#also this is scheduled for sunday morning my time when i will be hungover so sorry if you're getting this saturday night where you are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagineaworlds · 3 years

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I Love You (Part Thirty-Nine) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Light smut!! I don’t think anything gets out of hand in this chapter. Talk of BDSM, Dom/sub relationship, etc. I think that’s it? SAVE YOUR SIMPING FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER! The black box is coming. Good lord...

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 11527

Timeline: One month after part thirty-eight.

A/N: Posting this wayyyy early because @ thomassgolfball on TikTok posted a Greg Montgomery edit for me, so I’m in a great mood!

The weekend of our wedding was chaotic, to say the least. On Friday, the boys (including Morgan, Reid, Rossi, and Anderson) stole Aaron away for a bachelor party who knew where. It happened as we were walking to our car after work. We stepped out of the building together, hand in hand, having just finished saying goodbye to the security team in the lobby. We barely stepped off the sidewalk when Rossi approached from behind us, a car pulled up in front of us, the door back door opening, and Rossi rushed to get Hotch into the car. I sighed and yelled at Morgan, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, to not let Aaron get into too much trouble. And then they sped off.

I shook off the smile on my face and continued to our car a few rows back in the parking lot. From a distance, I saw Emily leaning against the hood of the car. Well, the boys had stolen Hotch off for a boy’s weekend, and it seemed that the girls were stealing me off for a bachelorette party. I held my hands up in surrender. Next thing I knew, Emily was wearing a smirk as she handcuffed my left wrist to her right wrist. She didn’t release me until we arrived at a spa retreat out in the middle of nowhere in Virginia. It was Garcia’s idea.

“Tada!” Garcia cheered, her arms stretched into the air, her fingers jazz-dancing. “Do you like it?”

I rubbed my wrist as the handcuff fell off. “I love it.”

“Good, because we’re here until Sunday afternoon,” Emily whispered in my ear.

Because Hotch and I were in such a rush to get married on our anniversary, which was on a Monday, we had to make sure that the BAU got a long weekend, that Jack’s school was aware he wouldn’t be in class, and that everyone else we were inviting (friends and family) knew that they would have to miss some work. The good news was that all of Hotch’s friends were prosecutors and Bureaucrats, so it was fairly easy to get them out of work. When we told the Director that we were getting married, he insisted that we invite him and give him the list of Bureaucrats we were inviting so that he could ensure that they got that Monday off. As for who I was inviting, the list was pretty limited since my friends were all in the FBI, and the one person from my past that I would’ve considered inviting was off the grid. She did that a lot. So, we kept it small. It was going to be lavish, but small. And that was okay. I didn’t need a big, ostentatious wedding. I just needed my future husband, the team, and my parents. But Hotch needed everyone to know that he was marrying me.

When we found out that the team was planning on kidnapping us for separate weekend-long celebrations, Hotch and I started talking in the roundtable room as the team was filing in about how we wanted the night before the wedding all to ourselves. We tried playing it cool by stopping when someone would enter the room; but we knew that they were listening. So, when Emily told me that we were leaving the spa retreat on Sunday afternoon, I was relieved. Hotch and I were going to have Sunday night all to ourselves. Wonderful.

Sunday didn’t matter when we were out at that retreat, though. We spent Friday night in a jacuzzi together, sipping on wine and gossiping. Unfortunately, I had to stop drinking because it was upsetting my stomach, but Garcia seemed to drink for me. JJ and I laughed at her when she downed the glass I couldn’t finish. When we were all pruning, we went inside the cabin the girls all contributed to renting at the retreat for the weekend. We slid into pajamas, grabbed a bunch of blankets, and we laid on the floor in the living room, a fresh log fire beside us. JJ was responsible for bringing the shitty snacks. Since this was supposed to be a “healthy spa”, they didn’t necessarily supply snacks like Cheetos, chips, chocolate, etc. JJ already had most of that laying around at home because of Henry, so she told Emily and Garcia that she would bring the food, and that she did. Since Garcia was drinking for me, and Emily was trying to catch up to her, I stuck to the chocolate.

Time passed by so fast. I didn’t even get tired. We all crashed in the early hours of the morning, but all I could do was smile up at the ceiling while listening to Garcia snore. I was happy. My wedding was approaching, and I was with a handful of the people I loved most on planet Earth. I didn’t need anything else… Except a massage. Thankfully, my wish was granted, because, when I was woken up by Emily, we headed for breakfast at the meal hall, then went to the spa cabin where Garcia had scheduled our massages. Garcia was hungover, of course. Getting her to the meal hall was hard enough, but dragging her out of the spa once our hour long massages were done was a near impossible task.

By the time lunch came around, Garcia was passed out in the bed she had claimed as hers when we first arrived. JJ, Emily, and I gave up on her. We decided to get lunch without her, then, when we were done, we were going to watch a movie in the cabin.

The biggest bed in the cabin was a California King that Emily and I were supposed to share. However, the three of us managed to sit—or, in my case, lay—comfortably on the bed while watching Pride and Prejudice, which was JJ’s idea.

“If Hotch doesn’t say something as romantic as that on Monday,” Emily said after Mr. Darcy had proclaimed his love for Elizabeth for the first time, “then I’m pulling you off the altar, and I’m going to marry you myself.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” I answered, playing along with her tease.

I fell asleep before the movie ended. When I woke up, I saw that Emily and JJ had fallen asleep, too, but they were wrapped in each other’s arms. I eyed them suspiciously for a moment before rolling out of bed to head to the bathroom. I really shouldn’t’ve eaten that much chocolate last night. My stomach was killing me, and I blamed it all on the snacks JJ brought.

“Y/N,” Emily’s voice followed a knock on the door, “are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just under the weather.”

“Nerves?”

“Or chocolate.”

She laughed. “Okay. Well, Garcia’s up, and she’s hungry, so we’re going to head to the meal hall, if you want to join us.”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“We’ll check on you when we come back.”

They technically never got that chance because I fell back asleep soon after they left. It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend, and I was certainly taking them up on the opportunity. Considering Hotch and I were going to have the night before the wedding to ourselves, then our entire honeymoon, and then the rest of our lives… I knew I was going to be restless for a while. Besides, sleep was good. With our busy schedules, we hardly got a weekend to just relax. I liked that I got to spend all of this time with the girls, then sleep as much as I wanted, and I could rinse and repeat that cycle until Sunday afternoon.

And I did. By the time Sunday afternoon came around, I packed up my bag (the one Emily had packed for me without my knowing on Friday when she left for her lunch break), and we headed home. Garcia was not allowed to drive. She and I slept most of the drive home, my house being the first stop.

“Don’t let him leave any hickeys,” Emily warned as I got out of the car.

I chuckled. “No hickeys, must have a speech superior to Mr. Darcy’s, and…”

“And no breaking your heart. Ever.”

“And no breaking my heart. Got it. I’ll let him know.”

“Have fun,” JJ teased with a sing-song voice. “We’ll pick you up tomorrow!”

“Bye, my loves.”

“Bye…” Garcia groaned.

The three of us laughed at her before I waved to them while they slowly traveled down the neighborhood’s street. When they turned out of sight, I headed up to the house, unlocked the door, turned off the alarm, then headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. My stomach had stopped hurting, but now I had a raging headache. I swore then and there that if I was sick on our wedding day, I was going to call every single person invited in order to tell them that the wedding was off before leaving to elope with Hotch.

“You’re back,” Hotch noted happily as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Headache,” I pointed to my temple.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll get you a Motrin.”

“Wait—”

“What?”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards me. “I love you.” I jumped up on my toes and kissed him gingerly. “How was your weekend?”

“I don’t think Morgan understands that strip clubs aren’t my thing.”

“It was more for them than you.”

“I know.”

“You got a lap dance, though, right?” I questioned with a grin.

“No!” he defended.

“Why not?” I pouted at him and played with the hem of his V-neck. “It would have been fun for you.” I ran my hands over his chest. “Wasn’t that the point of your weekend?”

Hotch wrapped his arms around my waist. “The only person I want to ever look at or touch is you.” He kissed me. “So, how ‘bout a lap dance—”

“Headache,” I reminded him.

“You’re a tease.”

“I know. Sir.”

He laughed and kissed my forehead gently to help heal my headache, then he left to get me a Motrin, like he promised. I made my way to the living room. Since Jessica must have been in on the weekend plans, Jack was spending the weekend at her house. We didn’t have to worry about looking after a kid for at least another two weeks because we were leaving for our honeymoon on Tuesday, and because Monday would be our wedding night… Well, Jessica had offered to just look after him until we got back from our vacation. No kid, just us. As much as I loved Jack, I also loved the idea of just getting to spend a lot of one-on-one time with Aaron. If we had met at a different point in our lives, a point where he didn’t have a kid, and might not have ever been married to Haley, then it was possible that Hotch and I would have done everything the classic, boring way. Date for a few years, get engaged, stay engaged for at least a year, then get married, go on vacation, then have a kid. That would have left us with years of alone time. But since we had Jack to look after—not that I minded that one bit— everything was backwards; and with the chaos and tragedy in our lives, we were in a rush to be the classic, boring, nuclear family.

Mom, dad, and kid. That was everyone’s dream, right? The big house, the perfect family, and maybe even a pet to make everyone happy. But we already had the big house and the perfect family. All that was left to do now was make it all official with the wedding certificate and the rings on our fingers. I’d be content at that point.

“Motrin, a heating pad, a blanket, and your favorite pillow,” Hotch said, entering the room with full hands.

I craned my neck to watch him walk around the back of the couch. “You’re amazing.” I took the Motrin from him as he sat down. “Thank you, baby.”

“Of course.”

Hotch shook out the blanket before laying it over my body, then plugged in the heating pad so that I could rest it on the back of my neck. By the time he had me situated, I was already relaxed. When he sat down beside me, he put my favorite pillow on his lap, a silent signal that he wanted me to lay down on him so that he could play with my hair until I could fall asleep.

“I know that this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when we were talking about spending the night together,” I said apologetically. “I’m sorry.” He shushed me. “I haven’t been feeling well all weekend. It’s my own damn fault for eating that chocolate.”

“You’re here. That’s all that matters to me.”

I closed my eyes in response to the comforting feel of his fingers combing through my hair. When we had been talking about spending this night together, I imagined that I’d be tied to the bed with Hotch between my legs, torturing me endlessly. This was nice, though, like he said. It wasn’t imperative for us to have sex in order to be intimate. Yeah, it didn’t suck, but we were going to have plenty of time to tie each other up and fuck each other until we couldn’t breathe. Hell, we had our whole lives to do that. For now, I enjoyed just lying down on his lap, curled under a blanket, falling asleep as he massaged my scalp to ease my headache.

----

Monday morning, I woke up in our bed upstairs, Hotch cuddled up against my back. I smiled and kissed his knuckles. Hotch shuffled behind me as he was coaxed awake by my touch. Telling by the time, JJ, Emily, and Garcia were going to pick me up soon, but I didn’t want to leave our bed just yet. I was excited to get to the venue, but I was also fine where I was. Maybe we could just get married in bed.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered groggily in my ear.

I hummed. “Good morning.”

“Is your headache gone?”

“Yeah. Did you carry me up here?”

“We fell asleep on the couch, and I woke up around seven, so I decided to bring you up here instead of leaving you down there.”

“Thank you.” I rolled over and kissed him, our eyes still shut. “I’m sorry, again, for last night.”

“Don’t be.”

“We could…” my hands drifted down his chest, “do something now…”

He moaned and tensed under my touch. “I thought we have to leave soon to get ready.”

“We’ll make enough time…”

“Not enough time for the black box, though.”

“We’ll just take it with us on the honeymoon.”

He grabbed my chin roughly. “Mmm… so, you want to be ruined for two weeks straight?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Hotch rolled on top of me, kissing me so roughly I couldn’t move or breathe. “Screaming my name and cumming for me over and over again?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re always so needy for me.”

“Only for you, Sir—” I groaned with annoyance when my phone started ringing on my bedside table. “Just ignore it.” I grabbed his face to make him kiss me again. When the call went to voicemail, Hotch rolled his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard he was getting. “Sir…” And then the doorbell rang. “No,” I groaned again.

Hotch leaned back. “I think it’s time to go.”

“Can’t they wait?” I asked, running my index finger over the outline of his erection through his pajama pants. He moaned and fell forward. “Please?” The doorbell rang again, but this time, it didn’t stop. It kept ringing over and over again until it got annoying. “I’m going to fucking kill them.”

“You have to go.”

“I don’t want to yet.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours when you come down the aisle. Aren’t you excited for that?”

I nodded. “But what about you?” I asked, referencing his erection.

“I’ll handle it. You’ll have two weeks to make it up to me.”

I pouted, then kissed him again. “She’s not going to stop ringing the doorbell,” I said, rolling out of bed. Hotch sighed, falling onto his back, his hand snaking under the waistband of his pants to palm himself. I rubbed my thighs together at the sight. “I’m going to kill Emily Prentiss,” I said to myself.

When I opened the front door, Emily was snatching her hand away from the doorbell on the doorframe. She smiled innocently. I told her that I needed to change into something comfortable, then I would meet them in the car.

I was not responsible for my dress, my shoes, my jewelry, or anything of the sort. My mom was responsible for making sure all of that arrived at the venue on time. My job was to show up. That was it. I made it very clear to everyone that those who were showing up to the venue early had a responsibility. If something were to go wrong, it had to make it up a chain of command before getting to me. If something couldn’t be handled by JJ or Penelope, then it made its way to Emily, my maid of honor (since I didn’t have anyone else coming that I was as close to. She was one of my partners in the field, so it only made sense to ask her to do it.) If Emily couldn’t handle it, my mom probably could. If, by some off chance, my mother couldn’t take care of it, then it could become my problem. Other than that, I just wanted to sit in the bridal suite. I wanted to get ready in peace, have fun with my friends for a few hours before the ceremony, and talk with my mom. That was it. If anything or anyone were going to bother me, I was going to be pissed. I didn’t want to be a bridezilla, but it was reasonable for me to request an entire day off, alright.

Hotch was cleaning himself up in the shower while I got dressed in one of his college hoodies and a pair of leggings. Before I could even hear him start washing his hair, I was out the door and in the car with JJ, Garcia, and Emily again. Garcia seemed much better than the last time I saw her. She wasn’t completely out of it, which was a plus, considering I wanted her to be there for the day. Besides, if she showed up still hungover, I think I would be in more trouble than her when Morgan would have found out.

When we arrived at the venue, JJ parked to the side so that the vendors could move about freely within the parking lot; then, when they were done setting up inside, there would just be more space for the guests to park. We had found this amazing, quaint place that was surprisingly cheap. The building itself almost looked like a warehouse—but it was all sandstone brick and glass. It was one floor, but the walls were ridiculously tall, and the glass ceiling inside in some of the rooms made it feel only that much bigger. The set up of the building inside was like a square donut. There was the main lobby when we first walked in, but just behind that was a hallway on either side of the front desk, and just between those two hallways was a glass door that led to the huge open-air courtyard where a vendor was setting up all of the foldable white chairs for the guests during the ceremony.

Garcia pulled me down the left hallway before I could stare at the courtyard for too long. The left side of the building, for our purposes, was reserved as the bride’s suite. Meanwhile, the right side was for the boys. My mom was adamant about Hotch not seeing me at all after leaving our house up until the ceremony. All of the superstitions about a groom seeing the bride in her dress before the actual wedding had tricked my mother into thinking that if Aaron happened to waltz into the wrong room, I’d topple over and die right then and there. So, he was supposed to stay away. The boys had the entire right side of the donut, and the girls had the left side. It was fair enough.

When we stepped into one of the large rooms that had been designated as the suite itself, I saw my mom standing in front of a tall clothing rack where my dress was hanging. She was fussing with it. If there was even one wrinkle, my mother snuffed it out. She was going to do whatever it took to make sure that dress looked good, even if it killed her sanity. But, she stopped for a moment when she heard the door open, and she turned to see that it was us, and she smiled.

“Finally,” she cheered, flinging her arms around me.

I hugged her back. “Hi, Mom.”

“You look pale.”

“I wasn’t feeling well yesterday.”

“What is it?” She released me from our embrace. Her motherly worry was plastered to her face, and she’s trying to figure out what was wrong with me before I could even respond.

I shook my head. “Chocolate and nerves. It’s nothing, Mom.”

“Well, we’ll just cover it all up with makeup, anyhow.” She pointed to the makeup artist and hair stylist that were getting their things set up to the side. “Don’t even worry about it.” She peered over my shoulder to look at the girls. “Champagne and snacks are on the table over there,” she pointed to the left, “hair and makeup will call each of you over one at a time,” she pointed back at the two women who were still getting set up, “and then your dresses are hanging over there,” she pointed to the right where a clothing rack on wheels was holding up the dresses they bought—since Hotch and I weren’t exactly doing the whole bridesmaids and groomsmen thing.

If it were up to my mother, we would have had a much bigger and extravagant celebration with a wedding party and everything, but I argued against it. The compromise was that my mom could pay for ridiculous things like champagne and snacks, while I got to decide that the ceremony would be small, short, and easy. So, my mom offered to pay for the girls’ dresses and the guys’ tuxes, as long as I got to stay adamant about not having matching dresses and having them walk down the aisle before me. My mom was fine with that.

“The bride goes last,” Mom continued. “So, just sit down and relax for a bit, baby.” She gestured to the two large couches over by the champagne and snacks, silently telling us to sit down and stay out of the way until we were called up to do something important.

I threw my hands up in surrender. There was really no point in fighting my mother about all of this, especially on an important day like my wedding. She was a… controlling woman. Elle got that from her. My mother liked knowing that everything was perfect and that she could handle it all herself, and if I got in the way by arguing, I was going to lose that fight. Not that I even wanted to try. Like I said, I wanted to lay back and relax. I was going to keep my feet up until I had to get into my dress and walk down the aisle towards Hotch, and then, I’d crash again.

“Want any?” JJ asked, holding up the bottle of champagne for me to see the offer. I shook my head. She cocked a brow at me, eyes searching all of me for answers. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Garcia asked worriedly.

I shook my head. “Of course not.” I sat down abruptly. “I’m just nervous.”

“What’s there to be nervous about?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted with a laugh.

The four of us reclined, but the three of them kept chatting while I sat by, watching as they drank champagne. There wasn’t a reason to be nervous. I knew that. Of course I knew that. I loved Aaron, he loved me, and we wanted to get married more than anything. This had been our dream for a few years, but it never worked out for one reason or another. But, finally, the timing worked out. Finally, there was nothing standing in our way… and yet, I was still panicking. I didn’t doubt that this was the right thing to do and that we would be happy together. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was that really had me all wound up.

And then my mom whistled lightly from the doorway. Growing up, that was her call to me and Elle whenever we were out in public and she needed us to be by her side and behaving within an instant. I’d recognize that whistle anywhere. It was like saying: “Mom needs you now, and if you don’t come over here, she’s going to be mad.” So, I pushed myself to my feet and headed to the door,

“What is it?” I asked. “Is it Aaron?”

My mom chuckled at my panic. “No. He’s okay. Your dad’s giving him a hard time, but he’s okay, I promise. I need to show you something, though.” She grabbed my hand and snuck me out of the room before anyone could notice because the girls’ attention was on Garcia, who was sliding into her dress now. I followed my mom with a hesitant stride. “Come on, it’s a good surprise, Y/N.”

“I don’t understand—Shouldn’t I be getting into my dress?”

“In a minute. You’ll want to see this first.” She opened the back door of the venue, leading us into the alleyway. I cocked a concerned brow at my mother. “There.” She pointed, and I followed her gaze.

There was a figure standing in the shadows, hiding their face under the hood they were wearing, and their figure was hidden under all of the layers. It didn’t make any sense. Who the hell was that? Why would my mother risk bringing me out here? I tried asking my mom, but she only pushed me forward as an encouragement. I rolled my eyes and walked a few more steps towards the stranger.

And then I stumbled to a halt. Her face was familiar, like I had only seen her just yesterday, but everything else about her was different. Her hair, her style, her posture, even the way she did her makeup. She was half a stranger, half a reminder of home and family. A shuddered breath left my lips.

“Elle…”

When I saw her smile back at me and open her arms for a hug, I ran to her and crashed against her chest. Her arms wrapped around me tightly. I hugged her waist, squeezing her until she tapped on my shoulder for me to release.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t know how to invite you—”

“Mom sent me the invite,” Elle answered. I smiled against her shoulder and squeezed harder. She laughed at how she couldn’t breathe now. “I had to see you.”

“Wait ‘til I tell Aaron and Derek; they’ll be so excited!”

Elle suddenly pushed me out of our hug so that I could see her stern face. “You can’t tell anyone I was here, Y/N.”

“What?”

“Especially Hotch.”

“What are you talking about?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to worry about it.” She grabbed my hands before making me spin around in a small circle for her. “Look at you!”

I wasn’t fooled, however, by her attempt to distract me from what was really going on. All this time, I didn’t know why she left, where she went, what she was doing, and I certainly didn’t think anyone had contact with her, let alone my parents. When I thought about inviting her, I tried calling her old phone number, which had been disconnected. When I tried her email, it didn’t go through. And when I asked my parents if they knew anything, they said that they would handle it. Of course, I didn’t understand what that meant at the time. But now that my sister was standing in front of me for the first time in two and a half years, I thought I would want to be happy and distracted with her, but now I just wanted answers. So, I asked. All of these burning questions that had been churning in my head over the past few years finally spewed out of me. There was nothing I could do to stop or control it. There was just so much, yet so little time.

Elle looked at the ground and kicked a pebble around. “It was just in everyone’s best interest if I left,” she finally said. That wasn’t a real answer. We both knew that it wasn’t enough for me, yet… I didn’t fight. It was the weirdest thing. For once, when it came to Elle, I didn’t pry. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N.” She looked up at me and smiled. It wasn’t faux or forced. It was a genuine smile that she always wore.

I couldn’t believe I almost forgot how much her smile made my day, and how her laugh was like music to my ears, and how much I just fucking missed her. She had been gone so long, she had turned into a distant memory in the back of my mind. Now that she was there, however, everything was returning to me like she hadn’t been gone even a day.

“You’re not going to come in; are you?” I questioned, my smile fading. Hers disappeared, too. “Morgan and Reid miss you a lot. I know they would really love to just see you one more time—”

“Y/N, I can’t. I made promises to people, and I made promises to myself. This part of my life is behind me.”

“So, then, what are you doing with your life?”

“Traveling. A lot.”

I smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling back. “I always wanted to get out and see the world, you know that.”

Actually, no, I didn’t know that. Elle had a very specific idea as to what her life would look like, and I knew what those plans were because it was practically the same dream I had for myself, too. Because of her dad, she wanted to become a cop, so she did. Because of my dad, I wanted to join the FBI, so I did. There was never any mention of getting out to see the world. How could we afford to go traveling all the time when our careers always came first to everything else? She had been doing so well for herself in Seattle, and then she joined the BAU. Things were really working out for her. Yet, the one time she decided to travel outside of the country for vacation, her entire life fell apart. One would think that experience would have stayed her secret urge to travel. However, it didn’t. I couldn’t blame her, though, for wanting to get out and travel the world, if that was really what she wanted, and if she was happy doing it—and it seemed like she was really happy. That was all I ever wanted for her. So, I didn’t argue.

“What have you been doing while traveling?” I asked. The FBI paid well, but not well enough to travel and spend money for the rest of her life without working.

“Oh, you know…” she trailed off. I shook my head because I didn’t know. She was being awfully vague and awkward. Maybe it was just the fact that we hadn’t talked in so long, so there was a disconnect; but we had gone decades without talking while she was working sex crimes in Seattle and I was stuck in Quantico. This was no different than that. So, what gave? “Partying and boys, mostly.”

I squinted at her. “You’re not working at all?”

“I don’t need to. I keep a pretty low profile while I’m out there.”

“Someone’s coming,” Mom hissed from the back door of the venue just down the alley.

When I turned to give her an acknowledging nod, I suddenly felt Elle crash into me for another hug. She wasn’t a big hugger. In fact, Elle struggled most times with any kind of affection. I was pretty sure that it stemmed from the fact that she lost her father, her favorite person, when she was really young, and she didn’t know how to cope with that loss. Our mom wasn’t a very affectionate person either, which was possibly where Elle got it from, but it also made sense that Mom didn’t know how to console and love Elle the same way her dad, which was just another disconnect to the idea of affection for her. But there were moments like these where Elle would find courage within herself to show her love for me. A hug was so small. Jack and Hotch hugged me all the time. Morgan and Emily hugged me all the time. I was a big hugger. Not Elle, though. That was why this had caught me so off guard, and actually made me break into tears.

“I don’t want you to go,” I whispered into her hair.

“I know.”

“Elle,” Mom hissed another warning.

So, Elle released me from her embrace. “I’ll see you around.”

I knew that was a lie. There was no way she was ever going to come back again. I could see it in her eyes and in her behavior. Sometimes, especially in moments like these, I really hated being a profiler. “I’ll see you around.”

Elle smiled lightly at me as she pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, then turned on her heels and calmly made her way out of the alley while keeping her head down.

“What are you two doing out here?” Dad asked, walking into past Mom to see me standing alone in the alleyway. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting into your dress?”

Mom hit his bicep, then started pulling him back inside. “Stop messing with perfection.”

Even though they were divorced, the two of them were still close, and they were comfortable with playing around like that. They almost reminded me of how I was around Morgan. We were serious, but we loved each other, and we knew how to be silly in order to show affection and lighten the cloudy days of our lives. My mom and dad did all of those things, too. It was a wonder they got divorced in the first place. I mean, now that I was older, and there was hindsight and all, I knew that they got divorced because their jobs got in the way; the same reason Hotch and Haley got a divorce. They still loved each other, and they still loved me and Elle, but it was just hard for them to be apart so often. Mom was always off traveling the world for the CIA, meanwhile Dad was stuck at the Academy, teaching a bunch of kids whose dream was to be in the FBI, just like mine had always been. They just got busy. Work got in the way, but they never fell out of love.

Honestly, though, that was the reason I had so much hope for mine and Hotch’s relationship. We worked together. Our time at work and home were spent together. There were only a handful of times when we really missed each other; but we always knew that we would come back together and keep working cases together, or go home to fuck each other until our minds stopped working. We worked because of that. Our job didn’t get in the way of our relationship, which meant that it was just one less thing we had to worry about.

Mom poked her head back out of the venue to ask if I was alright. When I nodded and forced a smile onto my face, she invited me back inside, and led me to the bridal suite so that I could get my hair and make up done before sliding into my dress. “Guests are starting to show up,” she explained frantically while pushing me into the hair and makeup seat. The two women who had just finished getting JJ ready immediately started attacking my hair and face before I could even register what the hell was happening.

“Can you let me know if Sean shows up?” I asked.

My mom stared at me with wide eyes through the mirror. “You invited him? Why didn’t you—” She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Does Aaron know?”

“No.” I didn’t tell anyone on purpose.

When I invited Sean, I had done it secretly after Hotch insisted that he didn’t want his brother to be a part of the ceremony as best man or groom—or whatever the hell we were doing. After Haley’s funeral, when we realized that Sean hadn’t shown up, Hotch promised that he was done with his brother for good. But I just couldn’t let them fall out like this. To be fair, a lot of people didn’t come to Haley’s funeral for one reason or another. I knew that Sean was somewhat of a fuck up, but he didn’t deserve to be punished for showing up to Hotch’s ex-wife’s funeral… Right?

By the time I was done getting “prettied up”, as my mother would put it, and I shimmied into my dress, there was still no news of Sean, or, frankly, Elle. Some part of me held out hope that she would have turned around to come back and see me walk down the aisle. Maybe I was foolish. But I always thought that my sister would be there for my wedding day. Even though she and I didn’t exactly get along sometimes, and there was a fair period of time where we didn’t talk, I imagined that she would be there. I imagined that she would be celebrating this day with me. Perhaps that was why I had invited Sean, too, because Hotch secretly felt the same way about having his brother there. Maybe the two of us were just destined for each other and that was it… We didn’t deserve our families. I mean, Aaron’s family didn’t deserve him; but I knew that he always wished that he had grown up in a better family. It was a miracle that he turned out the way he did. He was so close to becoming Sean; but he didn’t. That was admirable.

“Everyone decent?” Dad asked after knocking on the door suddenly, snapping me out of my train of thought. Mom told him that he could come in. As he stepped inside, his mouth fell agape, a small smile crawling onto his face. “Y/N…”

“You’re not allowed to cry yet, Ken,” Mom scorned.

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her. As she rolled her eyes and giggled at his silliness, she started ushering the girls out of the bridal suite so that they could go find seats at the ceremony and let everyone know that we were about to start. The door closed behind them. “You ready for this?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s not too late to back out now,” he joked.

“Do you want me to?”

He shook his head. “Not in a million years.”

“You like him, right, Dad?”

He stared at me for a moment, his smile fading so that he could pout at my doubt. “I think he’s perfect for you, Y/N. I’ve never seen you so happy. As long as he makes you happy, and as long as he treats you well, I’ll love him like he’s my own.” I smiled at the ground. “And, no, I don’t think it’s weird that he’s older than you.”

“I know you don’t,” I played along.

He stepped forward and tilted my head up with the side of his curled index finger. “Let’s get the boring part over with, shall we?” I nodded. “Alright.” He turned and opened the door, holding out his arm for me so that I could loop my arm with his.

When we stepped into the hallway, the woman who had done my hair handed me my flower bouquet to carry down the aisle, to which I quietly thanked her for. We traveled down the hall a few steps before I stopped. Dad took a step forward like he was already going to lead me down the aisle, but I felt frozen in place. Deep down, I knew that I was ready to marry Aaron Hotchner. I knew that I wanted nothing more than to finally call myself Y/N Hotchner, and to be his entirely. Yet, I couldn’t seem to move my feet. The corner was right there, with the aisle just past it, and Hotch waiting at the end of it. He was waiting for me, and I was absolutely panicking.

I didn’t want us to fail. That was the first time I had admitted it to myself like that. I knew that we were destined for great things and that we loved each other so much, but I was terrified of failing him like Haley failed him. He had been through so much, and I really, really didn’t want to let him down like everyone else had. I knew that he made me happy, and that I made him happy… but what would happen if I ever lost him? I couldn’t bear to think—

“It’s going to be alright,” Dad promised, squeezing my hand.

My breath sputtered as a tear slipped down my cheek. “Were you this scared when you married Mom?”

He smiled and nodded. “I thought that I was going to throw up all over my tux.”

“What helped?”

“Seeing your mom come down the aisle,” he answered quickly, like he had anticipated the question. “I remember that I couldn’t stop shaking and my head wouldn’t stop spinning, but then I saw her, and everything suddenly made sense.” He reached up and wiped the tear from my cheek. “Once you see him, you’ll feel better. I promise.”

“I don’t want to fall over,” I admitted. I was so nervous about taking that first step and tripping over myself. I felt like I could collapse at any second between the panic coursing through my veins and the tightness in my lungs.

“I won’t let you.”

I let my eyes flutter closed before taking in a deep breath, holding it, then slowly releasing it. I did it again, this time a little faster, and my head stopped spinning long enough for me to nod a signal that I was ready. He squeezed my hand again, then took another step, pulling me along carefully. I finally took the first step forward. I felt a sigh of relief leave my chest as I realized that I hadn’t fallen over yet. We took another step, this time with a longer, braver stride, and I felt more confidence wash over me. I was one step closer to seeing him, and that was enough to encourage me to keep going. So, we continued on, one step after the other, slowly gaining speed until we hit the cliché wedding walk pace. We reached the corner, and I closed my eyes again as my breath picked up once more. Hotch was waiting just around the corner. I would see him for the first time on our wedding day, and for the last time as my fiancé. This was real. It was really happening. We were about to do this.

“Just find him and breathe,” my dad whispered.

I nodded again, and he led me around the corner. I opened my eyes as I heard the audience rise to their feet and turn to face me. I looked around the space, spotting the team at the back of the crowd, spread out amongst the bride and groom’s sides. Morgan was standing on my side, just beside the aisle, and he smiled at me. I felt my racing heart slow down a bit when I managed to smile back, but it wasn’t until I looked past the crowd and down the aisle to find Hotch standing with Jack at his side that I finally found tranquility. Every bit of panic left me in one, relieving wave. Every ounce of worry or conflict disappeared without a trace. Just like my dad said, when Hotch’s eyes met mine, I suddenly forgot how scared I was, and I was overwhelmed by happiness and excitement. I felt like I could start running down the aisle now if it meant that I would just be in his arms again.

My eyes pouted, but I smiled at him as brightly as I could. He was smiling back, even though his jaw was practically on the floor in response to seeing me in my dress. And all I could think about was getting to kiss his lips for the first time as his wife. I wished we could skip the whole ceremony altogether and just get to that part. I wished that I could teleport down the aisle and jump into arms, both of us refusing to let go of one another.

We took another step and I watched as Jack looked up at his dad, both of them sharing a smile of excitement between each other. With every row of the crowd we passed, I felt my speed pick up, almost like I was dragging my dad along with me now instead of the other way around. I was in a rush to finally get there, hear that we were married, kiss him, and hold him in my arms forever as husband and wife. There wasn’t a moment to waste.

As we passed the last row, I felt myself nearly trip over my dress as I got a little too excited with my steps. Dad caught me, just like he promised, and I chuckled to myself slightly, looking up at Hotch to see that he was acting like nothing happened. Dad leaned in when we were standing just in front of Hotch, Jack, and the officiant. He kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand one last time before untangling our fingers and unlinking our arms. I felt my nerves return as I realized that there was no one there to hold me upright anymore, no one to catch me if I were to trip again.

I felt my anxiety return, my heart racing in my chest, my blood pumping in my arms, my lungs struggling to take normal breaths, my head beginning to spin. I closed my eyes, trying to find my balance and my ground— and then I felt him. His large hand was over mine on my bouquet, his thick fingers trying to pry my left hand away from the flowers. I let him do as he wished, my eyes fluttering open as he took my hand in his and pulled me towards him carefully.

Hotch’s eyes met mine as he led me to stand closer to him, my right shoulder facing the crowd. We stared at each other with that same light that I noticed every morning when we woke up and he would remember how happy he was to have me there with him. I got lost in his chocolate brown eyes as he lifted his other hand up to my face and brushed some of my hair back behind my ear.

“How obvious was I?” I asked quietly.

Hotch bit back a laugh. “I don’t think anyone noticed.”

“Trick question. If you noticed, everyone noticed,” I snickered. Without warning, he leaned in slowly and pressed a gentle, loving kiss against me. It felt like a ghost had barely kissed me. Just as I felt that he was there, he was gone. “You’re supposed to save that for the end,” I whispered as he pulled away slightly, his breath still hot on my nose.

He kissed me again with the same considerate touch. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Friends and family,” the officiant began loudly, practically tearing me and Hotch apart due to shock. We giggled at each other quietly. “We’ve gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N Greenaway and Aaron Hotchner. As I understand it, the bride and the groom have both prepared something to say before we start with the official vows.”

Hotch nodded, squeezing my hand that he was holding. He released me for a short moment so that he could fish out his speech from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. I giggled at him. He was shaking just as hard as I was, and it was made plain to me when the flimsy paper trembled in his touch. He smiled at my giggle. “The past two years have been… taxing, to say the least. Together, we’ve really been rung through the works, and there were times when I thought we wouldn’t make it to this day for one reason or another. But for the past three years, you have stuck by my side, no matter what, and you’ve given me a reason every day to keep pushing and keep living. I wouldn’t be here today without you. It’s true. Every day, I look at you and Jack, and I remember that I love you both more than anything in the world. I know that I will always fight for you because I love you, and no matter what the world throws at us, that will never change. Your messes are my messes, Y/N. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. I swear that from this day on, I will be by your side, supporting every decision you make, cheering you on while you make a difference in the world, and loving you as vigorously as I can until my dying day. I promise to never hold anything back from you—emotionally, physically, spiritually… and, of course, when it comes to secrets. My whole world belongs to you, Y/N, and I want it to remain that way until my last breath, or until the world stops spinning. I love you.”

I smirked and bit my lip. “I love you, too.”

“Stop biting,” he whispered dominantly.

“I can’t help it.”

“Your turn,” the officiant said to me.

“Right—” I said with a laugh. I surprised Hotch by letting go of his hand so that I could dig into the right-side pocket of my dress to retrieve my speech. “Pockets,” I teased him. He bit his lip. “Don’t bite.”

“I can’t help it,” he whispered through his teeth.

I rolled my eyes at him before glancing down at my paper. I had written it a thousand times before landing on this version that I was… satisfied with. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough words to tell Hotch how much I loved him. At least, there weren’t the right words. I used what the English vocabulary had available, seeking out some of Reid’s help, if I were being honest, but it still wasn’t exactly what I meant. There would never be a speech long enough to list all of the ways I loved Aaron Hotchner. Even if the words to express my love for him existed, my lungs probably would have given out before I could have finished telling him. The good news was, he knew. Hotch knew the truth. This whole show was for the people we loved, like Jack, my parents, and the team. This was for them to see how infinite my love was for him. Hotch didn’t need to hear it. Every kiss I pressed to his lips was my way of telling him in the only way that made sense. Telling him: “I love you” were the only words that came anywhere close to what I meant. Scratching his back as he thrusted into me was a way of telling him that he was mine, and that I loved him, and I would never stop loving him. He knew all of that. So, even though words failed me during that speech, I knew that the one person there who knew the truth about my love for Aaron Hotchner was the only one who mattered.

“I made a promise to you once that I would love you unconditionally and I would always fight for you. It took you a long time to believe me when I said that your messes are my messes, but they are, and they always will be. No matter what, I will never stop loving you for that very reason. I do love you, Aaron. I love you and I love Jack more than anything in the whole, wide world. You welcomed me into your life, into your home, and into your family. You let me love your son like he’s my own, and I know that I will spend the rest of my life thanking you for that opportunity. And I want to spend my life thanking you. I want to spend every second by your side, running around the country while we do what we love, coming home to our son to hold him in our arms, and repeating that process. I love my life with you. I love you. No one can ever take that away from us. Ever.”

He gave me a look that asked if he could kiss me. I had to shake my head because we still had to get through the rest of the ceremony, and I wanted the very next kiss to be the first one that would start off the rest of our lives together. I wanted it to be the kiss. I didn’t want to ever forget the next kiss. So, I glanced away from him, just to deter his urge.

The officiant looked to Hotch, “Please repeat after me. ‘I, Aaron Hotchner.’”

Hotch reached up to my face and brushed some of my hair back behind my ear. “I, Aaron Hotchner.” He continued to repeat every line, each one gaining in speed as his excitement took over. “Take you, Y/N Greenaway… To have and to hold… For better or for worse… In sickness and in health… To love, to cherish, to appreciate for as long as we both shall live.”

I had memorized the words before the officiant even turned to me. I knew that I had to be patient, and to repeat the same words at the same pace that Hotch had just done, but I wanted nothing more than to just race through it, say “I do” then kiss my husband for the first time. But patience was key. So, when the officiant started, I followed.

“I, Y/N Greenaway, take you, Aaron Hotchner, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. To love, to cherish, to appreciate for as long as we both shall live.”

It felt like a million pounds had been lifted off my chest by the time we got through it all. The long part was done, and now came the best part. The words “husband and wife” barely left the officiant’s lips before Hotch and I were jumping each other. He grabbed my hips roughly, pulling me against him as eagerly as possible, and he tilted his head down. I swung my arms around his neck, letting him lift me off the ground somewhat, and I pressed my lips to his for the first time as his wife. I smiled against him. Hotch giggled as the officiant finally said the cliché: “You may kiss the bride” a few seconds too late.

“Don’t let go yet,” Hotch begged before kissing me again.

I pulled away for air. “I’ll never let go.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I leaned into him. “I love you—” We kissed.

----

At the reception, I felt my head spinning. It was like an out of body experience. I was standing there beside Hotch, his arm wrapped around my waist, his hand on my hip; and we were talking to everyone who had come to the wedding and wanted to give us their personal congratulations. But I just couldn’t hear them. I was staring at Hotch, admiring how perfect he was. He was finally mine. I couldn’t believe that only a few hours ago, we were standing on the altar, sliding our wedding bands onto each other’s ring fingers. And now we were standing there… And I was just trying not to tip over. Even if I did waver, Hotch would have caught me. I trusted him with my life, and I understood that he could catch me if I ever fell—just like he had caught me when I tripped somewhat on my way down the aisle. He had me. I was all his, and he was all mine. We would always be there to protect each other.

“Oh, look, it’s my favorite taken agent,” someone cheered before tickling my sides. I laughed and gently sent my elbow back into his stomach. He playfully groaned after releasing me so that he could guard his stomach. “Man down! Man down!”

I turned and hit his arm. “Derek Morgan, you are acting like a child.”

“Only for you, sweetness.” He reached out to wing his arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a tight hug that we both strained our strength for. “I’m so happy for you.”

Before I could respond, I felt someone tap my shoulder for their attention, and then they were quickly prying me off of Morgan. I giggled again as she pulled me into a hug that was even tighter than the last one I had just been trapped in. Emily laughed. “I told you they’d all see the truth,” she said giddily in my ear.

“Is he a Mr. Darcy contender or what?” I whispered back. We both laughed as we parted. I stared at her for a moment, admiring her smile. “I love you, Em. I don’t say it enough. But I do.”

She smiled and punched my arm lightly. “What’s got you being all sappy?”

“Mr. Darcy.”

“Ah. Yeah, I can see how that could happen.” She searched my face. “You look better than yesterday.”

“I feel better. It was just nerves.”

“Are we all congratulating the bride?” I heard a familiar voice ask behind me.

I smiled and turned. “Cody!”

I hugged him—but this wasn’t like with Morgan or Emily. No. Cody was the Director of the FBI, and therefore he was still my boss. Yes, Hotch and I were good friends with him, but there still had to be some level or respect and professionalism with him around while still outside of work. So, our hug was brief and polite. It didn’t mean much. But the looks on Morgan and Emily’s faces were priceless, honestly.

“They’re playing a slow dance for us,” Hotch told me. He grabbed my hand and started pulling me to the dance floor before I could finish talking with the Director and Emily, or even really get a chance to wave goodbye to them.

I giggled at how fast everything was happening. One second I was on the altar with him, then I was talking to Morgan and Emily, then the Director butted in, and now I was dancing with Aaron—my husband. The world was wild sometimes.

“You shouldn’t interrupt me next time.” I brushed his hair back out of his face then scratched my fingers down his five o’clock shadow.

He smirked and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “But you’re all mine now, and I don’t want you to forget it.”

“I’m all yours,” I whispered back, cupping my palm over his cheek. “Always.”

He pulled me close for a kiss until our chests were touching and he was almost towering over me, his hands on the small of my back the only thing keeping me from falling to the ground. I let my arms curl around the back of his neck. We giggled against each other’s lips as we ran out of breath, but he was adamant on still kissing me and proving his dominance to me as if no one were watching. Well, as if all of our friends and family at our wedding weren’t watching. That only made me laugh harder.

He nibbled on my jaw. “I love you, Y/N.”

I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling at the strands lightly until he removed his lips from my skin in order to let me get a proper look at him. His eyes were dialed, a sign of love and lust. He was so predictable. But he had enough self-restraint to recognize that he couldn’t jump me then and there while everyone was watching as we swayed, laughed, and kissed. My mom was smiling and crying, thinking that we were the cutest, most innocent thing she had ever seen. If only she knew. My dad, on the other hand—as well as Rossi and Morgan—had a look that said: If you hurt Y/N, we’ll kill you ourselves. He would never hurt me, though. I knew that better than anyone else. Aaron Hotchner cherished me more than I could ever cherish him; and that sometimes frustrated me, but it ultimately made me feel infinitely and unconditionally loved.

Hotch rotated us as we continued to sway. I could now see the other side of the room where Emily, Reid, Garcia, JJ were all standing, pointing and gawking at us. I rolled my eyes at them. They were so embarrassing sometimes. But I loved them. Endlessly. There was nothing they could ever do or say that would make me love them any less. It just wasn’t possible. They were my family, and I was theirs, and that meant the whole world to me, considering the way my family fell apart. My parents split up for dumb reasons, and my sister was off the grid, becoming a free-spirit or some shit like that. Now, however, I had Jack and Hotch, my real family. It was a nice consolation that I had the BAU in my corner, there to protect me and save me if need be, there to love me or scold me if I fucked up on a case. Even JJ, the one who doubted mine and Hotch’s relationship since the beginning, was a part of that family, and I still valued her opinion and her love. Like I said, I would always love them. If we fought, so be it. But, in the end, we were always going to be siblings, in a way.

“Do you ever wonder what the team would look like if Elle and Gideon were still there?” I asked Hotch quietly.

He cocked a brow at me. We had gone from practically sticking our tongues down each other’s throats to talking about random, old memories. I understood why it caught him off guard. I understood that it probably wasn’t the best time to ask; but it had been weighing on my mind as we swayed to the slow music.

“Sometimes,” Hotch agreed. “But I’m extremely grateful that we found Emily, and that Rossi came back.”

I nodded and rested my cheek against his chest. “I miss them.”

“I know.”

“Even though Gideon was a total asshole.”

Hotch chuckled. “Yeah. Even then.”

As the song came to a slow, steady end, Hotch and I parted from our embrace to kiss again, this time with a little less lust and a little more passion. And then Bohemian Rhapsody started playing. I laughed and pressed my forehead against his.

“I should probably let you get back to chatting with everyone,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “Just dance with me for a little longer.”

Hotch grinned, grabbing my hand, then stepped back from me before pulling me in and spinning me around until my back hit his chest. I was wrapped in a hug now. I rested my head against him, letting us sway and bounce to the music at a faster pace than we had been going with the last song; and since the slow dance was over, everyone else had wandered back onto the floor, too. So, Rossi wandered over. Jazz hands out, feet shuffling, his iconic Italian smirk on his face, he came to congratulate us.

“Bella!” he cheered, reaching to grab my face between his palms. “You two certainly know how to put on a show.” He kissed each of my cheeks roughly. “You, on the other hand,” he said, turning to Aaron, “need a few dancing lessons. I’m available on Thursday evenings." He patted Hotch’s shoulders.

“I know how to dance,” Hotch argued playfully.

“Clearly not.”

We all giggled. That was when I spotted a familiar face from across the room, which caught me off guard. He was sitting at the bar we had, ordering yet another drink from the bartender who hadn’t cut him off yet. I shook my head. Of course, he was late. And of course, he had to be getting drunk the first chance he got. I didn’t want to hold any biases against him, but he was making it really hard to keep defending him when he continued to pull shit like this and refuse to recognize that it was a problem. I just wished that he would let us help him.

I looked at Hotch and excused myself for a moment. He nodded an acknowledgement before turning back to his conversation and I left to walk across the room. “Taking advantage of the open bar?” I asked as I approached Sean.

He turned with a full glass in his hand. When he saw that it was me, he rolled his eyes slightly. “That’s what it’s here for, isn’t it?”

“Aaron’ll cut you off eventually.”

“I’ll be gone before then.”

“Will you even try to talk to him?”

“He doesn’t want me here. Why would I?” Sean sighed while setting his glass down. “Sorry. I know that it’s your day, and I have no right to stir up family drama.” He smiled. “I’m happy for you guys.” He started to walk away, but I caught his bicep.

I searched his eyes. “He really does love you, Sean. He’s just been hurt too many times.”

“Yeah, well… Him and everyone else in the world.” He pulled his arm away from me before striding off.

I sighed in defeat while shifting my weight on the balls of my feet. I just wanted them to make up. Ever since Haley’s death last year, Hotch had gone out of his way to make sure that none of us were affiliated with Sean. When he didn’t show up to the funeral, that was Hotch’s breaking point. He needed his brother there, yet Sean was too busy doing who knew what. Like, what could have been more important than that funeral? I didn’t understand. However, I still wanted Sean around because I knew that Hotch and Jack both needed him in their lives. Hotch, on the other hand, wasn’t having it. This was why. I should have known better. I should have known that Sean would still disappoint, no matter what. At least he showed up at all.

“Thank you,” someone whispered in my ear as they snaked their arms around my waist. I rested my head back against their shoulder. “You tried… That’s all you can do.”

I shook my head. “I thought he would just try to talk to you.”

Hotch ran his hands over the fabric of my dress, my stomach tensing up because it tickled a bit. “It’s okay.” He kissed my neck. “Hey.” He was trying to catch my attention, so I hummed a tone that asked him what was on his mind. “You wanna get out of here?”

“It’s our own wedding.”

“They won’t miss us anymore. All the important stuff is over.”

“It’ll be embarrassingly obvious.”

He hummed and smiled against my ear. “How about this…” He grabbed my hips roughly. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I gulped at the dominating, stern tone that practically vibrated throughout my entire body, sending a chill up my spine in response. Well, that was a preview as to what the next two weeks were going to be like for me. It made me smile. “Yes, Sir.”

Hotch nibbled at my earlobe light before whispering, “I love you.”

I turned my head so that I was looking at him while still resting against his shoulder. I kissed him. “I love you, too.”

--------

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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hotpinkhoshi · 5 years

Text

the pact (2)

pairing: jinyoung x reader

genre: romance, smut, a lil angst

warnings: sexual content, cursing, alcohol, cliche fwb to lovers, fuckboy!jb

word count: 7.4k

summary: you desperately need to get over your decade-long crush on lim jaebeom, and your close friend jinyoung needs to get over his ex—so the two of you make an arrangement: just sex, no feelings. what could go wrong?

a/n: first of all, thank you all so so so much for the love for the first part! i was so nervous posting and it completely blew my mind to get such a good response. this part is a bit longer and the smut is a bit more ... smutty lolol so just be aware of that. again please let me know your thoughts/feels it absolutely makes my day :) enjoy!

(part one here)

The rest of the weekend went quickly, considering you ended up sleeping until nearly twelve o’clock Saturday afternoon.

You honestly thought the night before had been a dream, until you’d tripped on the box of condoms laying on the floor on your way to the bathroom to pee. Vaguely, you remembered Jinyoung tossing them there just before…

Groaning, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Surely, you’d made a mistake. A big one—risking one of your longest friendships just for one night of blissful ignorance. This was not something you would normally do.

While you weren’t nearly as calculated and cautious as Jinyoung, you usually knew better than to make hasty decisions, especially ones that could cost you your relationship with your loved ones.

Filled with guilt and regret low in your stomach, you trudged back into your bedroom to check your phone. There were more than a few drunken snaps from the boys that had gone out last night, including one of Jackson drinking some concoction from a wine glass that made you shudder.

No texts, though. Honestly, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. You’d half expected Jinyoung to text you as soon as he got home, telling you he’d made a terrible mistake and that he’d rather not talk to you ever again.

However, it felt strange that he hadn’t messaged you at all, for a reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on. This had been what you’d wanted, right? Just two friends helping each other out, no extra strings involved. And Jinyoung had never been the type to text more than necessary.

This thought relieved some of your worries, enough that you could put your phone down and venture out to get some food in your stomach. You weren’t hungover, necessarily, but you felt the effects of staying up too late and to be frank, you were sore.

If Sana had any idea what had gone on last night after she retired to bed, she kept it hidden well. She was sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone and eating lunch.

“Good morning,” you muttered, praying the tee you’d chosen had a high enough neck to keep your marks from Jinyoung hidden. The last thing you needed was for Sana to see a hickey that you most definitely did not have the last time she’d seen you.

“Do you mean good afternoon? What time did you get to bed last night, anyway?” Sana asked, spoon of soup halfway to her lips.

You turned to the cupboard and pretended to mull over which mug you wanted to use for coffee. “Um, maybe... two? Not more than an hour after you went to bed...”

“Hm,” she replied, and you held your breath waiting to see if she would say anything else to indicate she knew something had happened. “Oh my god, look at this video of a corgi my cousin tagged me in.”

Your entire body relaxed as you turned back to your roommate to watch the video on her phone. Maybe you had gotten away with it after all.

~~~

The rest of the weekend, you found yourself back at work even though you weren’t scheduled to be there. There was always work to do, and it kept your mind busy to focus on something besides your reckless decisions.

By Sunday evening, you’d outlined an entire business plan to get your sales back up before the summer hit, reorganized the entire cookbook section, and laid out next month’s employee schedule.

Yugyeom made your life a little easier by staying until close, placing sale stickers on old paperbacks that you’d been trying to sell for months. He’d talked your ear off about Friday night, filling in all the details that you never asked for.

“I’m not kidding, noona, this guy was two seconds from sucker punching Jackson just because he accidentally made out with his fiance. But she wasn’t wearing an engagement ring! I checked!”

This was part of the reason you never went out with the guys when they hit the clubs. It was always fun until inevitably one of them caused utter chaos that you found yourself involved in every time, if only to try and diffuse the situation.

You were becoming too old for the nightlife scene, you figured.

“That’s crazy.”

“I know!” Yugyeom placed his next sticker harshly, almost knocking over the entire pile. “But apparently, there is a God, because at that moment, a bachelor party came through the crowd and we lost them.”

You were about to mutter another ‘wow’ or ‘that’s crazy’ when the front door jingled. Just as you were about to tell the customer you closed in a few minutes, your words died in your throat. It wasn’t just any customer, it was Jinyoung.

For a moment, you forgot that you’d just seen him naked two days ago. He was just Jinyoung, your oldest friend.

“Jinyoung!” you exclaimed, setting down your clipboard.

He offered you a smile, running his fingers through his hair before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hey. Sorry, I know you guys close soon. I just wanted to see if you’d gotten a particular book in.”

Nodding, you came out from behind the counter once he told you the title, leading him to the row of shelves where you kept the new releases. You shouted back for Yugyeom to lock the front door and clock out a while, since this wasn’t the first time you’d let Jinyoung in the store past closing time.

“Ah, right here,” you said, pulling the book from the shelf and placing it in Jinyoung’s hands.

It wasn’t until you made eye contact with him, his shoulder close enough to brush against yours, that you had a flashback to the other night. His head between your thighs, your fingers laced into his hair.

You looked down abruptly, tucking your hands into the pockets of your cardigan. “Anything else I can help you find?”

Jinyoung didn’t answer at first, just rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you. About Friday.” He lowered his voice, leaning close enough you could smell his cologne.

You swallowed. “Okay.”

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, taking you by surprise.

“For what?”

Jinyoung sighed, chewing his lip with his teeth for a moment. “I was worried that I took advantage of you. You were drinking, you were upset, and maybe you didn’t exactly have a clear head.”

Somehow, his response was a relief. You’d been expecting him to have regrets for completely different reasons than just his conscience.

“I wasn’t drunk,” you told him, shaking your head. “I was basically sober. And yeah, I was upset, but... I don’t regret it. I think I needed it.”

Jinyoung looked relieved as well. His shoulders visibly relaxed and he raised his brows. “Me too, actually. It’s hard to explain, but--”

“I get it,” you said, because you were sure you did, without him saying the words. “It reminded you Yeri isn’t the only girl in the world that could want you?”

Jinyoung nodded. “Same for you?”

“Yeah. Except I know Jaebeom doesn’t want me, not the way I want him to. I just needed to see that someone else could. Plus, it was a nice distraction, right?” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “A really nice distraction.”

Again, you were reminded of the way it felt to have his skin against yours and the weight of his body on you. The way his teeth grazed your neck. It was hard to forget, considering you’d had to layer up concealer over the purple marks that just barely peeked over the collar of your shirt.

There was an air of awkwardness between the two of you, but that was to be expected, you figured. It didn’t make you regret that night or want to do it again any less.

“Well, what are friends for, right?” you joked, and Jinyoung let out a lighthearted laugh. Your stomach flipped ever so slightly that you could make him laugh like that, for some reason. You’d never cared before.

“Right,” he agreed. “Also, finding incredible books.” He held up the one in his hand, which served as a reminder that Yugyeom was still in the store somewhere, and he had a way of popping up places you didn’t expect him to be.

“Here, let me get you checked out and you can head home.”

You led Jinyoung back to the register, already feeling so much better about the whole situation. You hadn’t lost him forever, which was truly what you’d been worried about.

But you realized that was a silly notion. You’d both wanted it, and frankly, you’d both needed it.

After ringing up Jinyoung’s book, you walked him out of the store to bid him goodbye, letting him know to text you to let you know how the book was. Just like you normally would.

~~~

It wasn’t until Wednesday night that you found yourself contemplating texting Jinyoung. To be specific, texting Jinyoung for sex. It still sounded absolutely ridiculous in your head, but it was the truth.

You’d spoken a few times, no more than usual, mostly about his new read and other random things that came up. It appeared that your friendship would continue as normal.

Then Jaebeom had texted you. In the middle of the week, during your lunchtime, a simple ‘hey :)’ that had you gawking at your phone and almost choking on your chicken salad.

Since you weren’t an idiot and you were committed to truly moving on from your infatuation, you ignored it. But you couldn’t help thinking about it for the rest of the day, even after you arrived home.

You needed a distraction, and you needed it bad.

you: hey you: are you home from work?

Jinyoung: Yeah, why?

you: ...can I come over?

Jinyoung: Of course.

Even though he texted like a robot, you knew he would have said no if he really didn’t want you coming over. You prayed he understood the implications of your visit, that you weren’t just coming over to discuss the weather.

Jinyoung lived close enough that you were at his apartment within half an hour, a modest but definite upgrade from your tiny two bedroom.

Somehow, you pushed your nerves down by the time Jinyoung answered the door, dressed in a simple black long sleeved tee and his work khakis. You now appreciated him in this outfit in a way you wouldn’t have a week ago.

“Hey,” he said, inviting you inside. “I was just finishing up a quick dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Mm,” you replied, inhaling the scent of frying veggies and garlic. “Actually, yeah. What did you make?”

“Just some stir fry and ramen, nothing special,” he told you, leading you into the kitchen with a hand at the small of your back. It sent tingles up your spine, and something told you it was intentional on his part.

Once he sat you down at the kitchen island on one of the stools there, you watched as he made the finishing touches to the pan he had warming on the stove.

You hadn’t been to his place in a while, but it looked like nothing had changed. It was clean, even the kitchen, despite the fact that he’d been making dinner. When you made dinner, it looked like a tornado hit the kitchen.

There weren’t many personal touches in his space, but enough for you to recognize it as Jinyoung’s. A photo of himself and his parents on the fridge, an old record player set up in the corner, and bookshelf stuffed full with novels in the living room. The open floor plan made his apartment appear much bigger than it was, in reality, but you preferred it over your cluttered space.

“Here, try this,” Jinyoung said, holding a wooden spoon in front of your lips. You obeyed, letting him feed you the broth.

It was delicious. You’d never eaten anything he’d prepared as far as you could remember, but you were thoroughly impressed so far.

“Mm, I had no idea you were such a great cook.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and walking back over to finish up the food. “I’m not. I just know how to follow a recipe, that’s all.”

“Yeah, so do I, but somehow it always ends up terrible.”

“That’s because you’re actually awful at following a recipe,” he said as he turned back to you, a bowl of ramen in one hand and a plate of stir fry in the other.

You gasped, offended. “I am not!”

Jinyoung raised a brow. “Remember that cooking class we had to take in high school? You messed up banana bread. There are like, four ingredients in banana bread.”

“Well, the recipe was wrong.” You pressed your lips together defiantly. “It didn’t taste that bad, anyway.”

Jinyoung set your meal down in front of you, then leaned his elbows on the counter and stared at you. “Are you sure about that?”

You pouted. You vaguely remembered your teacher immediately coughing and grabbing for a napkin to spit your banana bread out into. Jinyoung, at the time, hadn’t even laughed at you even while everyone else did. He just came over to your station while everyone else was cleaning up, going over the recipe with you to find where you’d gone wrong.

“Well, I’ve gotten better since then. Maybe.”

Jinyoung chuckled, turning away from you once more to grab his own plates. “I believe you, though you might have to prove it to me sometime.”

“I will,” you told him firmly. “But it definitely won’t smell or taste as good as this.”

And it did taste good, once you took your first bite. Better than good. It’d been a long time since you’d had a warm, home cooked meal. You’d been lazy these days, heating up instant meals or ordering takeout. This was a welcome change.

While the two of you ate, you mostly talked about your days at work. Nothing in particular, but the conversation flowed the way it did between two friends that had known each other as long as you’d known Jinyoung. Even the silence while you ate was comfortable.

After you both finished with your meal, you stood and insisted on gathering up the dishes. If you couldn’t cook him a decent meal to return the favor, you’d at least help clean up.

You stacked the plates, dumping the bits of food left over into the trash and rinsing off the plates. When you turned back around from the dishwasher, you found Jinyoung much closer to you than he had been a minute ago.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he told you, crowding you against the sink. He placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, boxing you in. “But thank you.”

You shivered, looking up at him and nodding meekly. “You’re welcome.” Your voice came out much quieter than intended.

“Now,” he said, moving even closer until you felt his hips pressing into yours. “How about dessert?”

It would have sounded cheesy coming from anyone else, but from him, it sent a wave of heat through your body. After all, this was what you came for.

When Jinyoung finally leaned in to press his lips into yours, you relaxed, sliding your hands up his torso until they rested on his chest. Though neither of you had any alcohol in your system, you felt more at ease than you had the other night.

You knew he wanted you, and you both knew your intentions. There was no reason to worry. As a bonus, you could freely move about his apartment without trying to be quiet.

Jinyoung kissed you as if he’d been thinking of this all day, like he’d been waiting to feel your lips against his and your tongue dipping into the wetness of his mouth. It’d been so long since anyone kissed you the way Jinyoung did.

Though you’d been intoxicated beyond coherence, you had committed your one kiss with Jaebeom to memory at this point. He’d kissed you lazily—like he knew you weren’t going anywhere, like it could have been anyone and it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Jinyoung was receptive when he kissed, as if gauging your reactions to each of his movements and using the knowledge to make your knees weak. Each lick, kiss, and bite was perfectly calculated to prepare you for the pleasure he would bring you later.

For a while, you simply just kissed. His hands traveled from the counter to your hips, sliding them upwards until they were on your skin underneath of your simple white shirt. This could have been enough for you, honestly. The way he melted his lips into yours was warming your entire body, just aching to be closer to him in whatever way you could.

When you pulled away, it was only to drag Jinyoung’s sweater up off of his torso and drop it to the floor. It still surprised you to see how fit he was, even more so in much better lighting this time—despite having just eaten a full meal. How had he been hiding this from you for so long?

You wanted to give his physique the proper attention it deserved, so you ran your fingertips down his solid chest, until they grazed over the ridges of his abs. You licked your lips, imagining what it would be like to run your tongue over the skin there.

He had just the lightest happy trail leading you right to the button on his khakis. Your eyes traveled back up his body until you locked eyes with him, where you found him staring at you hungrily.

“Jinyoung… can I…?” You started, popping open the button with your index finger.

His eyes widened ever so slightly once he realized what you meant. “Yes. God, yes.”

So you dropped to your knees right on the kitchen floor, tipping your chin up to maintain eye contact. “I kept thinking about this, you know.” You willed yourself not to blush and betray your nerves.

“Yeah?” he asked, running his teeth over his bottom lip. “What else have you thought about?”

You slid the zipper of his khakis down, revealing the plain black boxer briefs underneath. The fabric strained, fighting a losing battle with the bulge it was trying to contain. “The way you fit inside me—god, it felt perfect, Jinyoung.”

You teased the waistband with your fingers, your eyes traveling up his body once more until you could look up at him, blinking innocently. “I kept wondering how you’d taste. If you’d feel just as perfect like this.”

For the most part, Jinyoung kept his composure, but you knew him well enough to see beyond the steeled expression on his face. How his jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the countertop in front of him. The barely detectable hitch in his breath.

“Go ahead and find out.”

You sat back on your heels, your hand dipping inside his waistband to grip his erection. You were grateful for the lighting of the kitchen, allowing you to see up close just how flawless he was, from head to toe.

Jinyoung inhaled sharply as you freed his cock from inside of his khakis, your fingers wrapping around the middle of his shaft. You realized just how much you’d missed out on the other night.

Your eyes stayed on him as you leaned forward, sticking your tongue out flat as you ran it up the underside of the shaft. Though he didn’t make a noise, you caught the way his eyelashes fluttered and his gaze darkened.

You placed a wet kiss at the tip of his cock before you began to take him into your mouth. Slowly. You wanted him to feel every inch of your mouth as it surrounded him, desperate to break his steady demeanor.

One of his hands released its grip from the countertop, coming to the side of your face to brush your hair away, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So,” he said, “how does it feel, angel? Good?”

You batted your eyelashes up at him, your mouth still wrapped around his shaft. You weren’t quite ready to pull away, so you just nodded your head, careful not to let any bit of his cock slip out.

The way Jinyoung smirked back down at you sent warmth straight between your thighs, causing you to squeeze your knees together from where you sat on the cold kitchen floor.

Giving head had never been your favorite. You didn’t hate it, but something about it made you feel awkward and sometimes uncomfortable. It caused you a pinch of anxiety, worrying that you’d do something wrong or embarrassing like choke or accidentally bite down.

However, you were loving this. You really had fantasized about it all week, though you weren’t sure why, considering you never had before. Something about having this power over Jinyoung, even as he stared down at you with such a domineering gaze, turned you on beyond words. You were hungry for it for the first time.

Jinyoung slipped his fingers through your hair, gripping onto the strands to gently guide your mouth off of him, then pushed with the lightest pressure so you’d take him in again. You let your eyes fall closed, your hands traveling up his thighs to give yourself something to hold onto.

You let him set the pace with his hand at the back of your head. He was gentle with you, but you knew he was holding back. He’d looked the same the other night. His brow twitched, and his lips pressed firmly together.

“You’re doing so well,” he told you, his other hand coming to join the other at the back of your head, stroking your hair softly.

Encouraged by his praise, you attempted to take just one extra inch inside your mouth on your next downstroke. You squeezed your eyes shut as the head hit the back of your throat, making you cough around his cock but you didn’t give up.

“Oh, fuck,” Jinyoung whispered, just as he slipped past the resistance of your gag reflex and you dug your nails into the fabric of his pants.

When you opened your eyes to look up at him, you were pleased to see you had definitely had an effect on him. His head was thrown back, his face screwed up in pleasure.

You continued. Working hard to train your throat to take more and more of him inside, even though your jaw ached and your throat was becoming sore. It was worth it for the quiet moans and groans you were pulling out of Jinyoung.

“Oh, oh shit—“ Jinyoung said suddenly after a few more minutes, his hands tugging harshly on your hair to pull your mouth off of him. You winced at the sudden sharp pain at your scalp. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I just. You need to stop.”

You’d gotten lost in the act, only focused on one thing, you hadn’t realized just how hard he’d become. As curious as you were to see what it would feel like, what he’d look like coming into your mouth, you needed him inside of you.

Standing from the kitchen floor, you wiped at your mouth and chin with your sleeve. You didn’t realize how messy you’d gotten.

Jinyoung didn’t waste much time. Your shirt was off in seconds, joining his sweater somewhere on the floor. His eyes caught sight of your marks, almost entirely faded but still visible.

He ran the tip of his index finger down the side of your neck and along your collarbone, making you shiver. “Did anyone see these?” he asked, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You shook your head. “No, I kept them covered. I had to use makeup the first couple of days, though.”

You’d been paranoid all week, making sure the collar of your shirts covered all of the hickies Jinyoung had left on your skin. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal if you didn’t live with Sana—if she had seen, she would have had too many questions and you were an awful liar. You would have broken in moments and told her everything.

Jinyoung hummed, slipping his fingers back to the nape of your neck. “I guess this time I’ll have to mark you where no one can see them but me.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, his other hand sliding down to your lower back so he could bring your bodies flush together. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his hardness pressed between you.

Jinyoung’s hand slid around to the front of you, undoing your jeans with one hand while the other stayed buried in your hair. You helped him out, pushing your jeans down your hips and kicking them off once they’d gotten down to your shins.

He parted from your lips after a moment and took his hands off of you, stepping back to take in your half naked frame. Your cheeks felt hot under his stare. He looked at you with such a lustful, predatory gaze that was totally new to you. Your skin tingled, just wanting to feel his touch once more.

“You wanna know what I thought about these last few days?” He asked, running his tongue over his bottom lip, pink and slightly swollen from your kisses.

All you could do was nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

“All the sounds I could get you to make. I bet you sound incredible when you just let go, and especially when you come.” Jinyoung took one step towards you, trailing a fingertip down the front of your throat, down between the valley of your breasts. “Let’s see how loud you can be, hm?”

You knew, deep in your soul, that Jinyoung could easily get you screaming and writhing underneath of him. It was as if the other night had just been a fraction of the pleasure he could give you. After all, you’d been forced to stay quiet and you’d been so nervous. But he had an air about him, a confidence that suggested he knew what he was doing, and exactly how to unravel you.

When Jinyoung stepped forward again, this time he was grabbing you around the backs of your thighs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around him. He carried you the short distance over to the couch, setting you down so you perched on the back edge.

“Remember what I promised?”

How could you forget? The image he’d painted into your mind while he was thrusting inside of you, of your body bent over the back of his couch, letting the entire world hear just how good he could make you feel. It had replayed in your mind countless times since then.

“Yes,” you answered, hands gripping onto the fabric of the couch on either side of you.

“Spread your legs,” he told you, then kneeled down in front of you. You obeyed. You could feel his eyes raking over you once more, which never affected you any less. Had he ever looked at you like this before? It was taking the breath right from your chest. “Take that off.”

As he nodded to your top half, you reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra before letting it fall away. You would have done whatever he asked right now, no question. All you could see in your haze of desire was Jinyoung. You shivered and noticed his window was open, letting a light breeze drift across your half naked frame.

God, he really did want all of his neighbors to hear you.

Just as he did last time, he started slow. He propped one of your legs up on his shoulder, turning his head to place gentle kisses on your inner thighs. His hands kept your legs spread to his liking, giving him ample room where he knelt.

If anything, he was teasing you more this time around. Maybe because it was just you and him, no time constraints, no reason to keep your pleasure to yourselves. You were screwed, if your first experience with him was just a warm up.

You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, basking in the gentle ministrations of his mouth. He hadn’t even gotten to your heat yet, just nuzzling your thighs and leaving wet kisses on your skin. Every now and then, he stopped to suck at your skin, undoubtedly leaving a hickey in his wake.

When you felt his teeth sink into your thigh, you gasped, lowering your chin to look down at him. He raised a brow to check that you were okay, you nodded eagerly. Though most probably wouldn’t expect it from you, you absolutely loved when men were a bit more rough with you. Nothing too crazy, but you craved the delicate balance between pain and pleasure.

Jinyoung finally led his kisses upwards, closer and closer to your core. When his lips met the edge of your panties, he pulled back to remove them, sliding the lace down your legs until they dropped off your ankle.

His burning gaze scanned over you once more, full of hunger, before he finally leaned in and got to work. The moment his tongue touched your clit, your mouth fell open and your nails dug into the upholstery you were keeping balance on.

Even just the slightest kitten licks he started with had your hips twitching up towards his face, causing his hands to come around your waist, holding you in place. You had thought of him all week, just like this, more times than you would admit to him or yourself. He’d worked magic with his tongue, and you’d been desperate to feel it again.

At a perfectly angled flick of his tongue, you moaned out his name instinctively, which just encouraged him even more. He was pulling out all the stops, you figured, determined to have you noisy as could be.

“Fuck, right there,” you moaned, your hand reaching for the back of his head.

Jinyoung scooted closer, grabbing both of your thighs to hook them over his shoulders, while his tongue drifted down to your center to taste you there. He hummed as soon as your wetness hit his tongue, the vibrations going straight to your clit. He really wanted to drive you crazy.

He pulled back just enough to circle his index and middle fingers around your entrance, coating them with your arousal before they pushed inside. You whimpered, your walls clamping on his digits.

“Tell me how it feels,” he told you, his voice deep and laced with want.

Your eyes opened and you lifted your head, tilting your face down to watch him. “So—fuck, so good,” you started, biting hard onto your lower lip as you watched him twist his fingers inside of you. “I thought about this so many times,” you admitted.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in to suck at your clit for a long moment just because he could. Your hips lifted as he pulled away, whining when the sensation of his mouth left you. “Did you touch yourself?”

Your throat went dry as you stared down at him, cheeks going red as you thought back to the other night in bed. You’d tossed and turned, debating with yourself. It seemed to cross a line, somehow, to touch yourself while thinking of him. But you’d lost the battle, eventually shoving your hands into your sweatpants and rubbing yourself to your peak.

“Yes,” you answered, swallowing. “I had to. I couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth on me.”

Jinyoung had the nerve to smirk, his fingers still working in and out of you. “Dirty girl,” he teased, his voice condescending in a way that sent a tingle straight to your core. “Did you come?”

You could only nod, unable to form words with the way he was fucking his fingers into you. He looked awfully pleased with your answer, and you couldn’t believe how hot it was. He’d always been cocky, but you had no idea it would turn you on so much.

Just as you expected him to continue eating you out, he stood from between your legs, his fingers sliding out of you. He silenced your protesting with his lips on yours, kissing you hard enough to take your breath away.

As he pulled away, he grabbed your hips and forced you to stand. “You want to see what I’ve been thinking about all week?” He turned you around, sliding his arms tenderly around your waist and placing a kiss to your shoulder. “Bend over, angel. And don’t move.”

His touch left you then as he walked away. You stood there, bent over the couch with your arms folded in front of you for what felt like an hour but in reality, was probably less than a minute. You’d never felt so exposed, quite literally, even though you’d made sure that his curtains were closed and you weren’t giving any of his neighbors a free show.

When Jinyoung returned, you heard the clinking of his pants and underwear being shoved to the floor, then the foil of the condom wrapper. You waited, obedient as ever, while Jinyoung rolled the condom onto himself. It felt like your heart was about to pound right out of your chest in anticipation.

“Ready?” he asked, sliding his hand down from your shoulder blades to your lower back.

“Mm,” you responded, arching your back.

As he sank into you, you both let out sighs of pleasure. You felt like you’d memorized how he had felt inside of you before, but this was entirely new. The way his hips aligned with yours was heavenly, his cock angling inside of you just right.

“Oh. Oh my God,” you moaned, your hands grasping onto the couch. “Don’t move for a sec, okay?”

He listened, caressing your back with his hands and rubbing circles into your skin. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, you’re just—big,” you said, blushing and glancing back at him.

He managed not to smirk at you this time, but you knew he wanted to. Every guy liked to hear his dick was big, you were almost positive of that. As your walls stretched to accommodate him, you nodded at him, signaling for him to continue.

Jinyoung set a slow but deep pace inside of you and it had you moaning every time he bottomed out. He was muttering words of praise, mostly inaudible, but you could barely focus on anything besides the way he was pushing into your g-spot.

You made up for his silence. Moaning his name, louder and louder as he picked up his pace. Your head dipped forward to rest against your arm, one hand covering your mouth to silence a particularly loud cry.

Before you even realized what was happening, Jinyoung tore your hand away from your mouth. “I don’t think so,” he told you. He reached around you, relentless with his thrusts, and grabbed both of your hands. He pulled both of your arms behind you until he had your wrists linked behind your back, clasped underneath of his palm.

“Fuck, Jinyoung, I can’t—“ you whined, pressing your forehead into the cushion.

“You can,” he responded. “I told you, I want you loud. Tell me what you need.”

“You’re—” you started, letting out a strangled moan, “so good. Fuck me harder, please. Please.”

His hips snapped against you in a forceful thrust, pushing you forward into the couch, but you loved it. The noises he had you making were louder and dirtier than anything that had ever come out of your mouth with previous partners. You were still getting used to the fact that Jinyoung could get you to this place, so needy and desperate.

Jinyoung’s pace inside of you got faster, and you drowned out the sounds of his skin hitting yours with your moans, the volume reaching new heights when he reached around with his free hand to rub your clit.

“Are you close?” he asked, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. “You’re so tight. Jesus.”

You nodded. “I-I’m so close, Jinyoung. Please, please, don’t stop.”

For once, Jinyoung was the obedient one, driving into you at a consistently breathtaking pace. All you could think about was the way he felt inside of you and his two fingers drawing patterns on your clit.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered near your ear, “Be a good girl for me.”

That was all it took. Somewhere, in the back of your head, you knew you were too loud. It was the middle of the evening, there was no way there wouldn’t be a noise complaint called into his landlord. But you couldn’t help it.

The heat in your belly spread to flames, engulfing your entire body as you came, hard, around him. He practically had you sobbing, your hands pinned behind your back giving you absolutely nothing to hold onto. You were completely at his mercy.

Jinyoung at least let you rest for a moment, slowing his movements inside of you. He dropped your hands and you slumped over the couch, your thighs still twitching with the aftershocks.

“Come here,” he said, gently pulling you up to a full standing position and turning you around, his cock slipping out of you. Just that was enough to make you whimper, too oversensitive from your orgasm.

He lifted you up again, carrying you around to the other side of the couch. Laying you down, he climbed on top of you. You were finally coherent enough to wrap your arms around him, pulling him down for a kiss.

As great as your previous position had been, you had missed seeing his face, which was unexpected but you decided to push that feeling down.

When he pulled away, you locked eyes with him and nodded, silently signaling for him to continue. You wanted to make him feel good, wanted him to reach euphoria just as you had, though it’d be a much quieter experience.

You exhaled when he slipped back inside of you, your walls still wet and eager for him, if not more so now. He kept eye contact with you as if he knew that’s what you had been missing before. His gaze was so intense it had you pulsing between your legs all over again.

This time, his pace wasn’t as quick or forceful, but he was still reaching spots inside of you that made you shiver. One hand came up to the side of your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek gently, contrasting with the way he was pushing inside of you.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your fingers into the skin of his shoulder blades. He groaned and leaned his forehead against yours, thrusting into you deep.

“Right there,” you told him, resisting every urge to squeeze your eyes shut. You wouldn’t come again, you were too worn out, but you knew he was capable of taking you there, if he had a little less mercy.

Jinyoung’s thrusts got faster, a bit less controlled, hinting that he wouldn’t last much longer. “Fuck, Y/N,” he panted. He dropped his head down, kissing down your jaw to your throat. “Gonna come soon.”

“Please,” you breathed, mustering the strength to roll your hips up to meet his next thrust. “I want it, Jinyoung, please.”

With a few more thrusts, he suddenly slowed to a stop, his entire body stiffening as he came. His teeth scraped against your skin, hard enough to nearly break skin. The sound he made was one you wanted to remember forever.

Jinyoung stilled inside of you after a moment, pressing his lips into your skin one final time before he pulled away. “Are you okay?” he asked, not because he was worried but just because he cared.

“Mhm,” you answered. “Legs are jelly still, though.”

He chuckled lowly and sat up, sliding out of you. “Should I apologize or say you’re welcome?”

You slapped playfully at his chest and sat up as well. “Loser. Get me a towel, please?”

~~~

Once you’d gotten cleaned up and your clothes back on, you and Jinyoung sat on the couch, Netflix playing some true crime documentary you’d both seen the first episode of before and never continued. Neither of you were one to binge TV. Books, however, were a different story.

The way you were curled up on the couch could have appeared rather romantic, but it was mostly because your legs were already sore from bending over the back of the couch. Or so you told yourself.

You leaned into Jinyoung’s side, his arm thrown over the cushion beside you. The evening was still young, and you’d both figured there was no need for you to leave so soon. Besides, it made the whole situation feel cheap if you left within five minutes of having an orgasm.

“Have you ever wondered how many serial killers you’ve sold books to?” Jinyoung asked, breaking the silence.

You stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows. “No. But now I will, asshole.” He grinned, running his fingertips up and down the curve of your shoulder. “Oh, God. Probably so many.”

“You know that guy with the big cowboy belt? The one that’s always buying the sleazy novels?”

“Oh, definitely,” you answered, turning your head into his chest and giggling. “He always puts them face down as if I don’t know what I’m ringing up.”

“If you disappear, I’ll be sure to let the police know to add him to the suspect list.”

You huffed. “Thanks, Jinyoung.”

“Anytime.” He gave you a shit eating grin, squeezing your shoulder. “Hey, you going to BamBam’s birthday thing on Saturday?”

You hummed in response. “Are you?”

“I thought about it. Been a while since I’ve been out to a club, though. I’m afraid I’ll look like the old grumpy man in the corner.”

The mental image had you giggling again. “I mean, you might. But yeah, I’ll be there. Need me to get you drunk to loosen you up?”

Jinyoung chuckled. “Maybe. As long as you don’t take advantage of me, try and drag me into any dark corridors...”

You feigned offense, a hand to your chest. “Would I do something like that?”

“I don’t know,” he stared down at you, “would you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Never. I’m a lady.”

Jinyoung snorted. “Pretty sure the noises you were making just a bit ago were not very ladylike.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said. “I’m a respectable young woman.”

When Jinyoung’s hand drifted down from your shoulder to your waist, pulling you closer, you stared up at him with raised eyebrows. “Do you need a reminder?”

You swatted his hand away, wiggling away from him. “Oh my God, you’re insatiable. I’m still sore, you freak. Give me at least a 24 hour recovery period.”

When his hand decided to squeeze and tickle your sides, you shrieked and tried to scoot away from him but he was too quick, grasping both your hips and keeping you in place.

“I’ll give you something, alright,” he said, grinning down at you. “You’re gonna have to work on your stamina.”

You tried and failed to move away from him, your hands weakly slapping at his shoulders while you giggled underneath of him. “Jinyoung!”

“Hmm, now that sounds familiar.”

“I hate you so much,” you said around your laughs, practically gasping for breath now. Jinyoung finally relented, ceasing his tickling but remaining on top of you.

“I doubt that,” he responded, leaning down to catch your lips with his. You relaxed under him, your hands clasping his shoulders as you deepened the kiss.

When you instinctively rolled your hips up towards the growing bulge in his pants, he pulled away, a shocked look on his face. “I thought you needed 24 hours?”

You scrunched your nose at him, pinching his ear. “Shut up and take my clothes off.”

~~~

It turned out, you didn’t quite need as much recovery time as you thought. After Jinyoung brought you over the edge twice, one time with just his fingers and another deep inside of you, you both got dressed once more.

Reminiscent of your first night together, Jinyoung smoothed your hair back away from your face and thumbed your chin as you stood by the door. “Drive safe.”

“I will. Thanks,” you told him again, chewing your lip. “I’ll see you Saturday?”

“Mm. Text me if you need me before then, okay?”

You both knew what he meant. Even as you walked out of his apartment down to your car, you had a feeling you’d be begging to see him long before Saturday arrived.

#got7 #got7 fanfic #jinyoung #park jinyoung #got7 fic #got7 smut #jinyoung fic #jinyoung smut #got7 scenario #got7 reaction #park jinyoung smut #jinyoung fanfic #got7 imagine #jinyoung imagine #writing

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1084

survey by trixie11

Yesterday

What time did you wake up? I woke up at 9:30 AM, extremely parched and hungover from the night before. Though I dunno if I should say the night before, since I was in a video call with my college friends from 9 PM to 5 AM, lol. But anyway, we drank a lot and talked a lot and it was SO much fun. I can’t believe it took us 10 months to do this.

Where were you sleeping at? I slept in my own bed, as always.

What was for breakfast? My dad made pancit with pork and vegetables. He also made a bowl of lugaw meant for both my mom (who’s currently on a diet) and for me (since he saw I looked wrecked, and lugaw is a popular hangover food).

What did you wear? I was wearing a black halter top and shorts during the day, but I took a shower in the afternoon and changed into a striped tank top and a new pair of shorts.

Did you go to school? Nope. I did visit UP with Andi last Friday and it felt so uhfjfdlsfsdfh being there. It was such a range of emotions, knowing I haven’t been there since March, I never got a proper senior year experience, seeing all the barriers blocking the streets that lead to the buildings that now double as COVID isolation facilities; and, of course, knowing that this was the place I shared with Gabie for four years and now she isn’t even a part of my life anymore in any way.

Did you go to work? No, it was a Sunday.

What was for lunch? My family always has breakfast really late, so it already doubles as our lunch. I think we were all in the living room to watch a mass livestream during noon.

What was for dinner? My mom made some kind of creamy pasta with toasted bread on the side.

Where else did you go? I stayed home yesterday since I had already gone out last Friday night with Andi and to recharge from my 7-hour call with friends last Saturday. Plus, going out would just tempt me to spend when I have barely anything left from my last paycheck, hahaha.

What did you do there? I just had a Worth It marathon all day. I also finally got up to speed on the independent channel of BuzzFeed people Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara, and Steven Lim called Watcher. I remember subscribing as soon as they launched the channel a year ago but never had time to watch their any of their series. But I finally did, and it turns out I was missing out so bad; their content is pretty great.

Who did you talk to? Well I was up until 5 AM from the night before, and in that call were Blanch, Lui, Jo, JM, Kate, and Laurice. The day after, I talked to my dad, mom, Nina, Andi, and Angela.

Who did you hang out with? Just myself. Me time is super important to me, especially on Sundays.

Who did you text? My phone remained off for most of yesterday.

Who did you call? Didn’t need to call anyone, either.

Anything else about yesterday? By 5 AM only Kate, Laurice, Jo, and I were left in the call since the others got sleepy; we ended up talking about Nacho and thinking back to the time he passed away and sharing our own stories. That was sad, but also therapeutic. Andi also shared photos of them wearing the skirt I gave them for Christmas and I was super happy to see them feel confident in it.

Today

What time did you wake up? I first woke up at around 6:45 AM, but I went back to sleep and woke up again at 7:30. I usually get up to start work at 8, so I spent the next half hour trying to wake myself up and shake off the anxiety I was feeling.

Where'd you wake up at? Again, my bed.

What's for breakfast? Skipped it. It’s my lunch break now and my stomach’s been growling like crazy all morning, so after this survey I might go downstairs and find something to munch on.

School today? No school for me. In general, I think law school is off the table for good. JM told a lot of horror stories covering the toxic culture in law schools all over the country and it’s just...I just don’t think it’s worth it to go through the things he touched on just to get a law degree, especially since I’m not even passionate about being a lawyer. I just thought it could be an option since I like memorizing stuff, lol.

How about work? Yeah, I have work but it’s 12:10 so we’re on lunch break.

What's for lunch? I still have to see.

Dinner? Not sure. My dad usually makes delicious dinner though so I don’t think too hard about this.

Who did you talk to today? I’ve talked to some of my colleagues at work - Ysa, Bea, Denise, Danielle, Pia, and our newest associate Aimee, who starts today and who I already know since we went to college together and took up journalism - and I’ve also talked to Nina, Angela, and Kate.

Who'd you text? Nobody; I don’t really text anymore unless it’s for work. My weekly promo actually expired yesterday so I wouldn’t be able to text unless I redeem that promo again.

Who'd you call? I was in a video call with my work team this morning for our weekly check-in. Then I have three more work-related calls lined up this afternoon.

Anywhere else you're going? I plan to be at home for the rest of my shift and to stay home in the evening so that I have enough time to recharge before tomorrow morning.

What are you doing there? ^ Oop, already touched on that.

What did you wear today? I’m still wearing the same striped tank top + shorts combo from yesterday.

Anything else about today? I hate how anxious I get every Sunday evening/Monday morning before work when things have always ended up being more than okay 10 times out of 10. I don’t know where the nerves come from when I do my tasks correctly and on time, anyway. What matters is I’m settled now at work and I’m just looking forward to finish my shift.

Tomorrow

What time are you waking up? Same time, since I have the same routine every weekday. Sigh, I miss the variety that college life gave me - even things like having my first classes at different hours of the day every weekday already provided a lot of excitement. The 9-6 set-up + WFH can feel so lonely sometimes.

Where will you be waking up? I sleep in my bed like 98% of the time but I also end up passing out on the living room couch sometimes. I can never tell, so this is a question mark for now.

What are you going to eat for breakfast? I will probably skip breakfast as always. If not, I imagine having scrambled eggs, hotdogs, and a couple slices of white bread.

What are you going to wear? I’ll just pick out housewear items from my drawer.

Are you going to school? No.

Are you going to work? You know it.

What are you going to eat for lunch? I don’t plan this far ahead.

What are you going to eat for dinner? No clue but again, my dad will 100% whip up something delicious as he always does for dinner.

Where else are you going? I’m only staying at home since I will need a strong, consistent internet connection to be able to work. This goes for every weekday too.

Who will you talk to? The people I’ll surely talk to are Ysa, Bea, Pia, Danielle, and Aimee since I work with them daily. My parents and sister, too.

Who will you text? I still can’t tell, but probably no one.

Who will you call? I have one Google Meet call scheduled for tomorrow, but we’re 26 in the group and I’m not in the mood to list everyone’s names down.

Who will you hang out with? I’ll only be with myself. My friends are busy with their own stuff on weekdays too, so it’s okay.

Anything else about tomorrow? It’s one day closer to the weekend so it’s something to look forward to.

In conclusion...

What day of the week was yesterday? Yesterday was Sunday.

Today? Monday.

Tomorrow? Tuesday.

What was the date yesterday? January 17th.

Today? 18th.

Tomorrow? It’ll be the 19th.

Which of the three days do you think will be the best? Sunday was obviously the best.

Why? It was the weekend andddd I got to sleep in.

Which one do you talk to more people? Monday is usually the busiest day at work, so I think it would be safe to assume I’ll be talking to more people today compared to yesterday and tomorrow.

Call more people? My Monday schedules will occsionally be flooded with scheduled work-related video calls. I have four for today alone, but I’m already done with three; the last one isn’t until 4 PM.

Text more people? It always differs.

#survey #surveys

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shesawriter39049 · 4 years

Text

|ROLL DEEP|M| P.1

*Yoongi centered fic with a shared OT7 plot*

CH.1.1 CH. 1.2

**Operation: What’s eating blue!?***

_________________________________________________________

“Stop, this stopped being a you, thing and became a us thing the minute we chose to show up here tonight! You gave us an out and we stayed...we will always stay...”

1.2 K Sneak Peek

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Sugar baby AU/Suspense/Smut/Angst/Roomate AU/FWB AU

WC: 7K

Nonsexual Warnings: Mentions of drug use (Molly/weed/)Strong language/ Alcohol addictions/ brief mentions/ speculations of domestic violence/abuse

Sexual Warnings: Oral (M & F receiving) power bottom Min Yoongi, cum play, breath play, spanking, dirty talk, Slight overestimation, sex toys (Cock rings....) Semi-public sex (A chill little blow job in the car) The sexual warnings are for both parts of CH.1 so the smut is split in half!

NOTE: Just to clarify the dynamic Yoongi and the OC are roommates who hookup on the side, they are BOTH sugar babies to two separate people! So yes, that would imply that Yoongi and some of the other boys who are also sugar babies are Bi. There is no MxM but there is mentions of it occasionally….as well as some harmless ot7 flirting! Also all of the boys are introed, Tae and Joon just play a lager part here!

_______________________________________________

I guess, fuck where do we even start? Maybe, will go back to where it all technically started, which was the last time things felt...somewhat normal yeah?

So, that would be...hmm...about 2 weeks shy of you heading into Junior year at USC right? The day your boys picked you up at the airport, and the three of your treated Blue, aka TaeTae to brunch!?

Well, wait let’s back track a little it all started much eariler than that, because you weren’t even aware of your brunch plans until later in the day. So Initially the day in question kicks of with you, in oversized blacked out CHLOE shades, hungover as fuck, sat in at the airport one Sunday afternoon. Smack dab in the middle of Terminal 6, in a bar called Blu2o sipping on a Bloody Mary, scrolling aimlessly through Snapchat. While simotaniously being told for the very first time ...that you’ll be attending a “Haute Couture” themed charity auction...on Tuesday! Yup, the day after tomorrow! Thank god he can’t see your damn face right now, biting down on your straw to muzzle yourself!

“No, babe it’s fine, I’ll just hit Rodeo tomorrow morning, and I’m sure my nail and lash girl can fit me-Oh you...haven’t gotten... what ...your wearing either?” Parroting the words back In slow motion as if it would make the words sound better or something!

Oh for fucks sake! Bringing your forehead flush to the marble bartop already feeling a full blown migraine brewing at the nape of your neck. Giving yourself a couple moments to self compose, this man is so damn unorganized it’s unfucking real. His personal assistant better be the 2nd highest paid person within his entire company because…..This is far from new, I don’t even know why your suprised and I’d say you don’t get paid enough for this....but ya do! So you suck it up, lose the attitude and slip right into your “Yes sir” or maybe I should say ‘Yes daddy” voice.

“Don’t worry about it, I know your busy. I totally get it, your a 28 waist right? Of course, I remember...I remember everything you tell me….Ohhh your gonna let me put you in color too???” Eyes flickering up to the notification from your bank, noting a cute little 12k wire pending.

“Yeah, no, I see it, that should be good. I was thinking Versace or Cavili for you anyway...they have good prints to fit the theme, and if all else fails I have my card too…yup..just landed about..hmm... 30 minutes ago actually. Of course, stop apologizing, Sunday's are always your golf days, I get it, hey, tell the guys I said hi and enjoy your day. Text me later if you feel up to it..k....bye..”

Were you actually getting a little flustered there towards the end? It's the slight accent, isn't it? Honestly, it didn't take much for you to slip into “character” with him, even after barely being together a full month. For one he wasn’t an asshole, had a decent sense of humor, and he’s really fuckin hot...however there was one, little, well shit, not so little issue...you noticed while with him recently. Which, then sparked quite a few questions while also answering some that had been rattling through your head since the day you met. But will circle back to the fact that you spent a week on vacation with a man, while dressed in some of the sexiest pieces of 2019 couture! Yet..you barely got touched once outside of a couple chaste kisses and hand-holding while at the two fashion shows you attended together… so, yeah, yeah!

A low groan in frustration rattled from your throat as you continued scrolling through Snapchat, trying to come up with some possible outfit scenarios in your head! It’s kinda funny, how mynute all of that seems now though, how your definition of “Stress” that day was you trying to decide if your sugar daddy was gay, while also finding time to fit in a self-care day, shopping, and getting your books for school!! The fact that, that was what you considered migraine worthy, fuck, what you wouldn’t give to consider multitasking your only maltitude of “stress” again …..

Just in your own little world, mind swirling with a couple of stylists you’ve met along the way, considering the idea of them pulling some vintage pieces for you instead! What you should be doing, is scrolling through your contact list and texting said stylists, instead you find yourself more and more distracted. Getting lost in the mounds of snap updates from Jimin as he “modestly” sunbathed in a private villa in Italy. Then later sharing a glimpse into his shopping spree from Versace, no doubt a good 20k worth of Italian luxury spread out along the plush white sheets. Sending him a cheeky little “That’s my boy” with a couple of smug winky faces in response!

It’s still kinda crazy to think, things like that are considered normal within your world now, the fact that you aren’t even surprised at the number of gifts. Or, simply the fact that your barley 21-year-old best friend is sunbathing in Italy on someone else’s dime. Then again, you just got sent 12 thousand dollars to spend on an event that would last maybe all of 5 hours, while sitting next to a stack of Louis Vuittion luggage from your first class flight in from Vegas, technically. Opting to land there first after a long 15-hour flight, checking in at The Four Seasons for not even a solid 24 hours before coming home! Honestly?There was no real reason for the pit stop except it gave you an excuse to see a friend while also allowing you to unwind in one of your favorite hotels!

That sentence alone is actually absurd when you really think about it, the idea of you casually booking flights and suites in 5-star hotels as if you’re ordering off the damn dollar menu at Mcdonalds! You, the girl that was working two jobs at the Groove and mourning a piece of shit cheating ex boyfriend her freshman year of college.....is now reminiscing about catching flights to chill with friends and last minute finding dresses for Couture themed galas.Like, what the actual fuck is life.... Oh my bad, life at the moment is constantly being paranoid that you and your friends will get arrested! Life in this moment however...was a fucking perfect!

The friend you where meeting in Vegas was Hoseok by the way, the redhead was currently vacationing in Sin City for the next couple of days, typically residing in LA as well. Just Chillin’ before the semester starts, living his best life, which revolves around “OFF-WHITE'' shopping sprees, private dance lessons, and constantly taking thirst trap pics for his 10’s of thousands of followers online. He randomly texts you saying “I miss your face” you text him saying “I land at 8 tonight bring a bottle and sushi to room 605 at The Four Seasons hotel '' Simple!

Your initial flight, the one that was 15 hours, was originally from Paris, where you spent the last week or so with Jeong-su, being arm candy, sipping wine, sightseeing and of course shopping!. Barley 32 hours ago your Snapchat looked pretty damn similar, if not worse in comparison to Jimin’s but what can I say, you can’t be in the home of Givenchy and Gaulthier and not go to Givenchy and Gaultier!

What your life is, what you and your friends do, I mean, I think it’s safe to say it’s pretty self-explanatory yeah? The average 20 something-year-old in college isn't flying themselves out of the country or going luxury shopping without a little help. In your case, it’s typically thanks to a person you commonly refer to as “Daddy” now, the context behind the word however….is where you and your friends may differ from others…..

But that’s your business, your concern and more importantly your choice, and honestly for a while life seemed too damn good to be true...I guess looking back on it now, I guess that’s because it kinda was!

Sat at the predominantly empty bar alone, more than content by the silence, twirling your straw between your lips, as you scanned back over the shit show that was your schedule for the semester! Getting more of a migraine from that, then shopping or even the fact that you're still hungover and drinking on an empty stomach at half-past 12. Shooting a quick text to your redheaded best friend cursing him out for getting you drunk off your ass on a bottle of Yamazaki 12.

“Can I get anything else for you beautiful? Another drink or maybe an appetizer? We have damn good loaded queso fries if I do say so myself!” Waving the menu in your face playfully, the warm, inviting voice in front of you was the bartender, who’s had his eye on you since you swayed in. Even if you looked like crap for your standards you knew to most you were the farthest thing from it as you swayed into the bar like you owned the place. In your heels, and tiny little black dress, while an airport assistant trolied in your luggage behind you! Ohhh Blair Waldorf would without a doubt be proud!

“Mmmm…” Lips pursed in a slight pout as you raked over the menu, honestly, you were hungry and they have bomb ass fried pickles…..”Actually, yeah, I’ll get-”

“ 3 tall shots of whatever top-shelf Tequila you have, also add whatever she’s been drinking to my tab, along with an order of fried pickles with extra ranch…please and thank you!” Smoothly sliding his black card, and ID across the marble bartop for review.

Oh.

The look on the bartender’s face was fucking priceless, torn between shitting himself and maybe….nah, just straight shitting himself! Skin flushed, the sense of panic was clear as day, wondering if he’d overstepped that fine line between customer service and filtration. Considering whoever the person behind you is, clearly knows you well enough to know your food order. A forced bashful smile playing along his lips as he bowed out in acknowledgment, sliding the gentelmen back is ID and whispering out a faint “Yes sir, coming right up…”

The base vibrating through your ears instantly had you readjusting your posture, a strong tingle running down your spine, back arching ever so slightly. A playful smirk playing along your lips as you slowly laced your tongue back around your staw, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You sure you wanna do that? My tastes are pretty expensive..” Tone blatantly flirtatious, yet you still hadn’t bothered to even turn around, that’s when suddenly you hear a deep arrogant chuckle rumbling low in his chest. Only...this sounds a little brighter? And like it’s coming from your left instead of behind you…

“Mmm, I’m sure we can handle it baby….”

You could feel the air shift behind you, it felt warmer, and there was a strong mix of scents flooding through your nose. Leaning back in your seat, pleasantly finding your shoulders, the back of your neck, and your head, cradled against a lean wall of silk. Sighing contently, naturally letting your body melt into his frame, nose running into your face as you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. That’s when a gangle of veiny, porcelain limbs wrapped around your shoulders pulling you even tighter against him, only to find brown, sharp, cat-like eyes staring down at you, though a pair of translucent designer shades. Seemingly a little bit amused at how excited you are to see him. Long dark wavy locks falling messily into his face, a tiny silver hoop dawning his button nose. Tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, letting the tiny silver ball slip between his lips. This angle lets you really appreciate how sharp, yet soft his features were, an oxymoron that honestly makes no damn sense unless you see him in person….jawline sharp enough to cut glass yet he has the cutest cheeks ever when he smiles. It honestly makes no sense whatsoever and he’s one of the many reasons you have trust issues. Well, that and your line of work, considering the number of men you find out are married and still try and sneak around with you.

Then, as if to just make his presence known, there’s another pair of hands making their home along your body, gently squeezing your thigh. Except, he’s polar opposite to the person I just described, the man behind you is your roommate Yoongi, the man who just took a seat to your left, is your other roommate Namjoon! First off, he’s tall as all hell, and an offensively perfect shade of brown, he can’t even go into the burbs without being asked what self-tanner he uses. In which he smugly replies “Genetics” letting them sit there and try and google said company that makes that brand of self-tan. Streams of meticulously placed colored neo-traditional tattoos paint his skin, accompanied by deep dimples, and bleach blonde hair styled into an undercut, sides buzzed into the perfect fade.

“So you gonna get up and give me a real hug or what???” Placing a kiss in your hair as he pulled back, giving you room to hop out of your seat and right into his arms.

The Full thing is coming soon, this is from summer 2019, I just have to edit, and reread the full thing again! I also wrote the first 3 parts all at once..sooo if your exicted show this some love anddddddddd come let me know!

Love you as always,

Rocki

#Yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi au #yoongi x reader #namjoon #namjoon au #taehyung #taehyung au #bts au fic #bts au #bts smut #kpop smut kpop au #kpop au #min yoongi

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jos-corner-of-the-world · 4 years

Text

The Assignment - 15

(14)

The week passed quickly for Alex. By Friday, she decided that she’d celebrate the long week, and Kihyun’s impending arrival by getting drunk. Alone.

When she got into the SUV on Friday after work, she’d directed Changkyun to go to the liquor store closest to her house. Jooheon, sitting in the front seat, didn’t say anything, but cocked on eyebrow at Alex’s demand.

“You planning on dying tonight?” Changkyun asked her as she got back in the car from making her purchases.

“Not planning on drinking it all tonight, obviously. But I couldn’t decide what I wanted so I got vodka, tequila, rum and whiskey.” Alex said.

-----

Alex was seven mixed drinks and two shots into her binge when Jooheon found her in the library.

“Are you okay ma’am?” he asked her. He noticed that she was swaying on her feet as she looked out the window.

“Why did things have to change?” Alex asked.

“What do you mean ma’am?” he asked.

“You know what I mean. I thought after we said goodbye to each other at the airport after graduation...that would be the end. I hated the idea of never seeing you again, but I accepted it. Why did you come back?” she asked.

“It’s complicated ma’am.”

“For tonight, please don’t call me ma’am. I hate it. I hate it so much.” Alex said, voice desperate.

“If that’s what you want.” Jooheon acquiesced.

“Damnit Jooheon that’s not what I want! I want none of this to have happened. I want to go back to that airport and beg you not to go. And then I think about it more and that’s not right either. I want to go back to orientation and make that be the last time we ever saw each other. Make our first date, or first kiss, our two years together ‘in love’ never happen. Do you understand that standing here with you right now hurts? Everytime I see your face and you’re not smiling, it hurts.”

“Alex. I’m sorry. I wish I could explain everything to you. I wish I could make all the pain go away. But I can’t. This is how it happened, and I don’t regret it.” Jooheon said.

“You don’t have any regrets? Not a single one?” she asked, finally turning towards him.

“No.”

Jooheon said it with such conviction that Alex almost believed him. But with everything that’s happened, the situation that they were in, her mind recoiled at the idea.

Alex wasn’t the only one recoiling. Jooheon had regrets. A lot of them in fact.

He regretted lying to Alex so much. He regretted how his decisions made her feel. He even regretted part of his decision to come back into Alex’s life the way he had.

But he didn’t regret the time they spent together, or the memories they shared. He didn’t regret dating her or falling in love with her.

“Of course you don’t regret it.” Alex scoffed. “I’m sure my dad pays you well. You got to keep your job and still get laid almost every night. Perfect situation.”

“Alex. It wasn’t like that.” Jooheon argued. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I lied to you, but I needed to keep you safe. You were and still are my top priority.”

“No. Your priority is money, just like my father. Jesus Christ, I guess it is true when people say women find partners like their father. Nailed that one.”

“That’s not fair! Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I like being here right now? I know how much you hate it. I know how much pain you’re in Alex! I feel it too. But I can’t let you get hurt either. I understand you hate me. I understand you don’t want me here and would rather have anyone else here. But that’s not an option. I will do everything I have to to keep you safe. I will put my life on the fucking line to make sure no one hurts you. I can take the hate, and the yelling and screaming. I can’t take it if something happens to you.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m mad at you, and I hate the decision you made. But I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you.” Alex said sadly.

“You don’t?” Jooheon asked.

“How can I have hate in my heart when there’s no room? My heart is still full of love. Even though my brain hates the memories, my heart still has them. I see you, and my heart just...remembers. Remembers how easy it was being in a relationship with you. How much fun we had, and how much I felt then. Sometimes I see you, and my heart reacts before my head does. I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing for me. I know i haven’t said so, but I do. I appreciate you trying to keep me safe. But everything else...everything else just sucks.”

Jooheon stood there staring at Alex. He could see the pain etched so plainly on her face. His heart broke as he watched her completely crumble in front of him.

He wanted to run to her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go. But he couldn't. He couldn't let his feelings get in the way of doing his job. Not again. He had to stay completely professional and not blur any lines. It was hard, but it was the only choice he had.

He watched as Alex sat heavily on the floor, no doubt unable to keep herself upright anymore.

“I'm sorry ma'am.” he said sadly, pulling the carefully crafted emotionless mask back up.

As much as it killed him, he walked away from her. Instead, sending Wonho in his place to console her. He knew Wonho and Alex were on the fritz, but he also knew Alex needed someone, anyone.

And it couldn't be him.

-----

The next morning Alex walked around in a zombie like state. She was hungover. Both from the alcohol and the many hours of crying she'd done.

By Sunday, she still hadn't come out of her funk, or spoken to anyone. Jooheon was starting to worry.

His worry increased tenfold when, on Monday morning, she didn't even gripe about Minhyuk's perky attitude or snappy comments.

“Today is pretty light. Other than your normal schedule you have lunch with Kihyun at noon and a meeting with Hyungwon at 3.”

“Ok. Jooheon.” Alex said.

Jooheon was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Ma'am?” He asked

“You need to dress casually today please. You're coming to lunch as a friend, not a bodyguard.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Jooheon wondered if they'd be able to fake it enough in front of Kihyun.

(16)

#jooheon #lee jooheon #mx #monsta x #the assignment #15 #fic #series #imagine #scenario #au #jos corner of the world

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ktrsss1fics · 5 years

Photo

Thank you @angryniall for tagging me.

 Rules: Choose a couple of favourite photos/gifs of your character! Copy and paste the questions down below! Answer as if you’re the character that’s been tagged! Then tag some characters/authors you would love to see answer next! (BTW, you’re also allowed to tag an author again if they have more than one character you want to answer these questions!)  

1. If it’s 1 am and you’re still awake and wanting to talk to someone, who do you call and what do you talk about? There are only three people in my life who will not throw a fit if I call them that late and they are Niall Horan, Keith Miller, and my little brother Alex. Niall asks about his plants and tries to solve all my life problems. Keith tells me about his night out and we gossip about our latest reality show binges. Alex talks about family drama and the latest bird he’s trying to date. 

The Hen House would lose their shit if I tried calling them that late. 

2. Are you a part of any fandoms? Or at least a big fan of something in particular?

COYS! Tottenham Spurs and English football hold a very special place in my heart. The boys talk a lot of shit but I think they appreciate my love for football. 

Kinda love plants and flowers… A LOT. The Plant Club meets every Tuesday night at Niall’s. We have three members – if you count Scout.

I guess I am also the Co-President of the Unofficial Niall Horan Fan Club, which is really just the Hen House WhatsApp group. We love The Baby a bit too much.

I’d also like to point out that each member our gang has their own fan club but the leader of each club rotates because we are that extra.  

3. Are you the big spoon or little spoon?

Big spoon for Britt, little spoon for Ni.

 4. If your mum was to text you right now, how would that make you feel?

Happy. I miss that woman dearly. She’s planning a trip for her and Dad to come visit and I can’t wait. 

5. Have you ever been in love? Why/why not? 

Love is the weirdest thing. It gets you when you least expect it. I didn’t believe in it for the longest time but then Niall Horan came in and changed everything.

When you’re young, you think it’s love but it’s not. Love is waking up on Sunday morning to a hungover man cooking you French toast because you mentioned it before you passed out in his armchair. Love is sending food to the office when you’ve had a shit day and calling incessantly to make sure it was good enough. Love is rearranging your tour schedule so you’ll be home for your best friend’s birthday. Love is a lot of things and I’m thankful I’m with someone who is willing to help me experience that.

6. Can you be trusted with a secret?

I’ve dated an international superstar for half a year and didn’t tell a soul. Pretty good at this whole secret game. 

7. Who was your childhood best friend? Are you still friends? 

Brittany Fletcher and David Watson. I’m currently sat on their couch crying from laughter because David wasn’t listening to Brittany’s work story and is now in the dog house for not having the proper response to ‘How Big of a Bitch is Jessica from Payroll?’ He’s begging for forgiveness and it’s amusing. 

When will this man learn? 

8. What are three songs currently on your everyday playlist? 

Truth Hurts by Lizzo 

Back Again by You Me At Six 

Ghost by Ella Henderson 

9. What is your secret talent? 

I’m trained in Brazilian jiu jitsu. I also always know where the car is parked when we go to Disneyland. 

10. Have you pictured your future? If so, what does it look like?

It is full of love, laughter, and the Irish man child who stole my heart.

I tag: Nina @beautifulletdownfics and Rolly @marisa-writes

#pints and plants #georgina ferguson #1dff

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integrationslady · 5 years

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FMLS90 Week 3 Challenge

Develop a workout schedule for the rest of the year. Try to focus on making it realistic. Consider work and personal commitments and schedule time to invest in yourself.

So, realistically, long term schedules don’t work for me. I’ll go in with the best of intentions, and then something will happen and I’ll think (oh I’ll get back on it tomorrow!) and next thing you know it’ll have been three weeks since I even said the word gym and I’ll feel like I need to start all over. So instead of the rest of the year, I’ve made a plan for the rest of this month:

Mon 10/21 - Gym, Lunch, Cardio Tues 10/22 - Gym, AM, Weights Wed 10/23 - Gym, AM, Cardio Thurs 10/24 - Gym or Home, AM, Weights Fri 10/25 - Rest/Halloween Party Sat 10/26 - Rest (probably hungover, tbh) Sun 10/27 - Home, AM, Yoga Mon 10/28 - Gym, AM, Cardio Tues 10/29 - Gym or Home, AM, Weights Wed 10/30 - Gym, AM, Cardio Thurs 10/31 - Gym or Home, AM, Weights

I’ve been really, really bad about getting up in the mornings. Lately, it’s been easier to wake up early even though I still don’t actually get up. So some, maybe even all, of those AM scheduled workouts might move to PM. For weight days, I’m “letting” myself workout at home since that takes less time (don’t have to walk to and from the gym), I feel like that may help, but we’ll see.

In November, things are up in the air. I’ve got a few birthdays to celebrate, we’re still finalizing our DND schedule, the holidays start, and ski season is likely to open up the day after Thanksgiving (weather depending, of course). I feel like trying to plan now when I have no idea what’s happening when is just bound to fail. But I will try to get a schedule in place at least weekly.

I’ve also decided to finish out the year by challenging myself to do yoga every Sunday. I feel better when I’m consistently stretching, which is the type of yoga I usually do. And it takes like 20 minutes. Even though Sundays are my “me” day, there’s no excuse for not getting that done.

#fmls90 #weekly challenge #exercise schedule

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skinfeeler · 5 years

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meandering diary post, or the melancholic tale of my 24-hour completely onesided romance in the context of the human condition

[[MORE]]

i've been a member of a student organisation for queer people for about half a year now. this means that i hadn't attended an introductory period yet — once an academic year, at the start of it — but that i knew basically everyone who organised it.

after a few days of miscellaneous activities that were mostly 'okay' (minus a drunk fall of my bike at some point) i knew a couple more people. still, it was nothing like the summer camp at the end of it.

the first 90% of the journey was by train. i shared four seats facing each other with three other people, including a girl who was slightly taller and a bit older than me. she had brought a wine bottle and so it happened that the four of us already started drinking at about 15, not even at the camp yet.

we got along though— especially this girl and i. we talked a bunch about the kinds of exercise/sports we like. she was my second round that day in explaining the rules of roller derby, i can do it in about 20 seconds now with the help of the images from the 'basics' section of this article: http://mtlrollerderby.com/the-rules-of-roller-derby/?lang=en w

e also talked about gender a bit. it went all right. we had a later conversation in our bunk that day where we really bonded, about trauma too and all that stuff.

"we have a bond, i think."

that was later though, for now i was still on my way. at some point i turned inwards as i sometimes do and during one of the transfers while outside she pulled me away and asked me if i was all right. i explained that i just have a few issues and that sometimes they played up. she gave me the big scarf she was wearing and told me to put it over my head and narrow my field of vision that way, just kind of hide in it. that that's what she does when she's not well. that was nice of her.

we missed the train-bus connection because we went to the supermarket of the small remote village to buy more wine, but we got picked up by a second bus a bit later.

once at the place i changed into a sexier outfit and instantly felt more confident. this was immediately crushed once people started making (completely benign) jokes about std tests. i started thinking about my own test and the rape that happened before it and just went sit somewhere with a beer bottle to be sad. one of the people who i knew was an organiser but didn't personally know asked me if i was all right and i stood up and tried to ask if we could go outside for a bit, but didn't manage to speak because i was already crying. fortunately he understood the cue. i told him about that i got triggered and he made sure to make it clear to me that the committee would do its best to look after me if i allowed him to tell that sometimes i get like this, with them not having to know what exactly. i took him up on the offer, and it helped that subsequently an organiser would occasionally come to me when i lost my vibe, which was quite often.

but in that moment just knowing people actually take it seriously was enough, and i told him that the best thing now would probably just be to rejoin the party and chug my beer, and so we returned inside and so i did.

a while later i lost a good portion of my energy again. in a fateful moment, i decided to go back to my room which i shared with others. my new friend was talking about speed with another girl, who ended up giving it to us.

"i'm done with this crap. you can have it if you want to."

i don't have the required associations to procure anything like this myself, so i thought i'd not pass up on the opportunity.

the four of us went back downstairs.

first i was cold, tired, and dull. now i possessed immense warmth, energy, and clarity, almost immediately.

i asked my friend if this is about what i should be feeling. she told me it was, but also immediately switched to her more caring tone and that i should be careful.

"if you ever want to try something, you can always do it at my place."

sounds like a fucked up bid to get me in a vulnerable situation, but given the context and her general conduct i am certain she really was just caring about me in a slightly dark way.

there were drinking games that we played in teams, in most of them chugging alcohol fast combined with skills of physical dexterity was determinant. in my current state, i was absurdly good at both on top of my usual degree of mastery and won us the tournament. it was nice to get cheered on lots— it was cool to be in a parallel dimension where suddenly the skills i had were brought up a number of times in the days after.

i had a great night. i hadn't been (that) happy in months. every moment my body was bursting with energy. i love dancing, and i especially love dancing when weird fellow mental cases who have taken it upon themselves for reasons i don't understand grasp both my hands, pull me in, and keep me very close to them. later we sat on a couch and i leaned against her and it was very nice. every time i asked her if she was uncomfortable she pet my head for a bit, so obviously i was instantly in love.

alcohol disables your mental safeguards and this can backfire. cigarettes just make you slow. speed simply solved every problem instantly.

we danced until 0400. after that we were offered a joint by someone and we passed that around in a circle so we could sleep better. it worked very well, but by the time we went to bed, it was simply almost time to get up, and they don't fuck around with schedule at student camps.

i woke up in agony because the day before i went on camp i had a really intense derby training, and when i dance, i really love to bring my hips into it. everything between my waist and knees was searing, burning, i had to stretch and massage until i took the edge off enough that i could convince myself that i wasn't injured. the night before i hadn't felt anything at all. obviously i was also more hungover than ever before, but like, whatever. because i value a varied diet and a rigorous exercise routine, i decided to take it easy from thereon, only start drinking in the evening, et cetera. i was already going to skip sunday training for this, and additionally there are a few resistance training goals that i want to meet in the near future.

these three felt otherwise. they would go on to drink all day. it was very difficult to talk to any of them, although they seemed to be having fun though. i was kind of bothered that i couldn't talk to this girl meaningfully at all anymore at some point, so during that day and the last day of camp i kind of stopped feeling something for her entirely, which was very odd, completely unlike how it usually goes for me.

we played some games, including a quiz. my team won the quiz, but not the other game.

that night most of my acquaintances were absent for the first part. the sweet autistic metalhead i met earlier had gone to her one-person bedroom to decompress, the three from the start were apparently on a walk that i couldn't safely participate in, the others were fuck knows where. i was in a really, really bad mood. i knew that speed would solve all my problems, allow me to join the dance party going on. instead i wasted away on a couch for a while.

then there was dinner, and then an awards show. two games won (the beer game counted) meant i was called in front twice and won a shot of hard liquor as a price, thus twice in a row. very convenient for my fealty to fitness, but at least nice.

afterwards, a number of friends were periodically back on the dance floor in shifts, and the shots were doing their job. the nice thing about shots is that they mean you don't constantly have to piss as with beer, so they made a nice base for the rest of my consumption that night.

i found my new favorite pop song dancing with the girl who i have a particular unbreakable fealty to— that resultant from me breaking down in her arms about a girl not liking me back earlier that year lol

that girl would eventually do some things to me that would present one of the main causes of me at times completely turning inwards and become unable to talk to people, simply looking on and knowing my humanity has been taken away from me by many people.

but right there, dancing, knowing i was surrounded by people who care about me even if i am nothing like then, i was doing just fine, despite having quietly had a mental breakdown on that couch where everything at once played up.

eventually the music selection turned to shit and i decided to do the smart thing and have six hours of sleep instead of two. some sweet angels made sure to coax me into drinking lots of water.

"you'll be grateful in the morning."

a decent night, minus the transmisogynist components of some sketch one of the members of the previous committee did. i'll talk to her about it soon and i'm confident she'll understand how it was hurtful— i had a drunk conversation with two other girls in the restroom about it and they were fully behind me and encouraged me to do this.

the next morning almost everyone was still drinking, despite the fact that most of the day we would just spend in a bus bringing us back from the middle of nowhere.

at some point i sat down on a couch and for the first time in days, took out my ear buds and listened to some music i like.

it was cathartic and i had a particular kind of realisation.

i had spent an entire alcohol getting fucked up to music i could only tolerate there and then, under bright lights and with accompanying alcohol. drinking the kind of alcohol i don't like drinking because it's what was available, hanging out mostly with people with whom i have very little in common. in general, kind of losing myself.

i knew what i needed to do, what i can do soon. all i need to do is get out of this house to a better place, get my painting station set up, keep being involved in the roller derby, and maybe somewhere along the lines i would figure stuff out for myself.

of course, there are certain social circumstances that need to happen to me too, but i certainly can't do that while inert.

i had skipped the derby's general member's meeting on friday. it was the only one of the year, and i really wanted to attend. they were discussing attendance policies, and i feel i could've really learned a lot about the members of the league from that. debates about derby as its own reward and assuming the inherent joy of cooperation versus a dedication to structured sustained development and competitivity, or any of the ways one could frame that.

i had missed a training, when i had immediate short-term goals that i could have fulfilled that training.

the other rookies like me, and so does the trainer. not because of my ability to chug alcohol really fast — although i intend to impress them at the party we apparently have soon — but because of my dedictation, fervor, and general attitude.

maybe there is a common source to the fact that i can dance better than i can talk and that i feel i'm more meaningfully together with people when i'm on wheels than when i'm not, generally speaking at least.

it feels like there's a rift between me and the rest of humanity, but a little less on the track than most other places.

but then speed also helps.

it helps everything. it makes me feel happy.

but i know i can't actually take this as often as i would need without fucking myself up. still, on our way back, alienated and exhausted, i was constantly craving it.

when we got out of the bus and a people hugged me goodbye, i did meditate for a bit on the fact that i did create many new bonds. maybe i'll get more out of them than i felt by the last day, but it's complicated.

and now i'm at friends who fed me and gave me weed to finally fucking calm down. it's all right.

i miss my friends in london who i feel separated from only by distance.

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humanitysteeped-blog · 7 years

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Party Down:

One of the cons of being an ambitious twenty-something these days is the non- stop emotional constipation. For weeks at a time you put inordinate amounts of energy towards the things you prioritize-Work, health, being social, and hygiene. The journey to self actualizing is often misguided and forced. You gotta get to where you want to be as soon as possible so you can then rest. Some people call this the rat race, some call it “the man.” (Honestly what’s more withholding and full of unrealistic expectations than a man? Can I get an amen, girls?) The problem with this is the inevitable diarrhea of your emotions. Your head eventually will need to take a dump and almost always… alcohol is involved. Or at least it was for me this particular weekend. I partied and then partied down. If you’re like me, you fill your schedule and then some -you tend to put actual health on the back burner. Things like self reflection, properly confronting emotional conflict and resolving issues that cause you stress. We say going to the gym relieves stress but in all actuality it’ll never be as efficient as emotional regulation and psychological exercise. Especially if you’re a gay guy with years of practice at emotional repression and a thousand other psychological defense mechanisms. Our nervous systems are shot. True to form one particular Saturday after having given up me weekend off to work a morning shift at my store I was driving home slightly overwhelmed and drained. I should have seen the signs as I scrolled through Spotify looking for high powered party themes instead of my usual Stevie Wonder/ Elton John commute playlist. Halfway through a popular Justin Timberlake song I had already formulated my well thought-out Saturday evening plan and also true to form - at 6pm I was in front of my best girlfriends house dressed to the nines ready to have the type of night most girls live for. This was my brain preparing for its bowel movement that consisted of 7 months worth of ignored emotional build up. Dressed to impress and ready laugh we made our way up to The Bulldog on Magazine which had always been one of my favorite spots. My friend and companion for the evening (we’ll call her Mrs Aussie, for personal reasons) used the drive time to fill me in on her personal life. As if my brain had somehow signaled to her what our mood was going to be she wove me a tale that was stuffed with emotional constipation. Her boyfriend and her had fought a few days before over something seemingly simple yet she was questioning the future of their relationship. See, when you just go and go the small things you ignore become serious threats to your happiness. An emotionally repressed mind is a dramatic one by default. This was my perfect distraction because I love people’s stories. It also kept the conversation lively. We talked all night at The Bulldog before heading to Superior Grill for margaritas at 10pm. Our conversation was deep and hilarious because it’s me. We laughed a lot. We complained about how dumb guys are and ultimately made the age-old superficial promise to grow old together. Continued repression and interpersonal dishonesty is fantastic for keeping on a straight face. Because we both knew that our fulfillment would eventually come from one day shacking up with a guy who would be our best buds with whom we would establish mutual respect and trust with. Sometimes we need to lie to ourselves about the things that will really make us happy in order to protect ourselves from being hurt. By 10:30 we were finally filled and boozed and ready to catch a ride to a birthday event for our former co worker. It was during this trip that I felt it. I knew the big shit was coming. Alcohol has a way of loosening you up in more ways than one. Mrs Aussie in all her Downtown girl glory complained about my Uptown Boy taste in music so we switched genres which helped me stave off the unavoidable outpour. It’s funny how something as simple as music can be a comfort zone that, when changed, can help you in your endeavor to push back any type of personal progress. A long car ride and ten dollars at the jukebox later… I was fired up on tequila and corona and thoroughly enjoying the birthday event for one of the most incredible lesbians I know. (As if they aren’t all incredible.) The party was obviously great and there was plenty of laughter which is a requirement for me to want to stay out past 11pm other than a solid make out session. By 1am I was done. I’d played out and laughed all my energy away. I’d released any angst and obstinance that had fueled the last years drive towards my goal of being amazing and seemingly well grounded and also of being the next of my cousins to open their own restaurant and/or bar in the city. My composure was absolutely slipping in the smoke filled atmosphere of a small Northshore billiard bar. I had played Sweet Painted Lady by Elton John and this song usually triggers me. I started thinking about things I hadn’t give a nod to as of yet. I thought about the boyfriend who had cheated on me five years ago and how that changed me. I thought about the fact that I was engaged to a guy I wasn’t very attracted to and then left him eight month earlier and how I never really had cried about it. I thought about my own growth and how even though I let things go when I can’t control them-they still hurt. All the these thing that I used to define myself as strong and well grounded were the things that had made me an emotional train wreck who never really gave anyone two minutes of seeing me as just regular ole Pepperoni. All of this started to creep in my head and I felt that weird clamping at the back of my throat. “Well shit, I think I’m gonna cry.” Mrs Aussie of course went into full fledged best friend mode and started telling me about how handsome and worth it I would be for any guy as if somehow I was going to be crying over any man in public. If I cry in over a boy it’ll prob be in the shower a year after we parted ways. That’s just me. I wanted to explain to her it wasn’t about anyone but me and who I’d become and who I had been and who I wanted to be. It wasn’t altogether negative, it’s was just the natural release of emotional thoughts and calculations that I’d been saving and needed to let out. So I ditched. Fully sober at this point I drove home and put my comfort music back on as I did. I was ready. I knew what was coming and I had my gym towel in the bag on my passenger seat. I was partying down. And so, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I pulled up to my house, parked and cried like a baby for 30 minutes. It did not feel good. My head was pounding and I knew the next day I’d be hungover as well and emotionally toasted. But here’s the thing, I got my head straight about a lot of things. Not all of it, but a lot. And I didn’t feel as stressed or upset. And that’s important. Letting it out is important. Society tells us a man shouldn’t do this. That’s why alcoholism and violence are so common for guys…no skills involving emotional regulation. Essentially men are children wether it’s crying, barfights, or the silent treatment- guys aren’t very developed in the area of working that emotion muscle out. That’s a problem today because I feel like the only way to develop fulfilling connections with people is by being able to engage in healthy adult communication and being emotional intimate or vulnerable. I realized this was a fault of mine as well so I cried more and vowed that no matter how weird it may make me seem, I would be open and willing to be vulnerable with people….so I didn’t have to ever take another emotional shit like this again. But also because I want to slow down and enjoy my life and maybe one day share it with someone in a very real and quiet way. Isn’t that what we all want? So here I am starting over sort of. Ready to tackle this coming week with ferocity and stillness of mind. Openness of heart. To be honest I’ll probably do this twice more this year. I’m a slow learner.

“The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday, that’s guaranteed. And I can’t begin to explain that- or the craziness inside myself and everybdy else,but guess what? Sunday is my favorite day again” -Mathew Quick

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anoverwhelmingloser · 7 years

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Come To

We were supposed to be each other’s firsts. It was a promise made on a Saturday morning in November, after the first night we’d spent together. “When we’re both ready,” she whispered. Her feet were so cold pressing into my shins and I could taste the stale acidity of my mouth fermenting, but we lay still, intertwined like strings of Christmas lights. Her breath shuddered against my neck as she gave over the weight of her skull to my chest. Eventually, she sat up and rubbed her left shoulder, looking out the window at the snow tumbling down in sloppy sheets. We kissed, gently – her lips crisp with the taste of peppermint chapstick – and she said she felt most like herself in my arms. I was jacking off when I found out that she died in late August. Classes were starting in a week, and I was already back at school, but Diana was supposed to stay in Seattle a few more days for her brother’s wedding. Her mom Carol told me hysterically over the phone that Diana was setting up for her band’s rehearsal in the hotel ballroom for the reception and she accidentally stuck her finger in the electrical socket. By the time they got her to the emergency room she was gone. Carol invited me to stay with them for the funeral – it would be on Monday – but she understood if I didn't have it in me to come. A sick tragedy, she muttered; her angel was gone. Before she could hang up, I was dry heaving, leaning over my toilet with blue balls. “Freak accident, I'm so sorry man,” someone said with a hand on my knee, and then another someone with a green sock hat nodded in agreement, and then another someone in a pair of clean white overalls said that I needed a drink. My roommates had planned a party; they offered to cancel, but it seemed too hard to have to tell all of my marginal acquaintances over text what happened. They found out anyway, obviously. I thought about leaving the apartment once everyone was crowding my couch, but there wasn't another bed to fall onto and a pile of limbs to collapse into anymore. I clung to a bottle of tequila instead. Frankie’s drum kit, which lived in the common space, was suddenly and violently attacked by someone who was not Frankie; angry heat washed over me. Conversations about disappointing class schedules and monotonous summer jobs and grueling apartment hunts grew loud and harsh in my ear – the combined effect of the uninvited jam session and the alcohol. Soon, people were standing in various formations above me, creating a poorly designed skyline of bobbing heads and plastic cups. My eyes felt smoky, unblinking. I hadn’t gotten drunk in a long time, and the sourness in my stomach twisted into knots. Joanna, Bradley’s girlfriend, handed me a plate of blue corn tortilla chips and store bought guacamole, “You should eat something.” I took the plate, faking appreciation, but I didn't want to engage. Instead, I got up to pee. Joshua and Eden and Tall Alex were squeezed into the tiny hallway, taking shots. As soon as they saw me coming, they stopped laughing and pushed themselves against the walls, parting the way with sorry eyes. Eden grabbed my hand and pitifully smiled. Once I was in our shoebox bathroom, I looked at myself for the first time since the phone call. But my eyes couldn't focus on my reflection – partly because the mirror hadn't been cleaned since we moved back in, but mostly because I was a walking hologram of leaking light. My skin felt dried out, like after a day in the ocean, but cloudier. I splashed water on my feverish cheeks and ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to feel the plaque that was undoubtedly there. Someone knocked before I could get to the mouthwash. “Hey, you almost done in there? I’m gonna piss myself.” An unfamiliar voice shot through my daze. I opened the door to a short girl with firecracker hair, curly and untamed. She looked up from her cup and huffed past me. A breeze of cinnamon sweat and lavender deodorant lingered. I could hear her unzipping her jeans; I tried not to remember the effortless, full swing of her hips. Diana’s frame was so small, I was always afraid I’d somehow break her, even when we were just making out. I used to look forward to the day she would say she was ready, but seeing hickeys on her tender neck for weeks at a time, I feared the bruises I could leave all over her fragile body. “Henry, do you wanna come over and help me move the furniture on Friday?” Diana winked. That was the euphemism we’d agreed upon from a list of 400 we’d found online the morning of the promise; it was the least offensive, she said, and also the dumbest. I was just glad to not be in a fight so I eagerly agreed to the date, our first in a long time, and kissed her on the forehead. “This will be really good for us.” My distorted silhouette quivered in her heavy eyes when I told her I loved her. Walking home, I felt like I was sailing; it was perfect timing because we’d both be leaving Boston for the summer, and each other, in just a few days. But the entire week I couldn’t focus on my finals, or get myself to pack, or even enjoy the thick sun of May afternoons. I woke up from a dream soaked in my own sweat on Thursday morning; Diana and I were having sex in the top of Big Ben tower (she was planning on studying abroad in London second semester of junior year), and somehow she fell the 315 feet into nothingness. When I told her, I think she laughed, but the simulated guilt lingered. I had a panic attack Friday during my linguistics final and spent the rest of the night in the ER. She brought wilting deli flowers and didn’t talk much. We cuddled in the hospital bed until she had to leave for the airport. “Do you live here?” The redheaded girl was closing the bathroom door as the gurgling toilet settled into silence. “Because your bathroom is disgusting.” “Oh, sorry about that … Hey, um, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here? Who are you with?” “I’m Polly, friends with Alex. He dragged me here.” Her deep-cut black blouse exposed her collarbone, goosebumped. “Okay. Cool. Well, are you having a good night?” “Not really. Not drunk enough to deal with everyone, you know? I hate feeling that way – when you’re just too conscious of how everyone is acting and how you’re supposed to be acting and you’re not acting that way.” “Yeah, that’s rough.” “Oh, wait. Fuck, I feel like an asshole. You were with Diana.” She looked like she was on the verge of tears and I could almost make out my reflection in her soft, watery eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know her that well, but she seemed like a sweetheart. We always ran into each other at Pavement on Sunday mornings. I was always hungover, in desperate need of coffee, and she would be deep into some huge novel or scribbling in a notebook. Anyway, I’m sorry for your loss.” “Yeah. Thanks.” A bead of sweat dribbled down my back and I suddenly realized how close I was standing to Polly’s full, rosy cheeks. “Sorry, I, um, gotta – I’ll see you around.” I slammed my bedroom door shut, locking it behind me. I wanted to remember the way she was mindlessly braiding her hair when I served her that first almond latte on a fall morning, the dimpled smile she gave back; but her face was 3,000 miles away. For the rest of the night, I tortured myself by saying over and over, “Diana is dead.” I tried to whisper it to her spirit which was surely watching me with contempt, I tried screaming it at the photo of us in ugly Christmas sweaters (her on my lap, kissing my cheek) situated triumphantly upon my bedside table, but it was all in vain; it had been 16 hours since I’d heard that my girlfriend Diana Maeve Russell was electrocuted to death and I couldn’t find it in me to cry. When I woke up, my head felt like a sponge, entirely saturated, begging to be wrung out. It was 2 pm. The last time I'd felt the bite of a hangover gnawing on every nerve ending seemed so long ago; in April, after Frankie’s band, Born Tourists, played its first show, we all went bar hopping. Diana woke me up with incessant door banging after a meager two hours of sleep. “Where have you been? You just decided to turn your phone off all night?” Her face was twisted into a streaky blur of mascara and snot, furiously dribbling down her chin. “Oh, it died I guess. Just went out after the show, you said you didn’t want to go. Figured you were asleep.” “I had a really shitty day. I called you like fifteen times. Why’d you stay out so fucking late, you know I hate when you’re drunk.” Her arms folded across her heaving chest. “Diana -” “You didn’t even think about me all night while you were out taking shots and flirting with the sluts at Dugout.” “What? Flirting? Diana, It was just Josh and Frankie and Bradley and Joanna and Mary, no one you don’t know. I don’t want to flirt with anyone, I don’t need to.” I was an all over ache; percussion in my head. “I wish you trusted me.” “Well you make it really fucking hard, Henry.” She wiped her nose, fired her bullet eyes, and charged for the door. “Thanks so much for that heartfelt apology. Your concern is overwhelming.” We made up a few days later, but the sting never quite dissolved. I stopped drinking mostly. It was all pins and needles with Diana, yet I felt an obligation to always be by her side. We never got to have our special night, so things felt very uncertain when I flew home. I thought summer would be a relief, but the distance just sent us into a chaotic spiral of passive hatred. Most of my days in Dallas were spent on the phone arguing about my relationship with Zoey, my high school best friend; Diana was paranoid that I had feelings for her. It got so bad that I had to stop hanging out with her after work. “It would just make me feel more secure in our relationship. I need to know that I matter to you,” Di whined over FaceTime. We were fighting almost every night and I was desperate to make things work, so I spent all my birthday money on a flight to Seattle at the end of July. It was a quick weekend trip, and she was happy to see me; we held hands and walked through Pike Place Market and kissed at the top of the Space Needle and drank coffee from the original Starbucks. Saturday night, we cooked dinner together for her family – fresh Chilean Sea Bass and risotto and green beans and lots of wine. Diana liked casual drinking, as long as the intention wasn’t to get drunk; but that night she got plastered. She laughed, and danced, and splashed me as we did the dishes, and wrestled her little brother to the ground, and slid down the long hallways in socks, and kissed me endlessly. I recognized the shirt Diana wore from the Sunday morning we first met. We lay on her lemon yellow duvet, overcrowded with pillows. The pink and white striped walls looked like the inside of a candy store, and they were covered with doodles and notes from her childhood friends. I looked up at the blue moon-shaped lights hanging from the bed frame, and past Diana’s blonde ponytail thrown from side to side as she brushed her lips against my neck; an array of picture frames was arranged on the white shelf, staring at me. I saw Diana and Shannon Carmichael, her childhood best friend, wrapped in each other’s tiny arms, wearing matching witch hats and face paint; I saw Dylan Truscott posed awkwardly around Diana in an ill-fitting tux at junior prom; I saw Samantha, Diana’s freshman year roommate on move-in day, I even saw Joanna and Bradley, front row at a concert over the summer. But on the entire wall, I couldn’t find a single picture of the two of us. “Henry? Can we…?” She was reaching for my belt, determination in her eyes. “You had a lot of wine, Di.” “So? You did too.” “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not like this.” “But I want to.” Her swollen, hopeful face steered into mine; I grasped her shoulders. “Don’t you want to remember your first time?” “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m tired of acting like it’s so special when everyone else has been doing it since we were in eighth grade.” “You don’t want it to be special? Then what am I here for? Let’s just get some loser from Tinder over here. I bet he’ll fuck your brains out.” “Jesus, Henry, what is wrong with you?” “I don’t matter to you.” “What? Why would you be here in my bed with me if you didn’t matter?” “You don’t show it.” “Henry, you never even touch me. You hate PDA, you don’t want to have sex. Are you not attracted to me anymore?” “Are you fucking kidding me Diana? I’m just trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to protect you.” “I don’t need you to protect me. I can make my own decisions.” “But you’re drunk. Tonight isn’t the right night, Di. Let’s go to sleep.” “When is it going to be the right time? You keep doing this to me. I’m trying to share a moment with you and you don’t seem to want anything to do with it. So honestly, tell me, do you not love me anymore?” “Diana, I can’t do this, seriously, why can’t you just believe in me?” She inhaled sharply, her bottom lip taut. She climbed off of me and straightened her shirt. “You're impossible.” I tossed and turned in the starchy guest room sheets all night; Diana locked me out of her room, but I could hear her sobbing through the walls. In the morning, we had a polite cup of coffee with her parents before leaving for my flight. I thanked them for hosting me. She drove and didn't speak; our stubborn silence screamed over the car radio. We hugged goodbye outside of the baggage drop-off, but I couldn’t feel her breath on my neck or her heartbeat against my chest. She was as distant from me then, in my arms on a gray Sunday morning, as she would soon become; her body still, not yet with death, but with the weak knees of defeat. “We’re going midnight bowling. Come.” Eden and Mary were peeking through the door to my bedroom, smiling warily. I told myself I wouldn’t go out, I told myself to do what you’re supposed to do when you lose someone who matters to you. I looked at our old texts and Facebook posts, trying to miss her. Carol, and Diana’s dad Mike, and her brother Evan, and Shannon Carmichael, and 306 of her other friends had posted photos and messages on her wall: “The most loving, caring, beautiful daughter I could have ever asked for. Rest in Peace, Diana;” “Di, you were with me through everything, I know your kind, generous spirit is in heaven;” “I love and miss you already sweet girl xoxo.” I slammed my computer shut and punched the pile of pillows at the edge of my unmade bed. I was desperate to feel something, but the arresting smell of pot drifted into my room and suddenly the plan to grieve in the house alone all night became very hazy. All I wanted was to get incredibly fucked up and I felt very little remorse about it. Before we even left, I took eight shots and smoked a bowl in spite of my friends’ apprehensive glances. Frankie drove us to Lucky Strike, which was more crowded than I’d ever seen it. I saw people from my freshman year writing seminar, guys I’d played in intramural soccer, some girls in the band that opened for Born Tourists, all sneaking sips from flasks while waiting in line for a pair of disinfected clown shoes. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and the decision to walk past vaguely familiar faces was liberating. Everyone seemed afraid to talk to me, even friends; they couldn’t decide on the right thing to say, so they kept their distance. The bubble surrounding me instilled a profound confidence in me, defiance even, so I found Drew in the bathroom and did a line of coke. “On the house,” he said, since it was my first time. It burned my nose, but once I emerged from the row of grimy lockers and sweaty towel baskets, I looked at the electric screens above the purple flashing footlights lining the shiny lanes. My nerves quieted as the lights flooded me with warmth; the bass of the dance music pulsated in my skull. I stepped on some scattered, smashed M&M’s, leaving tiny drops of colorful, melted chocolate in the stained carpet. The disco ball glimmered over a bald man with rotting teeth walking past with a mop. The door to outside was wide open, letting in the muggy night and cigarette smoke. I had an urgent need to be surrounded by laughing mouths, but I couldn’t find any that I recognized. The party I had come to was gone; these were just faceless phantoms throwing big bubblegum balls. My skin all of a sudden felt so disconnected; a dying battery. I thought bowling would be too sobering, and I didn’t want to lose the little spark left in me, so I sat near the bar and watched a group of ornery old men play pool. “Henry? Are you okay?” Polly was standing there, her arm pressing into my chair, her fingers on my shoulder. I realized I was collapsed over the table, like a pile of dirty clothes; I straightened up at her touch. “Can I get you some water?” “I’m good, really, so good. How’s your night? You can sit. If you want.” “How are you holding up? Was today any better?” I met her silk eyes. Her usual wild curls were pacified tonight. “Today blows. I’m tired of feeling sick to my stomach. I just want it to be over.” “Are you going to the funeral? Maybe that’ll help. Closure, or whatever.” She started playing with the scraps of napkin left on the table. “I haven’t decided. Don’t really wanna. I don’t want to have to think about her anymore. She’s like a never-ending fever. Even dead, she’s plaguing me.” She shifted in her seat, wrapping her hands around mine; trying to pry me open. My head detached from my body; a balloon, threatening to pop at any second. “Can I tell you something really awful? Part of me was relieved when I heard.” “Henry, you don’t mean that. You’re fucked up.” “Diana would hate me so much for tonight. Jesus. So pure and beautiful and full of hate.” ��Woah.” “I know, I know, I sound like an awful person. But she wasn’t the picture of perfection that everyone makes her out to be. I was terrified of how much pain we could cause each other.” “You’re allowed to feel weird and conflicted. If you weren’t happy, you weren’t happy. It was an insane, tragic accident, but that doesn’t mean you have to mythologize her or pretend for anyone.” Polly ran her fingers through her hair, splitting it into three sections, and began twisting them around each other. A braid rippling along the arch of her neck. The morning light hitting her delicate shoulders just so. Her ink-stained fingers clutching the mossy green mug. The scrap of paper left on the table with 10 numbers and a tiny heart. My heart suddenly plunged itself into the crashing waves of my chest; drowning, breathless. “I think you’re beautiful. I know it’s fucked up – really just shit timing – but I can’t help it, that’s how I feel.” My rollercoaster lips collided into hers. Magnetic scarlet light enveloped the bowling alley. But her lips didn’t taste like sweet mint candy; they didn’t taste like anything at all. I felt the glow of the kiss sink into rainy nothingness as puddles fell from my lashes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I pulled away into dizziness, I couldn’t see through my tears. But I ran out of the bowling alley and all the way home despite the ache in my chest. I frantically threw sweatshirts and underwear and toothpaste in my suitcase, and I could feel my head going fuzzy as I came down. But the clarity of Diana’s diamond-shaped face and the velvety blush of her cheeks and the fullness of her wildflower lips cut through the haze. Before I even realized what I was doing, I was at the airport, buying a ticket for the 5:35 am flight out. I knew I needed to be there. Carol and Mike were waiting for me in Seattle, exhaustion weighing down their shoulders, but we shared a sober hug in the foyer of the house. “We’re glad you’re here, Henry. Diana would’ve wanted that.” After lunch, where I nibbled on a turkey sandwich, they let me have some time alone in her bedroom; untouched, messy, the way she left it. Her bedding was different than I remembered, but her sheets smelled like her shampoo and her detergent and her breath. The orchid-colored dress she was going to wear to the wedding was hanging on her closet door. I noticed a new picture had been added to the shelf, next to the prom photo. It was my silhouette, sunny and unassuming, looking out at the calm Elliott Bay waterfront on that hot July afternoon. I hadn’t really stopped crying since I left Boston, but now the tears spilled anew. I carefully took the photo out of the frame and noticed that it had only been printed about eight days ago. In purple pen, Diana had written on the back, “Henry – my loving and frustrating and stubborn and divine boy – forever my first.” I wore my only suit to the funeral and sat next to her brothers. It was a closed casket, but it didn’t bother me. Somehow, in knowing her memory of us, I found the strength to let her go. I threw a handful of dirt into the ground where she would lay and thought of her body which I had been so lucky to hold; I didn’t cry anymore. Strangers hugged me and told me how sorry they were for my loss. I slept in her bed the night before I left, soaking up the last bits of her. At the airport, I bought a pack of peppermint gum and chewed the whole thing on the seven hour flight. I landed in Boston and spit it out.

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lesbianlametron · 7 years

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Bokuroo Week Day 3

Prompt: Moon and Stars

Title: My Universe is Empty Without You

Rating: T

Summary: Time has a way of changing relationships. It can tear them apart, but it can also mend them back together. Then there are those relationships that can transcend time. Even though they both change, their relationship is always the same.

Inspired by “Home is Such a Lonely Place Without You” by Blink 182

“I feel like the moon is spinning into outer space without you.

The universe, an empty place without you.

I wish that we could save today

But I know we can’t stay the same

And I keep pushing you away

Don’t wait for me.”

The days were bearable, there were plenty of things he could distract himself with like his job and his workout schedule, but the nights were impossible. He could drink and go out with his friends to dull the pain, but during a work week, it wasn’t the best idea. There were only so many shows or movies he could binge watch on Netflix. Especially when he rooted out “their shows”. Sometimes he would just have to deal with the loneliness. It hurt him like a wound, whose stitches refused to stay closed, and left a need, a longing that nothing could fill. Not binge eating, not drinking, not sleeping, or even running until he couldn’t breathe. There was an empty hole in his heart that was exactly Kuroo-shaped.

He saw Kuroo everywhere. At their favorite coffee place or the brunch place where they spent most of their hungover Sunday mornings, and in the park where they would for lunch on nice afternoons. Especially, he saw Kuroo in their shared apartment. When he closed his eyes, he could still see Kuroo cooking breakfast in the mornings, humming to himself as he did. There was a Kuroo shaped dent in the couch from many hours when they were too lazy on the weekends to go out and do anything at all. He didn’t dare go into Kuroo’s home office because that had Kuroo’s scent all over it. His musky, slightly fruity cologne clung to everything in there, the keyboards, the mouse pad, and even the microphone on his headset. It hurt Bokuto’s heart to even step foot in there.

Tonight, was the same as all the nights had been since Kuroo had left. Bokuto was in agony. The phone calls and skype sessions helped, but it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t cuddle with his phone or his computer. He couldn’t feel Kuroo’s warmth or his soft lips against his skin. The calls got few and few as the years dragged on until they stopped all together. The longer he stayed in the apartment, the lonelier he felt. He sighed and shoved his feet into his shoes and went for a walk. He wasn’t purposefully trying to go anywhere. He just listened to his music and let his feet guide him. It wasn’t a surprise that he ended up at park. He remembered the hours they used to spend here as kids.

“I’m going to get out of here Bo. I’m going to see the world.”

“Not without me, you’re not!”

Young Kuroo, with his even crazier hair had looked at him with wild, excited eyes. “Of course not! You’ll always be by my side. We’re best friends, remember? That means to the end.”

Bokuto shook his head and sat on top of their hill. But you did, you got your dream, but you just didn’t live it with me. You said you’d come back when you were satisfied, when you had seen all you wanted to, but you didn’t. I still tell people you’re my boyfriend sometimes because it hurts less that way. It hurts less to pretend we never broke up, to pretend you actually had plans to come back.

Bokuto looked up at the stars and the full moon. Sometimes he would get lost in the vastness of space and it would clear his mind. Other times it would only remind him of Kuroo. He would reminisce in the times Kuroo would tell him about the different stars and constellations. Kuroo loved space and all its possibilities. It was times like this that he wondered if Kuroo was out there somewhere looking at the same sky marveling at the trillions of stars with someone else.

Kuroo was a video game designer and a one in a million at that. His games caught on fast and he was a millionaire by the time he was twenty-five. They lived in a simple two-bedroom apartment because Kuroo wanted to conserve his money for traveling. Bokuto lost that dream long ago. Kuroo was thrilled when he started planning all the places they would go and they would see. It was until he about to buy plane tickets that Bokuto spoke up. He wanted to stay in Tokyo and play Volleyball for the national team and maybe the Olympics. He couldn’t afford to travel the world. When Bokuto didn’t defend his thoughts with music, he could still hear their fight in his head. Tetsu, if I knew it would be like this, I would’ve taken it all back. I would have gone with you and it would have been enough just see the joy on your face.

“Tetsu, I’m not going.”

Kuroo was so taken aback that he nearly fell off of his computer chair. “What do you mean? We’ve been talking about this since we were kids. I worked my ass off on the video games. Sure I loved them, but it was all for this.”

“I stopped wanting that dream years ago. I have other things I love now. Remember when we used to love volleyball together?” Bokuto still ranted about his new team and they talked about ways to improve his skills, but Kuroo stopped playing mid-way through college. It put strain on their relationship, but they made it through.

“I still love volleyball, I love watching you play. I know you’re making good money playing too, but you don’t need to. And I thought you wanted to get out of here?” Kuroo looked not only stunned but deeply hurt.

“I want to keep playing for Tokyo. I still love volleyball like your love for seeing new things. I want to qualify for the Olympics next year and I can’t do that travelling with you.”

“Why the fuck are you just bringing this up now?”

Bokuto snapped. He’d been barely responding when Kuroo planned different trips. Hadn’t Kuroo noticed how much he wanted his own dream? “Why the fuck are you just noticing this now?”

“You don’t want this anymore? I always dreamed it would be with you…I guess I can put it off for a while.” Kuroo slowly closed his laptop. He wasn’t angry like Bokuto was, he was just hurt. Maybe he had been a little selfish, but he loved Bokuto. His dream wouldn’t be the same. He wanted to travel, but only really with the love of his life.

“No. You can’t do that. You’ll pretend everything is okay like you always do, but you’ll resent me. I can’t stop you from living your dream just like you can’t stop me. Go and come back to me when you’re done.”

“That’s just it, Babe, I don’t know when I’ll be done.”

Bokuto glared at him. “Then why did you think I’d be okay coming with you? I’m your boyfriend, but I’m not going uproot my whole life for you. I like having a place to call home. I like my life and my friends here. Those were just childhood dreams. I grew up, Tetsu.”

Kuroo gritted his teeth together and crossed his arms, squaring off against Bokuto. “Are you saying my dream is childish?”

“No. I’m saying your lack of consideration for me is. I know you lose yourself when you get excited about things, but come on! I have responsibilities. I know we used to run from those in college, but this isn’t college. I’m going to only have a few year window to qualify for the Olympics. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“I know you do. And I want this just the same.”

“Then go! Go off with all your money and no concern! Maybe I’ll be here when you get back or maybe I won’t.” Bokuto shouted at him and Kuroo immediately shrunk back. Bokuto let his emotions get the best of him again. He let his anger rule his thoughts and said everything he didn’t mean.

“Fine! I don’t need you. I’ll do this on my own. I’m probably better that way. Good luck pulling yourself out of those dumb mood swings of yours. I won’t be there at your games to tell you how awesome you are anymore. Akaashi stopped doing that for you because he has his own life and now I won’t anymore. Do whatever with the rest of my stuff. I’m taking what I need with me. I’m sure you can afford the apartment on your own now.”

Kuroo had packed his bags and slammed the door. That was three years ago and Bokuto hadn’t seen Kuroo since. He had apologized a week later over many voicemails and they started being friends again, but it wasn’t enough.

Bokuto sighed and looked up at the stars again. “I quit volleyball because of you, do you know that? I lost interest. I played for a year after you left, but I didn’t go for the Olympics. It didn’t matter without you, you asshole. Are you out there? Do you still care?!”

“You did?”

Bokuto felt his heart stop and his blood felt like ice in his veins. It didn’t matter how long it had been, he’d know that voice anywhere. He tipped his head back and saw Kuroo’s upside form standing behind him. He quickly righted himself and stood up. “Tetsu?”

Kuroo smiled a weak half-grin and waved. “Hey Bo, it’s been a while, huh?”

“Three years, Testu.”

“Why would you quit volleyball? You loved it more than anything. You were better than any ace in country. That’s why you made the Tokyo team. I used to love seeing the joy on your face when you played. I never once felt that happy over doing anything.”

Bokuto shook his head. “I already told you. Didn’t you just hear me?”

Kuroo stared at him in disbelief. “I drove you away from volleyball…”

“Sort of. I don’t know.” Bokuto looked down and started picking at his fingernails to avoid eye contact with Kuroo. “You were right, without you, no one could pick me up out of my moods.”

A lump formed in Kuroo’s throat and his heart felt heavy in his chest. “I never meant any of that. I was trying to get back you for hurting me.”

“Well, it worked.”

“Bo—”

Whatever Kuroo was about to say, he didn’t want to or was not ready to hear it. “Did you have fun in all your travels? Did you meet some hot international boy to have a fling with? Did you find what you were looking for?” Bokuto painted a smile on his face that he knew Kuroo would see through.

“I did have fun, but no to the other questions.” Kuroo picked up one of the bags on the ground and lightly tossed it at Bokuto’s feet. “Open it.”

Bokuto gave him a strange look, but did as he was told. He gasped when he managed to get the zipper open with shaking hands. It was filled with little trinkets and souvenirs, but they weren’t just any souvenirs. He could tell with one look that each was specifically picked out with him in mind. He had received many gifts from Kuroo in the past and he knew Kuroo’s style of giving. It was one of three types: something that made Kuroo laugh, something that Bokuto would actually use or something stupid that pertained to one of their many adventures together over the years. Bokuto fell to his knees and felt tears pricking the corner of his eyes. No, I won’t cry in front of him! He doesn’t deserve anymore of my tears.

“I was done after two years, but I was afraid to come back. I thought of you everywhere I went. I would see a thing or a place and think ‘Koutarou would love it here or he would love that’. I wanted to come home, but I didn’t know if you’d still care or even want to see me. I left you, and I wasn’t even sure I had any intention of coming back.” Kuroo swallowed and tried to gain the courage to continue. Bokuto’s gaze was even, even in the dark, Kuroo could tell. Bokuto no longer looked at him like he used to. Bokuto was no longer the sun and Kuroo was no longer in his orbit.

“And then when I called you, your life was different. It was the same, but different. You still went to volleyball practice. You still raved about your killer spikes and the serves you were learning from Oikawa, but I wasn’t a part of your life anymore. You moved on without me. Honestly, I wanted to come home the minute I left. But then nothing would have changed. I remembered your words ‘I can’t stop you from living your dream’. I didn’t want to resent you for being the reason I didn’t.”

Bokuto stood up and stepped closer to Kuroo in his anger. “But it was the same with you! Every time you were in a new town, a new country. I always saw new people in the backgrounds of your face time calls. You always looked so happy.” His tone had started off angry, but by the end, he couldn’t stop it from turning sullen and wistful.

“So, did you. I guess we were both putting on show because of our pride, huh?” Kuroo smiled again it was just as forced and awkward as the first. Bokuto still didn’t answer him, but Kuroo had a sad realization that he was right. Bokuto had been hurting just like he had all this time. Kuroo could have tried to get over Bokuto, but he didn’t even try to date when he was abroad. “I went by our—your—place before I came here. I was surprised you didn’t change the locks.” Kuroo held up his key, sheepishly.

“That would have been too much effort.”

Kuroo chuckled a little, but there were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry I caused then end of your volleyball career.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” Bokuto asked suddenly, changing the topic anywhere but volleyball. He didn’t want to talk about that.

“Come on, Kou, I know it’s been a long time, but I used to know you better than anyone. You always come here at night when you can’t sleep. We both did.” Kuroo winced when the words left his mouth because they only caused Bokuto’s shoulders to tense up again.

Bokuto wanted to yell at Kuroo. He wanted scream and tell him how much it hurt to be left behind. He wanted to blame Kuroo for tainting this town with his memory, but he couldn’t. He was tired of fighting, the bigger part of him just wanted to give in. It wanted to collapse into Kuroo’s arms and let Kuroo tell him everything would be all right like he used to. So, for once, he kept quiet.

Kuroo knew they were still hurting and they were a long way from being okay. But if he didn’t try, then coming back would be for naught. “Can I…Can I come home?” Bokuto shook his head and Kuroo’s hope crashed down to Earth like broken rocket. “Well then, I hope you still keep those, they’re every moment I thought of you when I was away. I…I think a part of me will always still love you.” Kuroo picked up the rest of his bags and turned to leave.

“I’m still upset with you.”

“I can tell.”

“And you’re on probation until I can forgive you.”

Kuroo turned around and dropped his bags in surprise. “What?”

“You’re lucky I somehow still love you, but I’m very mad at you.”

Kuroo put a hand over his mouth to cover the sob that escaped his lips. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find ways to do it, I promise.”

“As long as you don’t leave.”

“Not without you.” Bokuto’s lip trembled at that nostalgic sentence and couldn’t stop himself. He ran forward and into Kuroo’s arms. He moved Kuroo’s hand and kissed him on the lips. It was angry, sloppy kiss, but neither of them cared. They were finally, finally home again.

#bokuroo week #bokuroo week 2017 #moon and stars #day 3 #late as always because I suck at deadlines #my writing #angst with a happy ending

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