lot, sweetheart. Let me prove to you that I can be more than a one-night stand to you too…”
#dean winchester#angst#dean x reader#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#fratboy!dean winchester#college au#Fratboys collection
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kazuha, wanderer, alhaitham — but love is cruel ☆彡
summary — love is not always meant to be happy, it is not just butterflies in your stomach nor daydreams. love can sometimes be filled with heartaches and cruelty.
characters — kazuha, wanderer, alhaitham (w/ gender-neutral reader)
tags — no fluff, angst (sorta), unrequitted love, secret pining but in a painful way, i didn't mention any name haha; bullet-form narration
word count — 1165
a/n — inspired from my spotify playlist and my liked songs on shuffle.
KAEDEHARA KAZUHA
"i'm just tryna understand what i am to you, more than songs we've exchanged. midnight calls, sunset views." — let you break my heart again by laufey, philharmonia orchestra
this is not a "what are we?" situation but a "do you like me?" one.
love—but not necessarily love— with him is filled with misunderstandings, miscommunication, and ambiguity. signals that he has sent you to which you couldn't interpret if it's mixed or not, if it means that way or not.
he has never given you a clear message on what his actions and words mean. it's not like you're dense or anything, it's just that he hasn't given you a clear message behind his actions or anything.
he's friendly and you hate that he's friendly because you think that he's doing this to everyone. he's nice and sweet and you think that that's just the way he is and he's probably doing that because the two of you are close to each other. he's just so kindhearted that you think his gestures to you were just mere acts of kindness.
does he even think of you the same way as you do? does he not see you the same way that you gaze at him when the sun's light reflects on his skin and you find him much more breathtaking than the sunset itself? you just wish he would tell you that he likes you or not because taking rejection is much better than staying up late at night with your thoughts clouded, mind heavy, and eyes tearing up because you could never tell if the poetries, songs, and gazes are just words and stares and not love itself blooming in his heart.
assuming things will only get you to nowhere and might make your situation worse. and no, he hasn't kissed you and you wish he did so you didn't have to suffer this way.
you wish you could tell the way he feels about you with just one look at his actions or one listen to his words. you could just never look past the flower bouquets he has given you, the sunsets you two have watched together, and the poetries he has written and shared and think that he likes you and he's not only doing this because the two of you are friends.
WANDERER
"''cause i swallowed the bubble gum, oh, and these seven years will be pretty dumb." — bubble gum by clairo
he knows he love you, he knows and he doesn't know if you also do but he only keeps them swallowed, he keeps them at the bite of his tongue and at the back of his head. he prefers it this way because it will hurt much more if he tries to say it, knowing your warmth and getting used to it would be much worse than living through years with loneliness and untold feelings.
even when he has already made up reasons just to find you and talk to you, even when he has your laugh embedded in his memory, even when he has already thought of how lovely it is the way your lips curve up into a smile or when it forms into a grin that drains all judgment in his head, even when he already has spent so much time looking at you and admiring you that he already memorized your face and the way you look at his, even when your soul has already been tangled up with his but you'll never know it.
he sees your soul and feels like spilling himself on the floor, drowning himself in parts that make up your whole existence, he has studied every inch of your face, reading everything there is about you even when his eyes get sore.
he tried to stop loving you, he really did. there are moments where he thinks that he can finally look at you in your eyes without his heart aching but when the moment comes wherein he gazes at you, he always looks away first or avert his stare to somewhere else.
he's left dealing with such cruel feelings but he thinks it's much better this way. he thinks that suffering in such way is better than being in agony for lifetimes to come because he has felt the feeling of how it is to shower oneself in your love, affection, and feelings but could never attain nor feel it anymore.
is he terrified? perhaps you could say that, however, he only wishes to protect himself from misery by breaking his heart with his own hands.
ALHAITHAM
"truth is that i'm terrified of how you might react 'cause maybe you'd rather us be friends, we might be better off like that." — i don't know how to tell you this by faith ling
he didn't think that love could make him feel this way and it's not a heart-fluttering, feet-kicking, and giggling way but in a staring at the ceiling, head empty, and heart heavy kind of way.
he doesn't know how to tell you what he feels, not when you probably think that you only think of him as a close friend of yours. words always threaten to leave his mouth, confessions and feelings wanting to be blurted out all at once, but they're always stuck in his throat for a long time before swallowing it where it will remain stuck and jammed like small pieces of broken glasses at the bottom of his lungs.
he just could never tell you it, he just couldn't tell you the fact that he thinks about you every time he lays on his bed and how you always keep him up at night. he can never tell you about how he pictures you wearing white in his dreams and how he wants you tangled in his sheets and you being the first thing he sees when he wakes up. he just couldn't tell you anything.
he wishes he could just move on and get rid of his feelings but how could he even. things are always easier said than done because despite the amount of times he says to himself that he can just focus on another thing and distract himself, his mind always threatens to wander at the thought of you. how could he even move on when you're the one that haunts his dreams and you are what his eyes sees and looks for in a crowd of people.
why does love have to be this painful? if he had known this would happen, he would have wished to not get close to you, he would have stopped himself from getting close to you and basking in the warmth and happiness you give him. he wouldn't mind going back to the way it was before, to the times wherein he only has himself and his curiosity and desire to attain more knowledge rather than seeking out for you in each moment and looking at your eyes and falling in love every time.
— navigation | masterlist
#genshin kazuha#kazuha headcanons#kaedehara kazuha#kazuha x reader#wanderer x reader#genshin impact wanderer#wanderer scaramouche#wanderer headcanons#wanderer genshin#scaramouche headcanons#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche#al haitam x reader#al haitham#alhaitham headcanons#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham genshin#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin headcanons#genshin imagines#azul.writes
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