#hope this is understandable words are hard rn

[joocomics]

guys hi hi do you remember me

okay quick life (and fic) update

but firstly - i’m sorry for my absence you all 🥺 i hope the rest of may was kind to you and that you’re all well and healthy! <3

i’ve been inactive because of some changes that are going on in my life, fortunately they’re positive changes concerning my job and personal life but god forbid i manage to multitask lol 😭 here’s a piece of my lore: every time i encounter a slightly bigger change or i have to just deal with something new and important i hyperfixate on it and neglect everything else 🙂‍↔️ i’m behind on many things including content and messages and asks ah sorry guys i will catch up on everything soon! 😓 anyway, lately i’ve been also trying to focus on replacing some unhealthy habits that i have picked up from the past few months with actually healthy ones because it recently hit me how much they’ve been affecting me especially my productivity… and i don’t want that to reflect negatively on my job. but also, it sucks overall, i was feeling very unmotivated, drained and mentally tired all the time, it got so exhausting. but!! slowly but surely, things are getting better and i’ve been doing really well and most importantly i’m inspired for various things in my life and i haven’t felt like that in a long time 🥹

as for writing, i haven’t given up on any of my wips don’t you worry, but i’m taking things slow. for now, my focus is on getting the finale chapter of double take done, and then finishing love looks good on you and releasing it - hopefully mid june 🤞🏼 i’ve been writing sooo much of it lately guys it’s coming along so nicely i’m proud of myself ngl 😭 cause damn so far that thing is 12k words and i’m not done lol badboy joo my beloved i just can’t get enough of him… i hope you are still looking forward to it, it’s my baby! i’m sorry if it’s taking long, but i believe that’s a good thing cause hopefully that means it would be something fun to read for you 🤎 maybe i should drop a lil sneak peek soon from a random scene? that would be fun i haven’t talked about it in a hot minute ^^

and lastly (i’ll add this to my pinned after i make this post) but my inbox will be closed for hard thoughts for some time. idk for how long but i really want to lock in and get these fics out for you guys. and i know that having hard thoughts coming in will distract me a lot, and i don’t want to neglect your ideas and stuff i hope you understand 🥺 you’re always free to drop by to talk about anything else you’re interested in! it’s just that i won’t be responding and adding onto hard thoughts like i usually do for a while. i am locking in ☝️ I AM FINISHING BOOKSTORE JOO!!! speaking it into existence rn

thank you for the continuous support and for your patience, it’s always always appreciated!! love you besties 🤎 i really hope you’ve been well, and i also hope you have a peaceful night ahead ✨

[enden-k]

OMG HIJIHIHI THIS IS KINDA UNRELATED BUT I HAD A THOUGHT (surprising, I know)

I just realized Im a synthesis of the choices I was robbed off, I was never given the opportunity to develop personality or even preferences. And Im SO protective and dependent on my bf and our relationship because of it. Atp its kinda toxic (working on it, promise🫶) bc I tend to get really mad when he has to make a choice or do something I have no say in, because he’s the only person Ive had any control over all my life (not even myself)

MAYBEEE Just speculating. Maybe Azai felt that was about saran too? He just wanted to have complete control over him, even if (in his head) it was for Sarans own good? And ofc Saran wouldnt conform to that bc he’s actually gotten to make decisions abt himself and knows his individuality.

im not sure its quite the same? altho azai is someone who needs to be in control of things, yes. he also felt protective of saran but not enough to protect saran from himself. saran was no longer worthy of his protection or his mercy

azai admired saran greatly and idolized him to the point he was unsure if he wanted him or wanted to be like him. he made the mistake of applying his idea, his illusion of saran on the real him, thinking he knows him best. they have many differences and thoughts on things but also similarities/shared opinions on some matters and azai took those similarities and assumed they have the same beliefs in general, that theyre the same. he mistakenly believed what they had was something like vika and saran do, some sort of soulmate type of bond. he developed those possessive feelings for HIS idea of saran and couldnt handle it when everything spiraled out of control and his idea shattered to pieces

he believed saran needed him but it turned out he projected that onto saran; hes the one who needed, wanted saran

[feroluce]

how do u imagine natasha + sampo’s relationship?

I. Feel a little bad for leaving this in my inbox as long as I did, especially since I said in this post I could write a whole essay on them. But then when I tried to actually answer this, I realized ah shit, I can't really articulate what I think of them at all OTL

(so have a bajillion words of meta analysis of them instead fklajklasjf)

Just! Sampo is very mysterious figure, and we know so little of his background and his motivations! So it's really difficult to get a solid read on some of his relationships with other characters. Regardless, I do think that Natasha is perhaps the one he's closest with, and that she is the one person who knows him the most intimately in all of Belobog.

And a lot of it IS hard to pin down because of Sampo's slippery nature, but also because it's like. If you look at just Natasha's dialogues about Sampo, it doesn't really look like much. It only becomes more meaningful when compared to how everyone else talks about him.

Most other characters just comment on what Sampo does, as in his observable actions that are easy to see on the surface or from a distance.

Natasha is one of the very, very few that actually speaks to Sampo's personality or philosophy. Like she not only is able to describe a certain behavior of his, but she's able to explain the why behind it.

At least part of this is probably that they spend so much time together- Hook even comments on it during her companion quest.

And tbh I don't really think it needs more proof or anything with such a flat out statement like that, but this is actually further supported by the fact that Seele is the only other character in Belobog to sorta-kinda comment on Sampo's personality; if Sampo were hanging around the clinic with Natasha all day, Seele would probably be the person he would see second-most there. Of the dialogues posted further up in this post, Hook obviously sees him all the time, but it's not always in the clinic, and besides she's still very young...she wouldn't have the same read on him an adult would. Luka avoids the clinic whenever he can because he's worried about taking up Natasha's valuable time. And the Landau siblings aren't even present in Boulder Town until after the Stellaron is quieted.

Seele, on the other hand, is extremely loyal and devoted to Natasha, and seems to worry about her a lot. She doesn't have the same reservations as Luka, and it would feel right to see her in the clinic frequently, taking orders and missions and trying to make sure Natasha doesn't run herself in the ground. So it would make sense for her to see a lot of Sampo if he's always in there, too, enough that she would have things to say about his personality, whether she likes that or not haha.

Of course we know from Sampo's lines that it's not that he's sick, he's just reporting back to Natasha. Sampo not only smuggles in supplies across the border like what most people know him for, he's also Natasha's source of intel.

Bringing back intel doesn't necessarily have to involve a lot of conversation though, especially because it would make more sense for Sampo to be turning in written reports. It decreases the chance of Natasha mishearing/misunderstanding something or having to rely on memory alone, neither of which are really things you probably want to be doing when bad intel can mean the difference between life and death in her circumstances. So I do really wonder what it is Sampo does in the clinic all day haha. Given that he's a big believer in the power of small talk bringing in big clients, it's entirely possible Sampo is just in there being chatty, happily making conversation and keeping Natasha company most of the time...which is kinda cute. He also really could just be talking shop, too, of course- Sampo does a lot of work for Natasha, and I don't think it'd be a stretch to assume she's his main client. There's probably a lot to discuss about supply quotas, incoming intel, scheduled drops, etc.

My favorite option, though, is actually based on one of Sampo's options from the main quest, where he says:

Because like! The way he says this, the way he specifies that this is his opinion, but no one seems to care what he thinks? And how he calls them stubborn in particular? It really sounds like Sampo has been trying to get Wildfire to operate in a different direction. And if you look up the exact definition of "artless," you get this

which very much fits Sampo, and how he does things. He has guile and deception down to an art form. Sampo goes on to call Wildfire "do-gooders," but then cautions the trailblazer not to underestimate them because of that- indicating that Sampo sees that type of philosophy as something naive, or at least just ineffective. Something that you would underestimate a person for.

And the person Sampo associates with the most in Wildfire, the one he's always seen with, the one who would hold the most sway to change the modus operandi of the organization is...Natasha.

So I wonder if Sampo has been trying, possibly for years now, to get Natasha to see what he thinks of as reason, and start playing dirty to survive. I wonder if that's what he spends so much time in the clinic for, is because he does care, and he wants her and the rest of them to live, and he has been trying to convince her to go with his way of doing things, but Natasha has been refusing him, refusing to compromise her morals.

Because we know from some readables and from the general Vibe, both up on the surface and down below, that things were getting pretty dire. Rivet Town has fallen. The Silvermane Guards are being whittled down and broken. The Fragmentum was right on everyone's doorstep, and I'm sure that if the Astral Express hadn't arrived- and that if Sampo hadn't set the stage so perfectly, if he hadn't played his part just so- then all of Belobog would have eventually been snuffed out. Sampo had to have known it was happening. He must have known the end was upon them.

He doesn't even have a stake in Belobog- he's not from here. He could, assumingly, call it quits and leave when shit got tough by whatever means got him there in the first place.

And I'm sure Sampo wants to save all of Belobog, but I think he's particularly endeared by Natasha. He famously phrases his view of Elation as "true happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind." And like. Who else embodies that so much as her?

Maybe it is a little vague and up to interpretation, but I feel like Natasha is FULL of that kind of dignity. She has been doing this since before the blockade. She willingly chose to stay in the Underground where she could do the most good. She has seen so, so much death and you can see how it weighs on her; she's become bitter, and wary, and weary. She has it out for the Guards (understandable), and she openly taunts Gepard and goes right for his throat when he shows up in Boulder Town, ten years too late, trying to help with the Fragmentum.

Natasha even seems to have given up any belief she may have once had. She's completely lost faith in Qlipoth.

All of this, and yet she still chooses to be kind. She still chooses to help people. There is something immensely admirable in all of that.

And I feel like you can see how much Sampo admires her in just how often he thinks of her, especially when someone needs help. Sampo smokebombs everyone and needs to get them somewhere safe in the Underground? He takes them to Natasha. Svarog is about to fucking kill everyone? Go get Natasha. He finds the trailblazer passed out in an alleyway? He carries them to Natasha. The trailblazer is seeing weird shit out in the Fragmentum? Recommend they go get a check up. Specifically from Natasha.

It's a little silly, but I think you can also see some of this when Sampo is being melodramatic about being caught red-handed in the museum event. He echoes a very important sentiment to Natasha and Wildfire;

And the mission where this ideology was displayed strongest was titled, "To Rot or To Burn."

(Hell, in the dream sequence of Penacony- regardless of whether that dream bubble came from Sampo or Sparkle, it had to be informed by Sampo's tales of Belobog. Sparkle has never been there herself. And the kind trashcan that immediately helps you and sets you on the right path, that tries to rally everyone together, the only one with a name so clearly and obviously taken from someone Sampo knew in Belobog? Is Shatana- an anagram of Natasha. Even from a meta perspective, they have the same VA. No other trashcan there gets that treatment. None.)

I think they have the same goals, and even hold some of the same views. Natasha's are much more obvious, but still. Sampo says this about Belobog's circumstances:

And he says this as though it should be obvious common sense. That when things are rough, you share and make sure everyone has enough. I think they both share this belief, it's just that they disagree on how to go about making things even. Natasha believes in rallying people for the cause and giving as much of herself as she can to make up for whatever people lack. Sampo believes that if some dipshit with more money than what they need falls for his bullshit and he gets to spread it around? Well hey, that sounds like a whole lot of their own fault.

Natasha is definitely aware of this, and she has no problem threatening Sampo whenever she thinks he's stepping out of line.

She keeps him on a very short leash, which like. Yeah no that's valid fjkdlsajfdklj

Even so, the way she talks about him, like... Maybe it's just me, and my rose-colored glasses, but she doesn't seem to dislike him nearly as much as she could? She kind of just. Says these things as statements about him, without any real vitriol behind them. This is just kind of how he is. She even seems to have a sense of humor about it.

And again! She has so much more to say about him than almost any other character.

I'd like to think part of her...affection? of sorts? for him is simple camaraderie. Circumstances are dire. Past, present, and future are all bleak. Things like that deepen bonds with your foxhole buddies. Sampo is dependent on Natasha for work and pay and a place to get away from the Guards. Natasha is dependent on Sampo for food and medicine and life-saving supplies. They both heavily rely on each other in this harsh environment, and they have a really nice back-and-forth that I appreciate with how they help each other out by owing favors as payment.

And the other part, I'd like to think actually IS because she knows him very well- maybe not things like his past, but she knows some of his personality and beliefs, and finds them agreeable enough. She even has the audacity to call him a poor liar at one point- Sampo! Of all people! Known by someone well enough to be caught out as a poor liar! He's either intentionally leading her on and letting her think she's caught him, or Natasha just really is that good. Neither would surprise me tbh

I think Natasha is also just uniquely prepared to understand Sampo, and is able to see his better sides without letting her judgement be clouded by his slimy manner. She's able to appreciate that his actions ARE extremely helpful, regardless of how he does them.

Even as she acknowledges that he isn't always trustworthy, she does still choose to rely on him and give him chances. She was pleasantly surprised by him here, but she still chose to trust him with this in the first place. She never treats him harshly, and she never seems to bear any kind of grudge with him.

But my favorite example of Natasha being able to understand Sampo? My favorite is this. This one little throwaway line, that didn't even involve him, wasn't even about him. I feel like Natasha is capable of knowing and understanding Sampo on a deeper level than most people can, solely because of this.

She gets it.

(As a fun bonus: In the current trashcan event, there's a simple mechanic where you get one trial character for the initial battle. Then, for the harder stage, you get that same trial character, plus a couple of extras. This is true for every Proof- except for Sampo's. In his harder stage, you use Asta, Black Swan, and Luocha. But in his initial stage, in an event all about friendship and relationships...)

[beefbroganoff]

Maybe I feel a cocktail of loneliness and envy of others’ relationships but. I ran my laundry without much coaxing today and brushed/flossed/used mouthwash before bed for the first time in probably like. A decade. So it’s not all bad and I really mean that

[kavehayati]

Huh I just realised, what kinda riles up my psychosis is usually the type of things that rlly have an impact on me, like say guilt … GOD. Guilt genuinely takes a hold of me completely. That and shame. Like ;; listen. I just forgot the intensity of the guilt and shame I held today probably bc I shared it with dahlia idk, and then although I intellectually feel super guilty and ashamed, it’s not as terrifying as before, it’s more manageable. Like I can actually do other things now apart from thinking abt it ? But like nah I kinda remember it a lot now so maybe I should stop talking abt it.

[autism-corner]

YIPPEE

[dollyichi]

cola i beg i need ur h word powers rn any crumbs ily

m—dni / f ! reader

denki has a tip fetish. realized this when you were giving him a pussy job and really liked it when you teased him from the tip (ends up returning the favor). thus he tends to fuck you with only his tip ending up developing your entrance to be extra sensitive. every time he gets to fuck you, you’re already gushing around him especially when he hits that sweet spot. it’s insane how he’s not even fully bottomed out and you’re still squirming like crazy. you love the feeling of him fully inside though. even if you begged him he’d ignore your pleas and continue to fuck you the way he wants—only if you move your hips yourself and lead his cock further in, that’s when he can’t refuse. “baby~ you’re so cute you just wanna dirty my cock huh?”

eijirou’s the complete opposite, he’s always desperate to want to ‘push it harder’ inside, it’s never complete when you’re not filled to the brim of him. the first time he ever begged for it you didn’t understand what he meant, “p-push hard?” light headed and confused. he’d reply with a breathy and happy “thank you princess.” sounding relieved—immediately thrusting in balls deep and that’s how you found out what ‘push it harder’ meant. he always asks if he could, which makes him such a sweetheart, though he gets too excited to wait for your answer (not like you minded). his movements are always hard and deep, but he looks like he’s always melting when you’re letting him hold you. he always goes weak when you’re so tight around him thinking he might just cum right there. “s’good so fucking tight-! n-no baby i’m too sensitive i-it’s not fair.”

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i hope u like this babe! idk why i ended up writing this (though denki is an obvious choice) kisskiss!!

[hotchnerwrites]

Hi hi hi my babyy🤍🤍

First I want to apologize for appearing until now, life has become severely difficult :( How have you been? How is everything going?🫂

So now I'm someone's controversial young girlfriend🙇🏻‍♀️(it's not as many years difference as it sounds) and that gave me an idea with my favorite man🫠

What if Hotch and the reader have this mutual desire but Hotch doesn't approach the reader because her's younger and the reader doesn't approach him because her's afraid of rejection But one night maybe they share a kiss or a light touch that makes Hotch close himself off more and discourages the reader:( and finally when they go on a case the one from the head office who is Hotch's age flirts with the reader and she reciprocates first because she is single and second because she really loves that her couples are older 😮‍💨 and Aaron gets really jealous because he 'thought he was the only one' and that tension finally falls apart when he confronts her and she simply tells him that the head of the department is some kind of distraction about her crush on Hotch 🫠

The truth is that in the end I didn't know how to develop the idea, I'm sure you can do it better, I hope it was understood. 😭🙏🏻

As always take it only if you feel comfortable (and understand it) I send you all my love, I'm excited to be here again I'm not going to lie about it!!🥹💗💗

xoxoxo

-👩🏻‍🦰

Unspoken

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: SFW, jealous!hotch, mutual pining, angst, sort of happy ending, making out, no use of (y/n),

A/N: HIIII LOVELY, missed seeing you in my requests. things have been crazy on my end ngl 😭 moved cities, broke my teeth, med exams etc. god is testing me rn smhhhh. and congratulations on your new relationship!!!! so happy for you <3 (totally not jealous 😔/s) anyways, kind of went crazy on this request, LOOOOVED the idea so much. i wanted this man suffering in the fic lmaooo. anyways, here you go!!! hope you like it, and it's what you wanted!!! sending u all my love 💚

PS. Let me know if the formatting is off. It's wonky on my laptop but not my phone for whatever reasons.

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

There had always been something there.

Unacknowledged, simmering beneath longing glances and fleeting touches. An almost magnetic pull between you and Aaron— felt by both, acted on by neither. It existed in the quiet spaces between conversations, the way he positioned himself beside you during briefings, in the way his hand would almost touch the small of your back before withdrawing at the last second.

But that something was fated to remain unspoken. Unmentioned.

And that had been Aaron’s choice, not yours.

You never pushed him. Not when you caught his gaze lingering, not when he brought you coffee and no one else, not when he gave you his coat on cold nights without a word, not even when— after a particularly hard case— you had found yourself in the dimly lit hallway of a motel, wrapped up in his arms, listening to his uneven heartbeat like he was battling something within himself. 

For a second, you had let yourself hope. This had to be it. His breaking point.

But then he had pulled away. 

And the next day? He shut you out completely.  He didn’t meet your eyes in the briefing. He stopped those wordless gestures you had learned to find comfort in. His usual attentiveness toward you, the way he always ensured you were comfortable… was gone. He was probably more attentive towards Reid.

So, it became obvious. You adapted like you always did. You drew the line in the sand and stuck to your side. The conversations became strictly professional, words clipped but polite. You stopped bringing him a cup of coffee if he lingered in the bullpen late at night. On long flights home, he stopped offering you the seat next to him.

Even the team noticed.

Rossi had given Hotch a Look more than once, his stare heavy with disappointment. JJ asked if you were okay, and even Morgan had thrown out a casual, “What’s going on with you two?”

You vehemently denied everything. Everything was fine. Everything was normal.

What else could you have said? That you wanted Aaron? That you had spent months convincing yourself he had wanted you, too? That, in the end, he had rejected it— no, he had denied you— not even with words, but with distance?

You knew you deserved better. You deserved someone who would be proud to love you. Someone who wasn’t scared of the possibility of a relationship.

So, you moved on.

———

Then came Baltimore. 

Michael Keating was confident, charismatic, and older. He was the Chief of the Baltimore Division, respected and soft-spoken. He carried himself with ease, joked about the growing silver streak in his hair, and greeted everyone by name. He made people laugh and asked about their day.

And he noticed you. 

It started small. A compliment on your profiling. Deferring to you when asked about the unsub. 

You hadn’t meant to encourage it. But then again— why refuse yourself? You had spent too long pining for something that wasn’t meant to happen. You were single, and you wanted a change. And Michael was perfect.

Keating was different. He was direct in a way Hotch never was. He didn’t hesitate to place a hand on your lower back as he showed you around the precinct. He leaned in when he spoke to you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. He smelled like the ocean— sea salt and sandalwood.

But there was something about Michael that reminded you of Aaron. The little things. The way his voice softened when he said your name. The way he listened— giving you his rapt attention, something Hotch always did, but only ever with you.

Nevertheless, Keating wasn’t Hotch. And you weren’t going to let yourself draw baseless comparisons. So you let him flirt with you. It felt good to be seen. When he brought you your morning coffee, you accepted gratefully, smiling up at him. When he leaned in and said something low and teasing, you laughed.

That was when you felt it.

A prickle at the back of your neck. Someone watching.

You didn’t deign to turn, but you knew. 

Aaron.

For a second you felt suffocated. But the feeling was gone as swiftly as it had come. When you finally joined your team, Hotch was talking with García, and he didn’t even spare you a glance.

For the rest of the day, you pretended that it hadn’t affected you as much as it did. You maintained your professional façade, breaking only once when Michael slid you a sticky note with a silly doodle on it. Everything went well. Or so you thought.

Hotch brushed past you with nothing more than a curt “Excuse me” as he entered the meeting room. His voice held a subtle undercurrent of knowing, but you brushed it off. It just wasn’t your problem any longer.

But when Keating pulled out your chair for you, you felt it again— the prickling.

Hotch walked out of the room.

Emily noticed. 

“Whatever it is,” she muttered as you watched Hotch’s back disappear down the hallway, “you two need to sort it out before it affects the case.”

You know she’s right. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. What was there to say?

Aaron had no right to feel this way. He had his chance. If he wanted you, he should have said so. But he didn’t, instead, he turned tail and ran.

And you weren’t going to sit around waiting for him to come to.

————

The bar had emptied, the rest of the team long since in their rooms. You had stayed a bit longer, letting the bite of your drink settle into your bones. You needed it after the week you’d had. Michael had apologised profusely when you’d invited him; he had to meet with the prosecutor. After the initial sting of disappointment, you were glad that he wasn’t here. You needed some space from it all. You let your mind disconnect from the world, letting the faint hum of the music take over.

Which is why you weren’t prepared when Aaron cornered you. 

“Keating?” His tone was level as if asking you about the weather. But the way his hands were clenched tight told you a different story. “That’s who you want?”

Your stomach twisted, almost painfully.

Not this. Not this conversation, not after months of silent torture, months of being ignored, months of being treated like nothing.

“What does it matter to you?” You retorted, rolling your eyes. Fatigue seeped into your voice that had nothing to do with the case. “You don’t get to ask me that, Aaron.”

Something flickered in his eyes when you said his name. Maybe it reminded him of how you used to say it with warmth.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “Didn’t think he was your type.”

A short, humourless laugh escaped you. “My type?” You shook your head vigorously. “I didn’t realise I needed your opinion on that. You’ve barely acknowledged my existence this month.”

Hotch’s shoulders tensed. “That’s not—”

“Not what? Not fair?” Your eyes burned, “You pushed me away. You didn’t even ask how I felt. You chose for both of us and now you’re— what? Upset I’ve moved on?”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Enlighten me, then,” you snap, anger hiding the fact that you were begging for an answer, one you knew he’d never give.

Nothing. As expected. The silence between you stretched on. You didn’t know what you had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. All of a sudden, the atmosphere of the bar became a little too much. The stench of stale beer overpowered your nose and the tinny audio from the jukebox irked you. You slid off the barstool and threw a couple of crumpled bills on the counter.

Then, barely above a whisper, you heard him rasp, “I thought I was the only one.”

A punch to your chest might have hurt less. 

Your breath stuttered, heart aching at the confession that settled in the space between you. He was falling apart, and you could see it—the way his brows drew together, the way his throat bobbed as he tried to force out something he wasn’t ready to say.

And for the first time, you saw the truth for what it was.

Aaron Hotchner was a man who carried too much. Who loved too hard and too quietly. Who convinced himself that his feelings were a burden he couldn’t afford, even when he was faced with the enormity of it.

But he wanted.

God, he wanted.

And it terrified him.

A bitter laugh escaped you. How could he? No, how dare he expect you to hold on to the idea that you were his when he kept you at a distance further than the rest of the team? That no one else could want you the way he did?

“You could have been, Aaron,” you responded, the weight of the world suddenly crushing you. “But you were the one who made sure you weren’t.”

Something in him shattered. You could tell. The way he flexed his hand, the way his posture stiffened like he was dealing with a blow he wasn’t ready to receive.

“Why are you doing this, to me?” Hotch’s voice was hoarse, thick with emotion— anger, regret, longing and want all tangled together.

“I’m doing this to you?” Your voice wavered, and you hated yourself for it, “Hotch, do you even hear yourself right now?”

He stepped closer, crowding your space, eyes dark with something desperate. “I tried—” He dragged a shaky hand through his hair, “ I tried to stay away. I thought it was the right thing.”

“Right thing for who? It sure as hell wasn’t right for me,” you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest, ignoring the slight tremble, “You shut me out. You acted like nothing was there, like I had imagined everything.” Your voice cracked, “And now I get to deal with you being jealous because Michael actually sees me? Because he’s not afraid to show me wants me?”

A muscle in Aaron’s jaw fluttered as he repeated, “I told you, it’s not about that.”

“Oh, wasn’t it?” you cried, anger building, “You wanted me to wait for you? To exile myself in the dark and hope that maybe one day you’d stop being afraid of us? That’s not fair, Aaron. I can’t do that to myself. I deserve better.”

“I know.” His voice cracked on the words, and for the first time, you saw the raw emotion on his face— all of it. The weight of it, the struggle in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right.

The anger ebbs out of you, replaced with something numb.

“Then why? Why didn’t you—”

Aaron moved then. He reached for you before he could stop himself, finger ghosting over your wrist before settling there, gripping gently. The heat of his fingers burned, like something he had been starving for but denied himself for too long.

“Because… I wanted you. Too much,” he admitted, voice grating like it pained him. His grip tightened on your wrist, thumb tracing the delicate skin. “I was afraid that if I let myself have this— you— I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

It was cruel, really. How he could unravel you with his words, make you forget about the months of pain and anger and hurt you’d endured. Even the way he looked at you like you were someone he couldn’t bear to lose.

“Aaron—”

Whatever you were about to say was swallowed up by his lips on yours. 

It wasn’t anything like the countless times you’d imagined it. You had always figured he’d be gentle, taking his time.

But this wasn’t soft, nor was it careful. This was desperate.

Like he was a man at his breaking point, like someone who had wasted time denying everything, only to give in all at once. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing across your cheeks as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss. He was pressed flush against you, sandwiching you between the barstool and his body like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers like sand. In the back of your mind, you faintly registered the whir of the jukebox as it changed the track.

You gasped against Aaron, and that tiny sound undid him. He groaned softly, tilting his head to chase you, to taste more, to lose himself in a way he had always wanted but never permitted.

You breathed in his scent, bourbon and coffee, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. You were anchoring yourself because this was everything you had been waiting for. 

The kiss lingered, months of tension evaporating between you, the space that had existed suddenly gone, replaced by something breathless and real. You pushed back against him, ready to get your heart’s desire. Aaron didn’t stop; he was kissing you as if it was the last thing he would ever do. He tasted heavenly, much better than you’d ever imagined. Every thought eddied out of your mind as you let the feeling of his lips against yours wash over you. Even before the moment was over, you knew that this memory would be branded into your soul. 

When Aaron finally pulled away, he didn’t go too far. You sucked in a ragged breath and squeezed your eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours. His breathing was uneven too, and you could feel the warmth of it against your lips. Then, slowly, his hands dropped from your face. He took a step back— reluctantly— just enough to reach up and loosen his tie. 

His fingers scrabbled at the knot for a moment before he wrenched it down forcefully. He then ran his hands through his hair again, mussing it in a way you’d never seen before, and let out a breathless laugh. For a split second, memories of the night when he had held you close flashed before your eyes. He had loosened his tie then, too, before enveloping you in his embrace. 

“I don’t want to be the one who let you get away,” Aaron whispered, his voice bringing you back to the present. 

The pain in your chest throbbed. At how broken and hopeful he sounded, all at once.

“Aaron,” you murmured, letting his name rest on your tongue for a moment too long.

“I—” he stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself. This wasn’t where he had thought the night would go. You watched Aaron carefully, his chest still rising and falling too quickly. You reached for his hand, squeezing it once. 

“Aaron,” you uttered his name again, tone firmer, hoping to bring him back to you.

He looked at you then, chocolate brown eyes hardening with resolve. He started, “This… us…”

You cut him off, then. 

“Aaron,” you repeat, brushing your fingers over his jaw, “You need to choose. Me, us. Everything. You have to choose to stay.”

He glanced off to the side somewhere. Then, a slow exhale. A quiet moment of realisation.

He met your gaze again, almost bashfully this time, “If you’ll still have me.”

You laughed then, disbelieving because, of course, Aaron would say that, as if your heart hadn’t been his since the first time you saw him.

Neither of you spoke then. The past, the hurt, the hesitation— but also the possibility— swam through the charged atmosphere.

The choice.

“Okay,” you said simply.

When Aaron pulled you into his chest, you let him.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[yuwuta]

please feed us some yuuji blurbs there’s a lack of him rn :(

ofc… sweetest boy all time… here’s something was was meant to be a longer project but got lost in the editing whirlwind… love him so bad... 

NEVER LOST IN TRANSLATION, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT 

notes: reader is implied to be american/english-speaking, yuuta and megumi are bilingual, yuuji, bless his soul, is not. i didn’t use italics for conversations between yuuji and megumi because it would all be in japanese, but when they get mixed later in the scene, japanese is differentiated with italics. hope that’s not too confusing lololll

Honestly, Yuuji tried his best in school. Some things came easier than other, but with a bit of hard work, and help from his friends, he always managed to pull pretty good grades. But right now, his biggest regret is not taking english more seriously in high school, because it’s been about three weeks since he met you, and he’s only been able to say maybe five full sentences to you without the help of Yuuta or Megumi translating. 

He was excited when Yuuta said his friend from abroad would be coming to visit and study, but god, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty. To have such pretty eyes, and pretty lips, and pretty hair, to have the prettiest voice in the world despite him only understanding every eighteenth word you say. You’re beautiful to him, and Yuuji thinks that even if he could speak your language fluently, the words would still get caught in his throat. He’s so lovesick, it’s embarrassing—his friends have been harping on him blushing and stuttering over you for the past month, and he can’t even blame them.

“What does she say to you when you guys talk,” Yuuji whines, hovering around Megumi, and not-so-discreetly looking back at you where you’re still sat in the living room laughing with Yuuta, “Does she ever say anything about me? I mean—probably not right? Which is fine! Actually, dont tell me—no, do. Or maybe—”

“She asks about you,” Megumi says, matter-of-fact in delivery, as he places a bag of popcorn in the microwave, but that doesn’t curb Yuuji’s enthusiasm. He’s practically bouncing, if he weren’t already—begging Megumi to spill the details, “What did she ask? Tell me! Tell me!” 

“She once asked if you dye your hair.”

“That’s it?!” Yuuji screams, heartbroken, and visibly deflating.

Megumi shrugs, “Yuuta probably knows more. She’s his exchange buddy friend thing, so ask him.”

“I can’t ask him, he’s right next to her!” Yuuji pouts, “Wait, what does ‘exchange buddy friend thing’ mean? You don’t think they’re more than friends, right…? I can’t blame her, senpai is really pretty, too, and he can actually talk to her… so unfair.” 

“You know, she’s not fluent, but she can understand some Japanese,” Megumi reminds him, “So, she can definitely hear you, and probably understand you.”

Yuuji’s shoulders slump, and once again, he turns around to look back at you. This time, you two make eye-contact, and that instant, Yuuji’s cheeks go pink, a nervous hand raised to wave at you, and instant internal regret at his actions; but, then you smile, and wave back, and Yuuji stays like that, dumbfounded and lovestruck and on autopilot as he waves with hearts in his eyes until Yuuta looks up from his phone and catches him.

Embarrassing. He knows he’s not the brightest, but he’s at a record high of self-embarrassment since he’s met you.

Yuuta finds himself chuckling when Yuuji spins around and goes back to prodding Megumi with questions. When you turn to face him again, it’s with a shy smile.

“I told you you’d like him,” Yuuta grins—the kind that seems sweet and innocent, but has just a kiss of that all-knowing tease to it; the kind that reminds you that he’s truly related to Satoru.

“Oh, be quiet,” you grumble, tucking your legs in and resting your chin on your knee. You spare another glance in Yuuji’s direction, for once, grateful for the language barrier between the two of you, when you turn back to Yuuta to proclaim: “I can like someone and not do anything about it. You’re real good at that, aren’t you?”

Yuuta’s slightly cocky grin falls into a scowl, and now you get to smile when he argues back, “We said not to bring up he who shall not be named in the presence of my friends!”

“Then don’t bring up my he who shall not be named in the presence of him!”

“Aren’t Americans all about forging new frontiers and chasing after your dreams?” he taunts, “Well, your dream is right in front of you.”

“My dream right now is to kill you.”

“Lucky for me, you’re going to have to hold off on that because your lover boy is approaching.”

You don’t have time to argue back with Yuuta when Megumi and Yuuji approach the living area with snacks in tow. Yuuta scoots to the tail end of the couch under the guise of giving Yuuji space to place the popcorn and nuggets in the center of the coffee table, but he has just enough time to flash you a wink before Yuuji settles in between. Megumi opts for the loveseat closets to Yuuta’s end of the couch, and you do your best not to reach over Yuuji and strangle Yuuta.

The boys decide on watching a movie you’ve never heard of, but Megumi reassures you it’ll be easy to follow and has English subtitles. You don’t mind, settling in to your corner of the couch with a handful of popcorn just as the title-screen for Human Earthworm 3 rolls across the TV.

You can follow along well-enough—even without subtitles, you get the gist of the movie. What you really find entertaining is Yuuji, who occasionally blurts out a comment or exclamation, or audibly coos whenever something sad is happening on screen. He’s almost as animated as the characters; you’re more of the silent-watcher type, but you find yourself endearing by this commentary, even if you can only understand parts of it.

You particularly appreciate the way that after every comment, he either motions to Megumi, or turns to you himself to repeat his thoughts in his best broken English, and even when you don’t understand his words, you understand him. His emotions are all on his sleeve: frustration, happiness, confusion, curiosity—communication between you two should be more difficult, but Yuuji makes it easy.

It gives you the confidence you cough out your own observation, “You, um… you’ve… seen the others? You seem to like this series.”

Across the room, Megumi and Yuuta hold their breaths, opting to not translate for you when you switch from Japanese to English. Yuuji is quiet for a moment, turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face that makes you nervous, until his eyes brighten up and he smiles and begins nodding fervently—“Yeah—yeah, I do! It’s my… hm how do I say it… Oh! It’s my favorite!”

Between the smile on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and sincerity in his voice, you feel like you’re wrapped up in his world. It’s a little confusing, and scary, but it’s not all that bad. Maybe you can do something about it, eventually.

“I.. I think I like it, too.”

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

[x]

Go get their greedy a$$es, CN girlies 👑💯 From my understanding the CN boycott is beginning to move beyond just kittens, slowly spreading out to the rest of the fanbase. Which is great! The more people join, the bigger chance of success.

The fact that the hairstyles and outfits are pulled separately for this banner is asinine. If you look up money hungry in the dictionary, you'll find a group photo of Paperfold's higher-ups.

I am fully onboard with the CN girlies demand for more rewards during grinding. The droprates are extremely low rn and it's unjustifiable.

I think it's fitting to also include this post here showing the struggle players face in endgame

[x]

Like I mentioned in a post of my own, grinding for Dias in endgame is infuriatingly difficult even for whales or dolphins (ie the people that can afford to invest in all 5 LIs). In the long run this will be unsustainable. A change by Paperfold is necessary atp. Remember, they are a multimillion corporation. They can absolutely afford to be more generous. So why aren't they? Answer: they're greedy and, as long as players let them, they will push this behavior as far as they can. To the detriment of their game. They are showing a blatant lack of regard or respect for their playerbase with this stingy behavior.

I personally feel like the upcoming banner — and the separate hair + outfits — is a cash grab by Paperfold. LADS flopped hard in January and now the company are scrambling to recover. So I feel like the course they'll ultimately take in the future hinges a lot on the success — or lack thereof — of this new banner. If it succeeds, well, then they know that all they need to do is throw sexy banners at us and they're off the hook. No need to implement changes. If it tanks however, then they'll have to face the music and listen to their consumers. Rein in their greed. Make things right. Communicate. Treat the LIs equally (this is my hope anyway as a Sylus girly b/c let me tell you it's rough out here). At least this is my assumption. It'd be idiotic of them if they still refuse to heed their customers and ignore the boycott. Especially considering how much their Scrooge McDuck a$$es obviously love money.

Let's hope for the best and, if you can and want to, please do join in on the boycott. The most effective way of doing so is not to spend money during the banner and to refrain from pulling even using red dias or tickets for the first 3 days of the banner period. And also to limit your time on the app during the same timeframe (that is, 3 days). Spread the word. Send a message with your wallet. Don't encourage blatant greed and mistreatment. We as consumers hold more sway than we think. Remember, we are boycotting out of love for this game and a desire to see it thrive for years to come as well as to prevent it from becoming entirely P2P. Because if Paperfold gets away with their current behavior, then more and more players will eventually get turned off by a game that essentially forces you to spend considerable chunks of your hard earned money for the bare minimum. Again, and I'm not saying this lightly, it'll be unsustainable.

[asterafroditis]

hiiii

ik your requests are closed rn so please ignore this until you have time :>

i just really need more of that forgetful reader fic, and i would forget about requesting this unless i sent it quickly lol.

but i'd like for it to either be with vice housewardens (+ruggie, platonic for ortho or no ortho) or just anyone you'd want to write for lmao

with a gn reader thx

Love-Anon

𐔌 . ⋮ memory markers .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Vice-Housewardens (+ Ruggie) x forgetful gn! reader

𓏵 1316 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff, (once again, like for every work I make with Rook, the French may not be totally accurate)

This has been rotting in my drafts for a very long while, and it's not exactly proofread and sticks to the idea of the original request/housewardens ver., so yeah; but I hope this fulfills your request!

feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Trey notices your memory troubles pretty early. He’s used to watching out for others, especially in a dorm like Heartslabyul. You forget small things often: if you turned off the oven, where you left your notebook, or what someone just asked you to do seconds ago. But Trey never calls you out in front of others or sighs in frustration.

Instead, he quietly adapts.

“Did you tap your ring twice before walking away? That’s how you mark when you finish something, right?” he asks, cleaning flour off his fingers during a baking session. You nod, a little embarrassed. He gives a soft, understanding chuckle.

“Hey, if it helps you remember, it’s not silly. Everyone’s got their own systems.”

Trey’s always gentle and straightforward. When he helps you in the kitchen, he’ll pause and ask, “Want me to say something out loud when you start the next step? Might help it stick.” If you're feeling overwhelmed or second-guessing yourself, he never rushes you—he just stands by, ready to pick up where you left off.

He encourages you to build consistent, repeatable patterns, not just for yourself, but so he can support you better. “You snap when you're done with the eggs. Okay. I’ll watch for that, and if you don’t do it, I’ll give a nudge. Sound fair?”

He never pities you, though. Trey is practical and calm, and he knows stress doesn’t help memory one bit. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You remembered to bring me that weird strawberry-salt combo I mentioned once in passing. That says a lot.”

He respects how observant you are in other ways; how you notice when he’s clenching his jaw whenever he's unsure, or how he adjusts his glasses twice when he’s thinking. You may forget instructions, but you remember people. Trey sees the effort, and that means more to him than perfection.

─────────────────────────

Ruggie catches on fast, probably because he’s spent his whole life working around other people’s messes. When you forget something the third time in a row, he doesn’t get mad; he just sighs and offers a solution.

“You do that snap noise every time you finish a chore, right? Kinda weird, but hey, it works,” he grins. “Wanna teach me your system so I can back you up?”

He jokes a lot, calling your forgetfulness “goldfish mode”, but the teasing is lighthearted and never cruel. If anyone else dares mock you, he’s quick to defend you with a sharp glare and a, “You ain’t perfect either, y’know.”

Ruggie starts building reminders into your shared tasks. “Let’s clap twice before sweeping. That way you’ll know it’s done. Boom. Efficiency.” He’s surprisingly clever at helping you make your memory tricks fun and quick— “Work smart, not hard,” he says, tapping his temple.

He especially notices that you always remember his favorite food, how he likes his tail scratched, and how he stashes bread rolls for later.

“Ha! You forgot which class we had, but remembered I hide stuff in the third drawer? You’re somethin’ else,” he says, shaking his head but grinning.

─────────────────────────

Jade is… a little too fascinated.

“I see. So, your memory retention increases when associated with physical or auditory cues. Intriguing.” His tone is polite, but you can feel the curiosity burning under the surface.

He watches your routines intently. You snap your fingers, then spin once to remember you watered the plants. Jade does not intervene—he observes. Quietly, thoroughly.

When he starts assisting, it’s subtle. You go to double-check something, and it’s already done. Jade did it after watching your pattern break.

“I noticed you didn’t make your usual snapping sound. I assumed the task slipped.” He smiles, eerie but sincere.

He offers experimental solutions, too: “Would associating smell improve recall? I could prepare small samples for you to test—harmless, of course.”

If you forget and panic, he never scolds. “Calm down. The mind is complex. Yours simply takes a different path.”

You once recited the exact way he brews his special tea— from timing to the tealeaf brand. His eyes lit up, impressed.

“Fascinating. So you forget where you placed your book, but recall my blend perfectly? Truly… selective memory is a marvel.”

─────────────────────────

At first? Jamil felt some frustration. Not at you, but at the situation.

“Didn’t I just say—ah. Right. You didn’t mark it.” He sighs and rubs his temples.

But once he understands your condition better, he adjusts. He’s practical, organized, and deeply perceptive.

“You remember sounds and movement? Then let’s make a checklist. Dance-step it, if you have to.” He even helps choreograph simple foot taps or claps for tasks.

“Brush teeth: clap and snap. Got it?”

He never babies you, but he always keeps track. You can rely on him to step in when your memory hiccups mid-way through something important.

You’re checking the doorknob for the fourth time? “It’s locked. You tapped the frame three times. I watched.”

You once mentioned the exact number of times he adjusts his collar when he’s stressed. He stopped mid-fidget.

“…You really remembered that?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. It’s one of your tells.”

That… hit him deeper than he let on.

“Even when your brain’s a mess, you notice that? Hmph. You’re something else, huh?”

─────────────────────────

Rook notices your forgetfulness right away— not just because you space out or repeat tasks, but because you use little actions to anchor yourself: tapping your knuckles, humming softly, or snapping your fingers after completing something.

He finds it fascinating.

“Ah, magnifique,” he murmurs the first time he watches you knock twice on the desk after finishing an assignment. “You remember the smallest details of those around you, but daily tasks vanish in an instant… how endearing.”

Rook never mocks you, never sighs. Instead, he picks up on your cues and gently reminds you when needed. If he sees you hesitate, he calmly says, “You tapped your fingers just now, non? That was your signal.” He’s observant enough to reinforce your system without making you feel embarrassed.

When you get frustrated, Rook reassures you with a warm smile. “Mon ami, do not let this trouble your heart. The memory of the soul is far more valuable than any fleeting errand.”

Around the dorm, Rook smooths things over when others get impatient, whether it’s teasing Epel to relax or reassuring Vil that you’re doing your best.

To Rook, your forgetfulness isn’t a flaw; it’s a unique trait that makes you even more intriguing.

“Life is full of moments we forget,” he tells you softly one evening. “But do not worry… I will remember for you.”

─────────────────────────

Lilia finds your memory lapses endearing.

“Ah, déjà vu! Or perhaps… you’ve simply forgotten again? Either way, it's charming!”

He playfully teases—“You asked me that three times, my dear!”—but he’s always gentle. And he offers solutions, often magical in nature.

“I once knew a knight who tied bells to their sleeves to remember chores. Want me to enchant something for you?”

You hum, tap, snap, and he starts joining in with your rhythms, dancing as he hands you reminders:

“Brushed your teeth? Tap twice and do a spin!”

“Fed Grim? Knock on the counter and hum a tune!”

He’s surprisingly good at helping you feel okay when you’re overwhelmed. When your voice cracks from forgetting something important, he just pats your head. “Even I forget things after these many years. Don’t fret, sprout.”

You once mentioned remembering the song he hummed under his breath in his room—something he hadn’t sung in a long while.

“…You remembered that?”

You nod.

“…My, my. Your mind holds treasure in the strangest corners.”

[clancycatears]

IN LOVING HANDS (Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist

kyle has always loved your body. but while he is away on deployment, you get an ache the moment you look at yourself in a mirror. when he comes home to find a frown on your face, he's determined to help you feel better.

cw: mentions of body dysmorphia and nudity, angst to fluff, gaz being a sweetheart, non-sexual body worship, lowkey self-insert vibes (sorry), kissing, cuddling, a tad of sexual innuendos.

a/n: lowkey need some body worship to save me rn. and ofc my sweet sweet boy would fit that best. <3 (i swear i was gonna do this with alejandro but i backpedaled.....)

; 3.3k words.

The feeling of his lips still lingered on your cheek.

Dropping Kyle off at the same familiar military base for the umpteenth time never made it any easier to be away from him.

Hugging him for a minute longer than necessary, littering his face in kisses you hoped would last, whispering a soft “I love you” and “Be safe” in between every peck, only made your heart ache.

Returning to an empty home, feet weighing several pounds more than they should, a piece of him missing for months on end, made your heart ache even more.

It was hard having a boyfriend in the military. Long distance was never your strong suit, but you both made it work. Everything was perfect until the days he had to be away. It was understandable, though; he puts a lot of work into his profession.

He was strong, capable—lined with hard, chiseled muscle that he worked hard for. He deserved it. Earned it. You loved it.

And he loved you.

Almost three years deep with him, and you’re each other’s rocks. Safe havens. That’s what made his deployment the hardest.

You’d miss him, and he’d miss you. Every phone call was spent caressing the empty space in your bed that belonged to him. Wishing his warmth still remained, though it’d cleared mere hours after he slid out from the sheets last.

You still brewed an extra cup of coffee in the mornings. You were especially groggy, realizing all-too-soon that he was still gone, and you’d have to consume the extra caffeine to get through your day.

You’d do his laundry and neatly tuck it back into his respective bureau, dust off his collectibles that he had scattered around the flat, shop for his favorite treats to spoil him with when he returned—just to see the same sweet smile on his face when he walked through the door.

Though you always noticed that the moment his hands landed on you, was when his smile would be the widest. The giddiest. Wrapping you into a hug and holding you so tightly that he hoped it would make up for every single day that he was away.

And, like every time he was, you missed him dearly. Longed for his touch and kisses, that you’d hold yourself or his pillow just to sleep soundly, or thumb your cheek subconsciously—wishing it was his caress.

Though it would never be his. Something about his touch was uniquely Kyle.

So one Tuesday night, while the rain pattered gently against your bedroom window, you looked at yourself and felt uneasy. Still fresh and damp after your shower, skin warm though cooling in mere seconds, you thought you looked wrong.

Your curves were exaggerated, tummy too exposed and plump, thighs too plush to your liking. Your physique felt deformed, disgusting. You felt disgusting.

When you dressed in pajamas and settled into bed, you hesitated on the call button to FaceTime Kyle. You didn't want to see your face looking back at him. You didn't want him to see you the way you saw yourself.

Though before you could back out, he was calling you first. And you answer without a doubt. You missed him, after all. Perhaps his voice would soothe you like it always did.

"Mm. Hi, sweet'art," he rumbled, voice laced with drowsiness. You could see he was lying in his bunk, as he did every night. His lips were curled into the sweetest smile, like he'd been anticipating talking to you all day. "I miss you. How was your day, hm?"

Throughout the conversation, you skirted away from how you felt about your dilemma, instead asking him about how his deployment was going. Unharmed, just a scratch, a fresh shower washed away both the grime and aching joints, the usual.

At some point, you'd rested your phone face-up on the pillow, giving him a clear view of the bumpy apartment ceiling. You hear him shift in bed.

"Where's that pretty face? Wanna see you before I say g'bye, love."

And you take your phone to face him directly, exchanging a small "I love you" before the line is cut.

The call always lasted about thirty to forty-five minutes, since you never wanted to keep him up. He had to be up bright and early, ready for anything. He needed his sleep.

Though you were sleepless, as always. Staring at the ceiling, the memory of his smile imprinted into your head—hoping it would greet you in your dreams.

Though also accompanied by this gnawing feeling. A festering insecurity that made you overthink endlessly.

Every day that passed, you looked at yourself and only saw an ugly figure.

It would always change. One day, your waist felt too plump—The next, it'd look too skinny or boxy. Another day, your shoulders wouldn't be broad enough, while the next—they'd be too hard and you'd hate how you looked with a shirt on. Swapping to a jet-black t-shirt, it'd blanket your form and hide you from yourself. That's the only comfort you'd find while he was away.

You weren't sure why you didn't tell him. Perhaps you didn't want him to worry or return home early to check on you, because he had a job to do.

As hard as it was, you kept it to yourself. Dressing in baggy, dark clothing to hide every dip and crevice of your body before you could overanalyze it.

Late Saturday evening, you leave to pick him up.

The same tight, lingering embrace would transpire. Kisses to your scalp, and to his cheeks, before helping pack his things into the boot of your car and taking him home. Regardless of how long his journey home was, he'd still insist he drive on the way back.

Kicking your loafers off at the door, you'd tug the hem of your hoodie. New habit—happened so often that it was just a second wind.

Kyle noticed, but didn't pry at first.

His eyes were on you the second you gripped the jersey knit.

You tread to the fridge, opening the double doors and illuminating yourself and your surroundings in an artificial white light. Before you can reach for a bottle of water, you feel the warmth of his palms grab your hips. You freeze. Tense.

His hands are off faster than they were on you. "Lovie, what's wrong?" he murmurs, tone full of concern as he watches you slip the bottle out of the fridge's left shelf and turn around to face him.

"Sorry, baby," you reply with a rasp, uncapping your drink to take a quick swig. "Your hands're cold."

That was a lie, and you both knew it. His palms were toasty from the hot blast of your car's heater, and your hoodie blocked any possible freeze that could've pressed onto you.

His lips pinch into a thin line, but he sighs and nods slowly. "Okay, love. Gonna go shower and head to bed. Wait for me?"

"Of course," you hum, and shut your eyes as he cups your cheek, leaning close—but not too closely this time—to peck the top of your head.

As he walked off to the bathroom, you shut the fridge, casting your apartment back into the dim moonlight that filtered through your blinds.

You shuffled into bed, of course, but another new habit reared its angry head—You kept the hoodie on. Even after you wiggled to get comfortable under the sheets, you were scorching. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off, ever.

After another ten minutes pass, Kyle elbows open the door while drying his curls with a separate towel, clad in a pair of pink blossom briefs (a little gift from you) and lounge shorts. He pads to your side to turn on the bedside lamp, casting a warm amber light throughout the bedroom.

His brows pinch only slightly when he catches a glimpse of your hoodie’s collar, before he tosses his towel into the nearby hamper.

When he returns, he just stands at the edge of the bed. “Baby, can you sit up f’me?” he asks calmly.

You could never refuse him, so you do as you’re asked—rolling onto your side before throwing your legs out over the bed to sit up on your ass. You can’t meet his eyes, instead looking to your side to find a nasty crumb on the floor that didn’t exist.

He gets on one knee in front of you, gently taking your hands in his own. His index strokes over the knuckles of your right hand before he brings your palms to his face, pressing them to his cheeks.

That’s when your gaze finds his, thumbs twitching before they graze over his cheekbones.

He’s frowning, lips cast downward as his eyes flicker over your face. “You’ve been acting different, love. Could you tell me what’s wrong?”

“M’sorry,” you start, voice warbled and quiet, “I-I just… I had a bad time while you were away.”

His demeanor softens, not a hint of anger or distaste to be found. “I’ve noticed, sweet’art. Wanna talk about it?” Another glide over your knuckles with his pointers.

Your palms press against his cheeks a tad harder. “Can we lie down first?”

He sighs and runs a hand down to the edge of your left sleeve. “Can I take this off of you, first? You’ll melt if you wear that to sleep.”

You tense again. No, no, no. The fear of him seeing you was instantly clouding your mind. He’s going to hate what I look like. I’ve gained weight while he was away. He’s going to put it back on me the moment he sees me.

Before you could lose yourself, though, you gave him a subtle tip of your head.

He moves your hands from his face, sliding his own up to intertwine your fingers. His warm palms press close to yours. “Words, love. Yes or no?” he asks with a small tilt of his head, giving your face another once-over.

You swallow, jugular bobbing from the invisible thick mass you had to force down. “Yes,” you murmur, giving him another little nod as you did before.

He’s slow, observant—his eyes on you as he releases your hands to move to the hem of your hoodie. You’re rigid, heart pounding under your ribs, though you refuse to let your fight or flight take hold. As he rolls your hoodie up your torso, you lift your arms and tilt your head up to assist him.

Even though you were afraid, you let him. Your hoodie leaves your body as a monochrome shirt, and woolly shorts reveal themselves underneath.

“Better?” he murmurs, and you look back to him, giving him the smallest of nods. “C’mon, let’s get you tucked in, yeah?”

You shuffle back into bed as Kyle discards your hoodie alongside his towel, and he returns and fans your hands away before you can tuck yourself in. As he pulls the bed sheets up to your chin, you eye him with adoration.

He takes good care of me.

Then he’s rounding the bed to climb into his side, facing you as he propped himself up on his elbow. He gives you the same goddamn smile that was hard to refuse or look away from.

Opening his other arm out, you find yourself scooting towards him, and wrapping your arms just underneath his pits, burying your face into his bare collarbone.

“I haven’t liked looking in the mirror lately,” you blurt before you can take the words back. His palm finds your spine, fingertips grazing a path up and down your back.

“Mhm,” he hums, urging you to continue.

You puff your cheeks before deflating them, nuzzling closer to his warmth. “I don’t think… I look good, anymore.”

“What?” his voice pitches, and his hand stills its ministrations on your spine. In that moment, you feel that fear arise once more. Fear that you could be right.

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, and the pit in your stomach is quick to close up. He looks worried, concern wrinkling his features as he brought his hand back to your face.

“What’re you talkin’ about, love?” he whispers, cradling your chin in his palm as he kisses both of your eyebrows. “You’re beautiful.”

“I-I just…” You stutter, eyes flicking away from his own. “It’s really hard to explain, but… I see something different every day.”

He rumbles once more, gently tapping your shoulder as a warning, before he guides you onto your back. He braces his hands by your elbows, and kisses the tip of your nose. “Do y'wanna know what I think, sweet’art?”

“Wh-What?” you warble, blinking up at him as he hovers above you.

“Can I show you?” He tilts his head, beautiful whiskey eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of affection.

You stare for an extra second, then nod your head—before you remember what he said about words. “Yes. Please.”

He sits up, the bed sheets pooling over his lower back, before he scoots backwards. He shuffles the duvet to the side, settling by the tips of your feet.

With his eyes still on yours, he gives your middle toe a little tug. You let out a tiny giggle, jerking your left foot out of reach, and then lying it back down. “Is something wrong with these?” he asks gently.

“I-I think… they’re too big,” you murmur, hands clasping together over your chest, as your fingers fight with one another.

“Well, I think they’re perfect.” He grasps your right foot first, thumbing the underside and putting pressure over the top, massaging it for just a few seconds. Then he moves on to your other foot to repeat. “They hold you up every day, and help you walk right into m’arms. Right?”

The sigh that leaves your lips is light, your body melting into his hands almost instantly. “Mhm…”

He gives both of your shins a kiss before setting your feet back down and scooting upwards. His palms fill with the plush of your thighs. “What about these?” His head tips up to look at you once more.

“Too fat…” You mutter, pressing your thumbs together to avoid picking at your cuticles.

He gives your thighs a small squeeze, shaking his head. “Nonsense. They’re just right,” he murmurs, pecking the apex of either thigh, before parting them slightly to kiss the inner muscle. “Love holdin’ them just like this. And they keep my head warm, don’t they?”

A wave of heat crashes over your cheeks. “Kyle!” You give the top of his head a light smack.

He snickers, lying his cheek on your right thigh. “Y’didn’ answer my question, love.”

You sigh, head tipping to the side on your pillow bashfully. “Yes, they do…”

He hums with approval before moving up again. Settling between your legs, thighs pressed against yours, he leans down to kiss your cheek. His palms slid under the hem of your shirt before resting on your stomach. You suck in at the initial contact, before slowly letting loose. “What about this?”

You sniffle. “I-It’s too big, and… and it has rolls.”

His hands drag to hold your hips, thumbs brushing either side just before your navel. “Do y’wanna know what that means, baby?”

“What?” you whisper, reaching up to card through his fresh, dry curls.

“It means I’m taking good care of you,” he replies, his smile widening. “Living proof that I’m giving you the care you need, and enough food in the kitchen, to keep you nice n’ healthy.” You feel your heart melt with every syllable, though the doubt still gnaws at your frontal lobe.

Your hands rest on his shoulders. “B-But… but there’s too much fat…”

“No, no, sweet’art. This?” His hands glide to your stomach, running over your flesh reverently. “This is life, baby. What kind of boyfriend would I be to keep you skinny as a rail, hm?”

“A bad one…” You reply softly.

“Tha’s my baby,” he croons, hands leaving your stomach and gently tugging your shirt back down over your skin. Before he can move up again, your hands slide down to his chiseled pecs.

“But wh-what about this?” Your words leave too quickly, strained. His eyes followed your hands before returning to your face with a softness that was too familiar.

“This—” He holds himself up with one palm, while the other presses onto your hand, holding it above his heart. “I worked really hard for. Do y'wanna know why?”

Your fingers twitch against his skin. “Your job…?”

“Not just for m'job, sweet’art.” He shakes his head. “It’s also so I can keep you safe. So I can come home and fight all the nightmares, bad people, and flaws you see.”

"It is?" you echo dumbly. He runs his thumb over your knuckles.

"It is," he affirms. "And y'know what your job is?"

You blink up at him in question.

"Your job is to sit, look pretty, and love me eeevery single day. Take care of me as I do for you, okay?" His lips split into a loving smile, taking your hand off his chest to give each knuckle a soft kiss.

You give him a subtle nod, your gaze lingering on his plush lips pecking your delicate skin. "Okay..."

He hums, flopping onto his side next to you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to his chest as he did before. He leans back far enough to get a good look at your face. "Now, what about this, hm?"

"Um... I don't think my nose is the right shape. A-And my cheeks are too big..." You mumble, eyes meeting his own.

"Well, your nose is perfect," he replies, an arm wrapping from your back to raise his hand to your face. He taps the tip of your nose before cupping your cheek in his palm. "Y'need this so you can smell perfume samples at the shop, yeah?"

"Mhm..." You hum, nuzzling into his hand.

"And so I know which ones to buy for you," he adds, kissing the bridge of your nose. "And so you can smell the meals I make for you, too."

Your lips curl sheepishly, and you nod once in response.

He thumbs your cheekbone, eyes glued to your own. "And this? Plenty of skin to love, squeeze, pinch..." His hand leaves your cheek, instead grasping the flesh between his index and thumb, and giving it a small wiggle.

You whimper, and you swear he could feel the warmth that draped along your face at his words.

"Aaand to kiss." He releases your skin, replacing his digits with his lips to peck your cheek.

Your eyes close briefly, tipping your head into his kiss.

While one hand rubs your back, the other cradles the back of your scalp, guiding you to rest your head against his collarbone. "Is there anything else, love?"

You shake your head once. "No..."

"Did anything I tell you mean something?" he asks quietly, kissing the top of your head.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. "That you love me..."

"Mhm?" he hums, his hand leaving your head briefly to tug the bed sheets back up to cover both of you, trapping your combined heat under the linen duvet.

"All of me," you correct yourself, and he makes a noise of approval, throat vibrating against your forehead.

"All of you," he croons, arms squeezing you before relaxing.

You sigh longingly, settling into his embrace. You start to feel hazy, drowsiness creeping up the back of your neck to slip into your ears. "Kyle?"

"Yes?"

"M'tired... Will you hold me?" Your voice is hardly above a whisper.

"Of course, sweet'art. Like every night," he replies, nuzzling against your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too..." You mumble, eyes falling shut under the weight of your languor.

While the beast of insecurity still clawed at the wrinkles of your mind, Kyle's words shoved it into the very corner.

And you know that if it decides to rear its ugly head once more, and cast you into a shadow of doubt, Kyle will be there to pull you into the light of his devotion.

© clancycatears 2025. do not copy, steal, translate, or feed my works to ai.

[myownwholewildworld]

i have the urge to share this snippet of old man!joel miller because you all are way too nice and i am indeed way too feral rn... hoping to post the rest this weekend 👀 enjoy xx

edit: it's out, READ NOW !!!

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to look at you. “Oh, it’s okay, baby,” you replied reassuringly, your tone too sweet for the circumstances you both were in. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, forcing his hand out of his face. “This just proves how much you love me, so much you can’t even resist me. It’s hot.” Joel finally had the courage to look you in the eye, a cocked brow showing his disbelief. “Hot? You think it’s hot I just came in my boxers with a lil’ tugging?” he repeated out loud, unable to believe what you just had said. “I’m not even hard, sweetheart. It’s… humiliating.” You nodded to his question, your top teeth sinking in your plump bottom lip. Your eyes locked in on his as your hand travelled down his frame, your thumb stroking the obvious wet spot in his underwear. “Mhm,” you cooed with a playful grin. “Very hot, not humiliating. And I can fix that. Fix him so we can have a good cuddle.” “I don’t think I can…” you silenced him with a kiss before you got up from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen without another word. A minute later you were back, towering above him with a sinful little smirk, one hand hidden behind your back. “Open your mouth,” you requested. “Huh?” “Just open it for me, please?” you dragged the last word, blinking rather exaggeratedly. Joel huffed his disagreement, but ended up obeying. His tongue slid out, patiently waiting for whatever you had in mind. With a flourish, you opened your fist to reveal a blue pill. His eyes lighted up in understanding—he thought he had run out of viagra. “I always keep a secret stock,” you confessed, reading his mind. “For emergencies only.” Slowly, you set the pill down on his tongue, your thumb caressing the tip of his wet muscle before you retreated to let him close his mouth. Before Joel could swallow, you bowed down to kiss him, your tongue pushing the pill down his throat with a little needy moan. His Adam’s apple bobbed, the pill secure in his belly now. It was just a matter of time, but meanwhile… “Let me make it up to you, sweetheart,” he growled, the taste of your sweet cunt haunting him. “You deserve to be eaten out—so thoughtful of your old man. It’s what you enjoy most, right? Having your swollen pussy drooling all over my face, leaking into my mouth…”

[chrepsi]

──     ୨୧   !　M.S V DAY HARD LAUNCH | INSTAGRAM

singer!reader x matt

IN WHICH ; y/n and matt have been in a private relationship for the past few months, deciding to announce it to the public on valentines day <3

WARNINGS ; matt making a freaky comment, but besides that, none:))

A/N ; this is my first time making smt like this so sorry if its not the best lmfao. im also severely dyslexic so apologies if there are any gramatical / spelling errors !

liked by madisonbeer, nicolassturniolo and 559,702 others

matthew.sturniolo my valentine💗

view all 62,330 comments

sturn.obsessed y/n dont steal my man 😞

sturnz.yn06 IDK IF I WANNA BE MATT OR Y/N

y/n.y/l/n idk what i would do without you❤️😭u mean the WORLD to me u dont understand

matthew.sturniolo I LOVE YOU MORE. y/n.y/l/n NUH UH

nicolassturniolo the pink heart was a bit of a gay move

matthew.sturniolo stfu

y/n.y/l/n I TOLD YOU TO DELETE THAT SECOND PHOTO YOU BITCH >:((

christophersturniolo i love how y/n's shoes are drastically cleaner than urs LMFOAO

sturniol04 'drastically' thats a big word for u christopher

y/nfan4 I'M GOING INSANE

nicolassturniolo ugh i love you guys

madisonbeer my babies🤍🥹

liked by taylorswift, oliviarodrigo and 4,290,091 others

y/n.y/l/n i don’t know what on earth i did to deserve the most handsome, sweet, funny and perfect valentine❤️i genuinely don’t know where i would be in life if your brother never introduced us—you are such a light in my life. happy valentine’s day to my perfect boyfriend UGHHH you’re so cute i wanna throw a rock at you🤧❤️

view all 998,401 comments

oliviarodrigo SO HAPPY FOR YALLL

y/n.fan7 pls dont ever break up yall are the cutest🤧

matthew.sturniolo why do u wanna throw a rock at me :(

y/n.y/l/n its not my choice the cuteness aggression takes over

y/n.sturnzz this cannot be real holy shit

matthew.sturniolo for all those fuckers; just because i wrote less words than y/n doesn’t mean i love her any less than she loves me❤️

nicolassturniolo y/n can u come over soon i miss u 🤧 (don’t bring matt tho pls pls PLS)

matthew.sturniolo at least i dont have to ask her to cum nicolassturniolo MATTHEW WHAT matthew.sturniolo 🫢🫢🫢

ariana_greenblatt MOTHER AND FATHER

sturn.38 am i the only one who noticed matt drinking wine?? i thought he was sober

sturniolo.fan278 OMFGGGGGG LIFE IS SUDDENLY WORTH LIVING

A/N ; hope u guys enjoyed :ppp if u want to be added to my taglist, lmk in my inbox or reply to this post!! luv ya x

A/N #2 ; im re-reading this rn and am just now realising how often i use the 🤧 emoji lmfao

TAGLIST ; @trevorsgodmother @mxnsonn @pr3ttylittleslutt @v4lsturn @wildfluer @delilahsturns @lailasnight @courta13 @kisses4chris @chrispycremedonut @chrisspussygang @stvrloghost 

divider creds - @bernardsbendystraws & @sisterlucifergraphics

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | twelve.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, lotsa talk goin around, mostly focused on namjoon lol, i'ma tell yall rn - cant trust nobody!!, everyone is just onto san x oc but for the wrong asssss reasons, joon loves his 'yes or no' questions lmao, again - i promise you there is no ill intentions behind namjoon's actions - he is trying to see both sides but he has to do what he needs to do as a department chair first & foremost!! pls understand my guy.. he had to think quick!

Today, it feels like everyone is staring at you.

Today, it feels like everyone knows, and everyone is projecting their assumptions about you and San out into the world.

"You okay?" Eunchae looks down at you as you walk and avoid contact, keeping your eyes down on your feet below or your phone. "You're awfully quiet today." Maybe word hasn't gotten to Eunchae, Jurin or Felix yet, but you know it'll eventually make its way over.

Or, maybe they have heard and they're just waiting for you.

All you know is that you wanna hide under your blankets to prevent all this overthinking, this anxiety from feeling like everyone is watching you.

"Yeah. Just tired."

"You sure? I'm all ears, you know."

"Mhm." You give her a small reassuring smile as you tug on your bag. "Thank you."

"Course."

"Have you heard from Jiung today?" You ask. You haven't really talked to Jiung since your fight at the happy hour event, and he hasn't done much to talk to you either. It's a bit awkward, but whenever you and your friends are all together, you try to keep the peace and act like nothing is wrong. You do hope he's okay, and you do hope to have your bestfriend back— but you're still upset at the fact that he jumped to conclusions about San and accused him of forcing you into this.

"No. But, he did say he probably wasn't gonna grab lunch cause he needs to take care of some things."

"I see."

"I'll see you for lunch though, right?" You nod, just as the Biology building comes into view. "Goodluck with class today." 

"Thanks." You squeeze her hand before heading inside for class. Luckily, Yunho said he wouldn't be able to join class today. You weren't really in the mood to deal with him, and you're more so worried about getting through class in one piece before your mind tears you apart with all this overthinking. 

"Morning Y/N!" A student already sitting in the classroom says. You're instantly comforted as you greet them back and start getting set up at the front of the classroom. But, that instantly goes down the drain when two more students walk in together— eyeing you as they pass the front table before talking amongst each other.

Fuck.

You haven't heard from San either.

The world truly felt like it was swallowing you whole.

—FLASHBACK

"Hey! I'm back." You smile at Sunwoo as you place your things down at your desk. It instantly fades when you get a chance to look around the basement office, a few of your lab members talking amongst themselves while looking in your direction. You slightly furrow your brows, wondering what exactly they were talking about or why they felt the need to be doing all of that in your face.

Was everyone in on you and San?

Is this what everything has come to?

"Hey you!" Sunwoo looks up, noticing the shift in your mood. He turns to look at everyone, shaking his head before returning his attention towards you. At this point, everyone has returned to their desks or left the room to head into the behavior or wet lab rooms. "You good?"

"Hm." You hum. "I guess."

"You guess? How was the conference?"

"Good! It was chill. Jotted down a few presentations I wanted to share with you and Belle. Is she around?" He shakes his head.

"Haven't seen her."

"Hm, okay."

"You can tell me, I'm all ears." You look at your watch.

"I gotta run behavior soon."

"So, let's grab something quick to eat before you run behavior?"

"I'm down. Kinda starving anyway."

"Yeah, let's get something in you. You won't be able to focus otherwise." He stands and stretches before nodding towards the door. "So, what was the most interesting?" You follow behind him with your wallet clutched in hand, lingering eyes watching as you leave with Sunwoo.

"Maybe she's trying to get around the lab?" You overhear one of the guys say just as you walk out of the room with Sunwoo, pausing in your steps.

"Sunwoo."

"Huh?"

"Actually, you know what. I think I can hang on until dinner. I should get started on behavior. We can talk about this another time."

"Huh? No, let's get something really quick."

"You can go ahead without me. Sorry. I just realized I'm more strapped on time than I thought I was."

"Okay? But, I'm grabbing you a snack and you better eat it." He slowly starts walking backwards down the basement hallway, glaring at you.

"Thank you." Sunwoo watches as your head falls when you walk back into the basement office. Truth be told, he's been hearing the talk go around, but he's not one to meddle— especially if it has something to do with his good friends. He'll always be on your side, regardless of what people say or think.

And he feels awful it's starting to be more obvious around you. The talk. The looks.

He wishes he could do more as your friend to help keep it away from you.

—END

Namjoon is already having a rough start to his day despite it being one of the lighter days meeting-wise. He was woken up to an urgent, sensitive email from the dean about an anonymous tip that came in overnight about San:

Namjoon— Please get to the bottom of this; we received this tip last night about San and his student.  'Hi. I'm not sure who to direct this concern to anonymously, but I believe Y/N Y/L/N and Professor Choi (San) are in an inappropriate relationship. I think she might be using it to her advantage to move forward in the program and secure her spot in his lab.' I'd like to resolve this before the end of the week. This should not be taken lightly if this is true...

And the thing is— he's just frustrated that this has been taking up this time lately. He hasn't even gotten his own time to think properly. He could only sigh in disappointment as he got ready for his day, unsure of what else it could bring him. 

He should've known the storm was coming.

Iseul tugs on her jacket as she heads over to the Panama Building, the wind cooling her cheeks as she made sure to clear her hour for this particular meeting. Most students are in class right now, so the halls are quiet, still. Iseul takes the elevator up to the second floor and steps out, rushing down towards the left end of the hall.

"Namjoon." Namjoon turns over his shoulder to see Iseul. His door is wide open since he doesn't have any important meetings for awhile, and he always tries to foster a welcoming environment by letting students [and faculty] know they're always welcome to pop in if they need him.

He did not mean her though, especially today.

"Iseul."

"Can we talk?" Namjoon quickly sizes her, realizing she's already inside his office. He doesn't necessarily have a choice, but he knows this talk was gonna happen sooner or later.

He knows Iseul always has something to say.

"You're already in my office so I don't think there's necessarily a choice." He says it in a slightly playful manner just so he doesn't come off entirely rude. "What's on your mind?" Iseul shuts the door and crosses her arms before looking at him. Namjoon sits on the edge of his desk, hands loosely clasped together.

"I think you might already know." He shrugs.

"Enlighten me."

"San."

"What about him?"

"Can you let him know how dangerous it is to be dating his rotation student? He's being stupid."

"He's a grown man."

"And you're the chair."

"Thanks for the reminder." He furrows his brows. "Respectfully Iseul, this is not a discussion for you, that's why I'm not trying to indulge."

"How is this not? He's putting his reputation on the line, along with the school's. Including yours—"

"I don't see where you're involved. You don't have anything to do with him directly or the bioengineering department." He crosses his arms and stands. "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, but this wasn't your place to do so. I'll handle it and I'll take care of it, so you don't need to worry." Namjoon glares at her a bit. 

"You're being so casual about something pretty severe." Namjoon pauses as he maintains his eye contact with her. She wants him to shrink and fold, but he won't.

"I think we both know that's not the reason why you're bringing this up." Her brows are knit tightly as they sit in an awkward, tense pause. "Aren't you tired of treating San this way? Why exactly do you feel so strongly about calling him out?"

"I'm not even doing anything to him—"

"You're right, you're not. You don't respect him, you don't acknowledge him, you don't know how to be civil with him. Yet, you don't see me calling you out on your behavior towards your ex-husband who has done nothing but try and keep the peace. I only ever hear San's name come out of your mouth when you've got something bad to say about him." She glares at him. As much as Namjoon equally tries to be there for all of the faculty and to not choose sides, one thing that can surely piss him off is when people act this way unwarranted.

So no, he won't sit back if he feels the hostility. He understands the severity of the situation and he has yet to gather his thoughts and his information, but he won't take this.

"So, you're gonna let this go? Do you even actually understand the situation, Namjoon? If you won't take care of it, I'll have no choice but to escalate this to the dean."

"I do, plenty. You don't have to tell me twice or how to do my job, Iseul." He walks over to the door. "I already said I'll take care of it. On my own terms and in my own way. Not the way you want me to." He places a hand on his hip. "And what makes you think we haven't already discussed this?"

"Fine. If that girl ruins everything for the school—"

"She won't." Namjoon cuts her off just as he swings the door open. "This will be taken care of, end of story. Is there anything else I can help you with that doesn't involve San and his personal matters?"

"No." She huffs a bit before walking out of the room. At this point, Jiung is cutting the corner and almost running into Iseul as he makes his way to Namjoon's office. Jiung does a curt bow to Iseul as she storms by, heels clicking away on the linoleum floor. Her feet are heavy, Jiung feels every step even as she gets further and further away.

"Oh, Jiung. Nice to see a friendly face." Namjoon lets out a breath and gives him a toothless smile. 

"Professor Kim." Jiung gives him a bow. "Are you free right now?"

"Mhm." He steps aside. "Just finished with Professor Lee. Come on in." He welcomes him inside, a bit relieved to see his face and to be welcomed by his gentle aura. It's nothing like Iseul and he's grateful; although, it does make him a little nervous to see Jiung in his office when he doesn't necessarily belong to the department. 

And just like Iseul, the buzz around campus, everything that's been going down— Namjoon already feels like he knows what this is about.

The only thing he can do is confront it and take care of it just like he told Iseul he'd do. But, how? He's not sure. He's gonna have to take the time today to sit San down and poke at his brain because he's just not understanding how all of this went down and why his name and your name are being tossed around together.

Maybe he just didn't wanna believe it was true; not with San, no. He couldn't. Both as his friend and colleague.

"What can I help with? I'm a little surprised you're popping into my office since you're in the electrical engineering department."

"Ah, cause.." Jiung slowly sits in the chair and sets his bag down. "It doesn't necessarily have anything to do with me." Namjoon cocks his head to the side.

"Okay, no worries. I'm all ears."

"I-I don't really know how to say this, but I'm mainly concerned about a friend. She's in the bioengineering department."

"I think I might know what you're talking about." Namjoon says, giving Jiung a nod to proceed with his explanation.

"Yeah, it's that. I feel like Professor Choi might have forced her into it, though. It just seems really out of character for Y/N, and I don't know. I guess it just feels like he might have said something or tried to take advantage of her."

"I understand your concern for your friend, but can you let me know why you think Professor Choi is taking advantage of her or forcing her into this?"

"I just.. it just seems off, is all."

"But, what if this is also Y/N's choice?"

"It's not like her."

"I'm not saying you don't know your friend, Jiung. But, there are things people are fully capable of doing that can come off as unexpected from your point of view."

"I talked to her after the whole happy hour thing went down and I found Professor Choi kinda cornering her against the wall. She didn't look scared or anything, but she did get defensive while I was talking to her and asking her about it."

"I see." Is all Namjoon says because one, he just doesn't know. Just like he told Jiung, there are probably things he doesn't know San is capable of doing. He needs to talk to him and that's the only way he'll get the proper story. The only way to get to the bottom of it is finally confronting San about the issue at hand. 

Face to face.

To be honest, he's been putting off the conversation because it's not a conversation he wants to have. It's not easy, nor will the decision at the end be something he wants to do— but he has to.

"I'm sorry, Professor Kim. I don't mean to add to your plate, but I got worried."

"Is Y/N doing okay otherwise?" He nods.

"Think so. She hasn't been saying much. We got into a fight after I confronted her so we haven't been talking."

"Sorry to hear that. I'm sure things will smooth over sooner or later." Namjoon says. "Is there anything else you'd like to let me know?"

"No, that's all. I'm sorry I don't have much details, I'm just worried about her."

"All good, I understand. I'm sure she appreciates it, too. She's lucky to have a friend like you by her side."

"Thanks, Professor Kim. For hearing me out."

"Sure. I'll take care of it and see what I can do, okay?" Jiung nods and stands, slipping his bag strap over his shoulder.

"Can we keep this between us? Please don't mention that I stopped by."

"Of course." Namjoon says softly as he stands to walk him to the dior. "Of course." He repeats.

"Thanks."

"I just can't promise you I'll have any updates cause it'll be pretty confidential moving forward."

"It's fine. I get it." Jiung stops right before he steps out the door. "Thank you again."

"No problem. You know how to reach me if you have any other concerns." Jiung nods before slipping through the door and taking his exit. Namjoon exhales heavily before pulling out his phone to text the person he needs—

namjoon: can we talk in my office? i'd rather much do this today, not later. 

namjoon: i'm free for the next hour and half.

san: yeah. i'll be there in 15 minutes.

namjoon: thanks.

He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to gather his thoughts. It's the hardest thing to approach this as a colleague rather than a friend because as a friend, Namjoon would let this go. He knows San deserves to be happy, and it sounds like he is. That's all he's ever wanted for him especially after all the hurt and pain he had gone through with Iseul and Yunho. But as a colleague, his 'higher-up' even, it's wrong. San's happiness is wrong because it's with his student. A student who is a grown adult who can make decisions for themselves. It's wrong.

So, what does he do?

He feels a migraine coming on, so he tries to busy himself with some emails, making sure deadlines and reports have been submitted. Luckily, the dean is giving him some time and isn't pressing him for answers right this second even though he knows it's on his mind. If he was, Namjoon wasn't sure what he'd say.

He's not sure how he'll get San out of this.

"Yo." San appears in his office, softly shutting the door behind him. 

"Take a seat." San immediately picks up on the vibe in the room and how stressed Namjoon looks. He knows they still need to talk about things, but something tells San it's become much deeper than that and he's not prepared for it whatsoever. No matter how hard he tried to prepare, there's no proper way to be fully prepared.

"You okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know." He sits back a bit, hands clasped on the surface of the table. "But, I'm just gonna get right to it because I think this is way overdue."

"Okay." San manages to respond softly.

"We need to talk about what happened at the happy hour event the other day, plus that whole thing with Iseul and Yunho." Namjoon pauses before he cuts to the chase. "San, why do I keep getting wind of you being in a relationship with your rotation student?" Silence. "Y/N, to be exact." He looks at him. "Is that what the whole happy hour thing was about? Is that what you three were discussing in the conference room yesterday?" He sighs. "I was try to push this off a little longer until I could figure out how to get you out of this, but word keeps going around and it definitely didn't help that you three had a screaming match about it." San sighs heavily as he sinks into the chair.

"Well, as far as I know, I wasn't planning on discussing my personal matters with Yunho and Iseul. They trapped me into the fucking—"

"San." Namjoon stops him. "Is it a yes or no?" Pause. San just looks at Namjoon and it's enough for him to put the final piece together. Everything had been about you from the get-go, but San still won't say it. He's doing everything to protect you, but this might be it; there's no way he can lie to Namjoon about this, or hide this from him any longer.

It's far too late for that.

"San." He repeats. "This is not the time to try and lie to me. I had two people talk to me about it and an anonymous tip came in that was sent my way."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter." Namjoon furrows his brows and lets out a heavy exhale. "I need the truth from you. Now." The exasperated sigh that leaves San's lips is full of emotions; fear, anxiety, protectiveness, even.

"I'm sorry." Is all San can respond with. It comes out low, barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Namjoon cocks his head to the side, hands on his hips. "Why? I just wanna know why!" His voice is harsh, but he keeps his tone low. "A student, your student? It's damn near everywhere, you know that, right? I don't know how I'm gonna fix this for you, but you know they'll take action against her and probably you—"

"Namjoon, please." San pleads. "Please don't do this to her. Don't take her out of the program. Do whatever you need to me, but don't take it out on her."

"San." Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose before letting out an exasperated sigh. "You should've known better." He looks at him, but San can't even respond. All he can do is shrug and shake his head because he did know better, he just didn't wanna do better and chose to be selfish. "I need to figure this out before end of the day and report back to the dean. I can't force you to act a certain way or do things you don't wanna do. But, for this reason in particular, I'm gonna need you two to stop. You're not interacting with her on campus, you're not going to be involved in anything having to do with her moving forward." Namjoon shakes his head. "You both couldn't wait until graduation or something? I know it's years ahead but you know how this looks—"

"I— no. Things just happened. That's really the only way I can explain it. I'm sorry. The hell am I supposed to do? I can't help but feel how I feel for her." Namjoon sighs heavily, feeling torn between wanting his friend to be happy, but concerned and disappointed for his colleague.

"That isn't gonna fly. You knew better than to get involved with a student in your lab. You can't just risk everything you've built for yourself, San. You have no idea how much trouble you could get into if the school finds out just exactly how deep your relationship has gotten with her— let alone, your own rotation student!" His tone slight rises, but it falls when he sees San visibly shrink and lose eye contact with him. He paces around for a bit, hands still on his hips as he tries to figure out a way to brush this over before it gets way too messy and complicated. "I get you. I do. You deserve to be happy, and who the hell am I to police your actions? But, I can't have you do this to yourself or her. The both of you are grown so I expected you to do better."

"So, what's gonna happen?"

"Well, I'll need to let them know this isn't true and that you two aren't in a relationship. I'll have to remove her from your lab and I'll need to figure out where I can place her or what I can do for her." 

"They won't kick her out, right?"

"Honestly, I can't even be sure. I don't think so, but you two will definitely not be allowed to be near or around each other." Namjoon looks at him. "Are you not even worried about yourself?"

"No, I'm not."

"She's worth it to you?"

"More than anything." San says softly. "Look, it's cliché but you really don't understand." Namjoon shrugs.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I don't wanna take your happiness away, San. Believe me. That's the last thing I wanna do and this is already difficult as is. But, it just had to be her?"

"It did, yeah. And there's nothing I regret about it." Another small silence falls between them before Joon speaks up again.

"Do you get where people are taking this?"

"No, quite frankly, I don't."

"Favoritism, like you two are taking advantage of each other for benefits. It's becoming so noticeable that people are talking."

"You and I both know how great of a student she is. If she's received opportunities, it's because she earned them herself, not because of me."

"That's not how it looks. And perception matters. You know this. Relationships like this are literally a ticking time bomb for your career, the bioengineering department." He's gonna use the excuse that Iseul pulled because for him, as department chair, as someone who needs to keep the glue together for this department, it's true. 

"I don't even see how we're doing anything wrong when we're both adults. She and I both know what this is—"

"That doesn't matter in this situation. There's a power dynamic here you can't ignore. Even if this is real, you hold her future in your hands. Do you understand?" Joon exhales, brows tightly knit together. "What about her fate in this whole situation? Do you care about that?"

"Of course I do. I care about her more than anything." San responds almost exasperatedly.

"Do you love her?"

"If I say yes?"

"Then, tell me. If you had to choose between your relationship or keeping her here, then what?" San sighs and runs his hand down his face. "Think about it. You deserve to be happy, but that girl also deserves a chance to keep going."

"Why can't we just keep it on the low, why do I have to choose? W-we can be more careful—"

"San, don't be stupid. I'm sure 'being careful' is how this all started, right?" Silence. "You know people are going to find out one way or another. It won't matter how real this is to you, to the both of you. She'll be branded as the professor's pet. Is that what you want for her? And you'll lose everything—your job, your reputation, ability to work at other institutions. Plus, the dean is still thinking about your program with Jongho and the real estate. This is going to trickle onto Jongho, too."

"No, of course not. And I don't want Jongho to take a fall because of me. But.." San sighs, his heart breaking the more this conversation goes on. He wasn't prepared to be here today, no. And he wasn't prepared for his mind to start thinking otherwise about your relationship, you. He was always sure of you, but now he's starting to feel like he's been too selfish;

Neglected you and your future plans. Your dreams, your goals.

"You're asking me to break this off. To break off my relationship with someone I truly care about and someone that genuinely makes me happy. Something I haven't felt in a long time."

"I'm sorry, San. I already told you how difficult this is, and it's not my intention to take your happiness away. I just need to protect you two from everyone, especially the dean. Please understand me and hear me. I'm asking you to protect her this way. If anything happens, it'll be the both of you going down and you know she doesn't deserve that either. "

"And If I don't do this?" San asks just to put the question out there.

"Then, can you call it love? Or is it just you being selfish?" San leans onto his knees, head falling into his hands. "I'm trying to come from a good place. Help me help you." He feels a headache coming on, thoughts running at a thousand miles per hour. He hates the thought of losing you; it makes him sick to his stomach. But, he can't even lie and say there isn't a piece of truth behind Namjoon's words. 

Can San really say he loves you if he isn't doing the right thing for you? Is he being too selfish, assuming he could keep this on the low? Assuming he could be 'more' careful with you?

Is he selfish for wanting you by his side no matter what? Is he selfish for saying fuck it?

Is he selfish?

The last thing he wants to do is ruin your career, ruin you. Even if this will hurt like hell, he understands where Namjoon is coming from and knows he needs to put you first.

He's so conflicted. He has no idea what to do or how to move forward. Because as much as he knows he needs to do this for you and the sake of Namjoon, he doesn't want to.

He is scared.

"I need to head back to my office." San sighs and stands, but Namjoon follows closely.

"I don't have much time. I need to let them know that something is gonna be done and I need to prove it to them. You do hear me, right?"

"I do. I just.. give me a little bit of time to think, Joon. Please." Namjoon just nods, meeting San's expression. He feels bad, he really does. And as his friend, this isn't something he wants to do— but he has to. He could easily tell San to keep this on the low, to keep this a secret until things blow over but at some point, he doesn't trust himself to continue along with the story had anyone asked about it out of the blue.

Namjoon watches as San sadly walks off back to his office, eyes trained on the phone in his hand. San sees your texts, and usually, that'll be enough to put a smile on his face. He'll text back right away so you know he's been thinking about you; but today, he's thinking about you in a different light and he's not sure how to stomach it.

When he gets back to his office, he sees a few people from the lab lingering around— even you. You meet his eyes and his eyes meet yours, but he doesn't give you a smile.

His eyes don't glow like they used to.

His cheeks aren't threatening to glow that cute, rosy tint they do when you're around.

He just steps in without doing anything to acknowledge your presence and that already feels way off.

you: 😞 you didn't even look my way when you walked back into the office and i haven't heard from you all day.

you: i hate how all my papers and presentations are due this week. plus ppl have been weird, idk. i just wanna cuddle 😭

san: i'm sorry. it's just been a day.

you: that's never stopped you before... ☹️ what's wrong, san?

san: we should talk, baby.

—read 12.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

-

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

-

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?” 

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

-

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

-

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

-

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