#finding out the casting news at the end of my lunch break is so funny to me

[olderthanthegods]

Luke turned to Kronos because his dead beat dad wouldn’t stop writing musicals send tweet

[starseneyes]

Can we see some of your acting work? I really think that would be enjoyable.--new reader who just started binging your discovery of a witch recaps

Hey there, Anon! A lot of my performing has been theater-based, so not a lot of videos of that. From Shakespeare to Musical Theater, I've done a lot of different things.

For over 20 years, I've been a Voice Over artist doing commercials, book readings, in-store announcements, and the likes. It's a lot of fun! A lot of voices. A lot of characters. A lot of accents.

I do have links to some of my old commercials and one Sesame Street book I read with half a dozen character voices that's on YouTube. But that's vocal-only.

The most recent thing I've done television-wise was that episode of WICKED ATTRACTION (Dial 123) that I mentioned shooting if you go back through the archives. Had the opportunity to play a femme fatale out of NOWHERE. I was brought in initially to be the silent friend for two scenes, but the day I arrived they recast me as the lead. I had only read the two scenes I was supposed to be in, so THAT was a quick ramp-up (and a lot of making out with guys and trying to learn their names before someone said "action"). There are a few places you can find it online, but not for free. I tried to link to Hulu, but it won't even allow THAT without a premium subscription, which I lack.

After that shoot, I ended up taking an acting break to battle infertility for many years (which required my life to revolve around the calendar of fertility and surgeries/procedures/medications/tests, etc). I realized if I couldn't trust a Chipotle lunch to last in the cast/crew freezer, I probably couldn't trust the shots, pills, and suppositories I needed to take would be safe there.

I now have three INCREDIBLE kids (all IUI babies), and last year we finally made the big move we've been trying to make since before the Pandemic. So, I'm at a point where I can hit "Play" again on performing.

In the meantime, I've done table reads for friends on Twitter who are screenwriters, and I've had a LOT of fun with that. It's been a great way to keep performing alive while the world's been on fire.

Writing friends found out I was an actress, and asked me if I wanted to get involved. I was able to get my feet wet with table reads—which are basically like self-tape auditions, but with more lag time because you actually have to wait for another person's internet connection to take your turn talking.

Now, Zoom has gotten a LOT better, but the pauses are still crushing, so be fair-warned should you choose to click through these (I've cued them up to where I come in).

The first one I ever did was for THE HARVESTING PART I and THE HARVESTING PART II as Kelly Ford. It was really funny because nobody told me she needed an English accent until I got to the first rehearsal, but I'd already sorted it from some of the dialogue. There were some really lovely moments in here, and it was my first introduction to doing this type of thing. It was an intense four hours, though.

Later, I had the chance to play Nikks, a fast-talking, gum-chewing, New Jersey-raised cop for my friend's modern-noir, ARBITRAGE. It was a LOT of fun playing an over-the-top character for that one. I remember at our first meeting, I gave him a taste of what I was thinking and asked him if it was too much. Turns out that was exactly what he wanted, and it was fun to go wild.

Then I had to pull it WAY back for another friend's THE ASPERN PAPERS. It was stylized dialogue, which is a lot of fun, but a more subdued character than any other Table Read I've done. Tina was my main role, and she was meant to be fairly expressionless for most of the script. I was in dual roles for that one, too, and it was a lot of fun flipping between them, one a little more boisterous and the other far more reserved.

I played several roles in THE PIRATE PRINCESS, including the Queen for the bulk of the show. But toward the beginning I played two small characters back to back (a teacher, and a young girl) and I HAD to work in a quick change. Can't take the theater girl out! The Queen I played with a Queen's English accent, which is always killer to nail, and a lot of fun. There's also a gravitas to the role—playing someone with far more life experience than I, while commanding the attention of a room. It was a joy. I had thought there was a video link available, but in compiling this list, I can't find it... I shall update this if I'm able to locate it later!

The craziest was when I served as Narrator for my friend's script THE GIRL SCOUT while I had a sore throat and running nose. The Director messaged me DURING the recording that she wanted me to stay on-camera the whole time. I hadn't told her that I was sick because I came down with a cold the day of the read and thought I'd have breaks for gulps of water and nose wipes during heavy dialogue... NOPE. It was a LOT of fun, but pretty dang crazy. You'd THINK it'd be boring as a Narrator, but the Director wanted me to set the pace and tone, and that was a blast.

All of those titles (save THE PIRATE PRINCESS) are links to the Table Reads if you REALLY want to see me act! There are some others that I've done, but it starts to get repetitive or they're HUGELY stylized characters with few lines (I played a re-animated, creepy doll in one, for example).

I will forever love acting. The past few years have been chaotic for us, so there's been no space for auditions and shows. But, that's all starting to change this summer, and I'm excited for the opportunities!

If you enjoy acting, Anon, then you know the fun of learning a character inside and out, finding what makes them tick, slipping that skin on over your own while finding the unexpected places where you and they might meet and coexist.

I do a lot of theater because that's what's available here in Virginia. There aren't a lot of film and television opportunities, but that's always been my favorite to perform.

I grew up on film sets, you see. My mother's a hair and makeup artist, and when I was so badly bullied I was falling apart, she would write a sick note and take me on set.

Growing up in Wilmington, NC, the business was all around us in the 80's and 90's. Simply put, being on set felt safe compared to being in school. It's a place where I come alive, and every time I have the chance to be on one, it's like coming home.

This is probably a FAR more long-winded answer than you expected, but if you're reading my DISCOVERY OF WITCHES blogs, then you know I can be verbose! I actually hadn't compiled these Table Reads all together, before, and forgot how much I was able to do in a short amount of time while we were moving and navigating the Pandemic.

Thanks for the ask. Thanks for reading! And thanks for taking me on a fun trip down memory lane tonight. Be well.

[dragonsareourfuture]

Ways the Death Note Cast Show They Trust You

I lost some inspiration towards the middle there, I’m sorry!!

L

- he will always have Watari make extra servings of food just for you. It’s a bit startling at first. So suddenly there’s just food in front of you that you think is for L, but when you push it towards him, he pushes it right back to you.

“You don’t want it?” He’d ask, leaving you confused until you finally put the pieces together.

“Oh, I…I guess I didn’t realize it was for me. My bad.” You begin eating. “Thank you.”

L simply hums and continues with whatever he was just up to.

- You know that thing cats do where they’re sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, guard slightly down, but still not quite asleep? I can picture L doing something like this during any moment of downtime he gets. Just sitting, scrunched up in his chair or wherever he happens to be, eyes closed but the cogs in his brain are still turning. You notice him doing this when it is only you and him in the room, simply thinking it’s because of the moment of rare solitude. Little do you know, it’s because he trusts that you won’t hurt him or let anything bad happen to him.

- L is a person who prefers to be in charge of his own life. He likes knowing what’s going on around him at all times and when things are out of his hands he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. However, with a person he’s developed a close relationship with and knows he can trust with everything he has, L will feel more comfortable leaving decisions up to them. You’ll have to start small though, like being the one to plan a surprise date. He might feel a bit uncomfy at the beginning, shifting around and possibly even insisting he sit so that he can see the exits clearly, but he eases into it eventually. Soon you both find yourselves joking around in the odd way that you do and gorging on cake and ice cream.

Mello

- being vulnerable is something Mello isn’t too keen on. He already feels vulnerable most of the time and would kick himself if he let that show through his actions. If Mello truly trusts you, he will feel as though he can be vulnerable around you without any judgement on your end. Small acts that show vulnerability such as asking you to help him with something he can’t quite handle on his own — even if it’s something as simple as not being able to reach something off a shelf or being unsure about how to fix something. Eventually, he’ll work his way up to the bigger stuff like being physically wounded in front of you or having a mental block.

- Sharing his clothes with you or letting you pick his outfit for him. Now, it sounds like he’s just being a little diva and that’s only partially true. But his clothes are important to him, they’re a factor that sets him aside from his plain-dressing rival and in his eyes they make him more interesting than him, visually at least. He’s happy to dress you up, and it is true that he has to have a close relationship with you to want to do so, but you should be especially proud if he lets you alter his appearance in any way.

- He likes to believe that he’s had his goals set out from the beginning. Surpass Near, become the next L, and go on from there. What he pushes to the back of his brain are the moments he’s been studying and he’s asked himself ‘What if I went down a different path?’. He quickly pushes these thoughts away, but they keep coming back. What would life be like if this wasn’t an option for him? What if he were a writer? What if he lived in the city with people he loves and went to the movies every Friday? Unwillingly, he has a whole list of possibilities. If he truly trusts you, he’ll share every single one with you. Whether it’s dropping hints or confessing them one by one late at night, he can’t help but feel that they’re safe with you.

Misa

- it seems a bit surface level, but it’s true — Misa will talk down on Light in front of you if she trusts you. But it’s not straight away. She had developed a lot of courage to actually break up with him, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still doubt her decision to do so. It’s only when she finds out from you how loved ones are supposed to treat each other — with kindness and respect — that she feels her decision to ditch Light was the entirely right one. Slowly, she’ll start to admit to you all the things she hated about Light, starting with some of his mannerisms and building up to something like how he forced her to leave the entertainment business.

- Misa is…dramatic. She likes to go above and beyond for someone she’s infatuated with and make sure they’re the happiest they can be. If she trusts you enough to develop this kind of infatuation and, with some development, less of an obsession and more of a strong, bonding love, you will be doted on to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. You could be at home during one of her work days and you’ll get a delivery of lunch from your favorite takeout place because Misa was ‘thinking of you <3’, as she explains when you text her asking why food randomly showed up at your place. It’s rather sweet.

- Misa’s a pretty talkative person in general, that’s a well known fact. She’ll talk about clothes, a cute birdie she saw on her way home, really anything that comes to mind. But, she’ll do that with about anyone who’ll listen. It’s gradual, so it’s hard to notice, but if Misa grows to trust you she’ll start talking about some of the more serious things that have been on her mind for a while, those things that she thought would scare off anyone she liked because of how personal they are to her. Her family before they died, for example. It’s something that Misa thinks about. So much. But she doesn’t really talk about it. She wants to forget, put the past behind her but because she’s never talked about it with anyone it’s hard to do that. She’ll talk about her family to you, the little things her sister used to do and some things her parents did that she misses.

Matsuda

- Matsuda often begins to idolize those who he thinks are trustworthy and have a good heart. He starts to tell you how much he loves when you do x and that he wishes he could perform as well as you in that area. In a sense, he trusts you with his vulnerability, letting you know that he thinks of himself as less than satisfactory and how he wishes he could do better, only he channels it by pointing out good things about you. If…that makes sense.

- This sounds dire, but he’ll risk his life for the people he completely, without a doubt trusts. He was willing to do so with Chief Yagami, someone he saw as a father figure, and he would certainly be willing to do so with you, someone who he feels he has a deep emotional connection to. Whether you’re in a situation where he would need to or he’s just saying that he would, he means it.

- Matsuda trusts you to not make fun of him when he overshares or talks too much or anything his coworkers brush him off for. He feels that he can talk about things he finds funny and talk about his life without worrying about what you think of him when he does.

Matt

- he would drop everything to help you. Whether that’s dropping his game to help you kill a bug or leaving his duties behind to help you out of a life or death situation. Whichever scenario you happen to find yourself in he’s there no matter what.

- He’ll invite you into his personal life. I know this is kind of a given but Matt had the chance to become the next L. He had the chance to become something “great” and he said “ummm rather not” to it because it wasn’t something he wanted. If he shares this information with you, he trusts you not to leave him for something better when you discover the status he could have had and refused. He trusts you to appreciate him because of him and not the intelligence everyone but him cherishes.

- He leaves you alone around important technology and software he’s hacked. Unfortunately for him, betrayal comes with the business he’s got himself into and, if Matt really trusts you on both a professional and emotional level, he won’t have a problem worrying about whether or not you’ll take advantage of his coffee break to gather information for some other organization or something. He will literally just go “mkay babe I gotta go fuel up on caffeine real quick, you’re good watching the hacked government database right? Cool cya.”

Near

- Near trusts you to take him to public places. Sounds simple, yeah. But Near has never liked crowds, or even just too many strangers in a wide open place. It’s strange to everyone observing how one day he decides he needs a new toy, his old one having broken due to old age, and asks you to take him to the toy store. He’s questioned, people wondering why he wouldn’t rather you just go alone but Near insists. Apparently the toy that broke is special addition and he wants to make sure you get the right one. He stays close to you the whole way, not really saying much, but he’s there and that’s a big step for him.

- He helps you out with puzzles. Basically cheats for you. When he’s eyeing one specific empty slot, coughing lightly to get your attention, just know that he’s not helping you because he thinks you need it. Quite the opposite actually. With anyone else, he believes that they should be able to solve it on their own. He thinks that if they can’t, then that’s their fault. But with you…it’s as if he trusts that you’re intelligent enough without the puzzle being an indicator of that intelligence, so much so that he thinks the puzzle itself is obsolete when it comes to you. He doesn’t need a puzzle to know how smart you are.

- He’ll eat the foods you make him. Near’s picky eater-ness is above that of a child who only eats chicken tenders and pizza. He doesn’t eat that many people’s food because he knows it’s probably not he way he likes it. But with you, he trusts that you respect his eating habits and know him well enough to get it right the first time. Though he does check the food out for a bit, he’ll eat it. Sometimes all of it. Fuckin astonishing to Rester who had attempted many times to heat up microwave dinners for the guy.

[hotwings0203]

I JUST SAW FIGHT CLUB AND HOOOLLYYY-

Bro could you IMAGINE FightClub!Bakugo?

Tw:noncon, language, harassment

Okay okay get this: you’re down in the basement listening to the usual men holler and punch each other around while you do your job as their cute little “accountant”. While many of them have good jobs and a real life, the actual members don’t have time or the intellect to juggle the numbers and money around as fast as you can. You’ve been coming here for a while now, and you’re used to the jeers and wolf-whistles coming your way since you’re basically one of the few or only women who dare to come down here.

But there’s one fighter who just can’t seem to take no for an answer.

Bakugo fucking Katsuki.

The man is ruthless, he’s relentless, he’s a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. You swear he’s had to have taken a shitload of steroids in his youth, otherwise how else could he have built up that much muscle? There’s no way an average gym-goer has that kinda build.

He’s always the first and the last one out in the rink, swaying back and forth with his fists up, a twisted grin on his face that was so reminiscent of a wolf before it lunges for its prey.

It usually took more than two men to pull him off the unconscious bodies that he had just beaten to a pulp, effectively breaking one of Fight Clubs Rules: get up when someone is down.

But he’s too good to let go, no one has the balls to tell him to take his money somewhere else since they’re all scared shitless of him.

Which leads him to believing that he’s practically a god down here, that he can conquer anything: including you.

No one really calls it harassment because no one really cares. What’s so wrong in a guy having a little crush? What, you came down here seeing all this testosterone but you can’t deal with it yourself? Don’t be a prudish bitch.

“Bakugo, I’m at work right now, I don’t want to.”

“C’mon toots, this ain’t even real work, you’re just fumblin’ my hard earned cash.” He grins slyly and crosses his bulging muscular arms, leaning against the doorway of the little office you’re given to work your magic.

You turn in your rickety seat and glare at him, ignoring the way he licks his lips and lets his eyes roam all over your body. “If I’m so shit at my work then go somewhere else and stop bothering me.”

He chuckles in his baritone voice and shakes his head at you. “Naw, can’t do that sweets. If I did then I’d never be able to see your pretty face again now, could I?” Bakugo leers at you and you turn your face in disgust.

“I don’t wanna go out for lunch, or ever with you. Now get out before I have to call someone in here.”

“Oh, is that so?” He uncrosses his arms and steps through the threshold, his body growing larger and more menacing as he slowly draws closer to you. Luckily a fight had broken out near the office months ago so there was no more door from the aftereffects, but that didn’t mean you felt safe even with open space.

“G-get out. I’m serious, Bakugo-“

“-Call me Katsuki, angel. And you don’t really mean that, do you? Look at you, you can barely look me in the eye when you say such mean things.” His voice drops an octave as he comes to stand in front of your seated form, towering above your wide eyes, clenched fists and trembling figure.

He leans down and you flinch and gasp as his breath ghosts over your face. He places both arms on either side of your chair so you have nowhere to look but him.

“You’re such a nice breath of fresh hair down here, through all the blood and violence. You’re like a flower...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear and breaths out a laugh when you turn your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

“A flower, so fragile...a flower that smells so fucking good...” you feel like you can’t properly breathe as he leans in next to your ear and inhales deeply.

“A flower waiting to be deflowered herself.”

“What’s going on here?” A lanky body in the doorway appears.

Bakugo pulls back and turns his head ever so slightly towards the dude, growling under his breath at the interruption.

“We’re in the middle of something here, so you can just get the fuck ou-“

“-Well, it doesn’t really look like she’s into whatever you’re doing,” the man scoffs and takes in your pale face and shaking hands.

Bakugo stands to his fullest height, almost neck and neck with the man at the door.

“Yeah? I didn’t hear a complaint from her.” He cocks his head and stretches, allowing his muscles to ripple with each movement, something that didn’t go unseen by your much skinnier savior.

But he doesn’t back down. He only swallows and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, we’re all being called out to put our bets in for the next match anyways, so you better come out before we get our asses kicked.”

The blond grumbles about weak men and no balls, then casts a dark look at your frozen figure before shouldering past the man at the door, almost knocking him down.

As soon as he’s out of your line of vision, you exhale and relax into your seat.

“You okay?” The fallen soldier scrambles back up and cautiously approaches you, looking over your body in a way that didn’t remind you of Bakugo undressing you with his eyes...rather, it was a protective, and worried once-over.

“Yeah, he’s just...a lot to handle sometimes. Doesn’t know when to quit.” You laugh shakily and run a hand through your hair.

“No wonder the dude’s a menace. He’s used to getting what he wants, I guess.” The man acknowledges this grimly, and for the first time you’re relieved that finally someone hasn’t turned a blind eye to your harassment.

“Are they really calling us down for bets?”

“No, I just said that to get him off your ass. Didn’t seem like you liked whatever he was doing.”

You give him a wobbly smile and he returns it.

“Sooo we should probably run before he comes back up here, right?”

“Oh most definitely,” you actually giggle before leaping out of your seat and joining the man to bound up the steps two at a time to freedom.

You both end up bonding pretty well over the weeks, even going out for coffee and lunch dates here and there. You’ve come to really like him, his shyer demeanor more than a majority of the ragtag men down in the basements, his chivalry refreshing to you amongst the blood and foul language thrown around the ring.

You feel like a woman with him, not some piece of ass like you were used to.

Bakugo noticed all this, of course. You started avidly avoiding him, ducking your head down and hiding behind your new ally before he could open his coarse mouth and stalk towards you. He couldn’t find you in your dingy office anymore either, because your savior was up in a cafe doing the calculations with you, laughing away about the latest matches.

That has to change. Effective immediately.

“Yo, newbie. How you been? Haven’t seen you fightin’ here for a while,” Bakugo claps his meaty hand on the scrawny guy’s back, nearing sending him toppling over.

“Yeah, y’know, just haven’t been feeling it lately.” He rubs the stinging feeling away from his sore shoulders and side eyes the blond suspiciously. He had seen firsthand just how bad-news of a guy he was, and he didn’t wanna get caught up in all that.

But Katsuki wasn’t just all brawn. He had some brains, too.

“Look, I know I prolly gave off a weird first impression with Y/N back then. But it’s all in good health, ‘was just messin’ around like I always do.”

“Yeah, sure...”

“How ‘bout we get some coffee or somethin’? You seem like a solid dude, plus we got shit in common to talk about.”

Like fucking around with my bitch.

“Uh, you sure? I kinda’ wanted to see the last fight,” he trails off unsuredly, scratching his jaw as Katsuki steers him away from the growing crowd.

“There’ll always be fights, man. I wanna show you that I’m a nice guy.”

Bakugo Katsuki was not a nice guy.

And everyone knew that too, which is why when some shifted to give the duo a curious glance he met them with a death glare. Any gazes locked on Katsuki’s hand wrapped around the lanky guy’s shoulders were immediately casted down.

You didn’t see your savior for a while.

It had been two weeks since he mysteriously disappeared from his usual place in the outskirts of the crowd, because unbeknownst to you, a certain fighter was keeping him away from you and convincing him to have a friendly brawl over lunch.

You only found out about it on a Friday night, when a crowd much bigger than before was gathered in the dim basement, voices hushed and whispering.

“What’s going on? Why’s everyone so quiet?” You whisper to one of the usuals.

“‘Heard Bakugo’s fighting some dude that was handpicked by himself. He somehow managed to convince the poor bastard to have some kinda’ match with him.”

You felt your heart sinking.

“Who did he pick?”

“‘Dunno, some skinny guy, a newbie I think. Hasn’t been around for too long so I guess he doesn’t know how big of a monster he’s gonna be beaten by.” The groupie shrugged, and you felt the blood drain from your face.

Without saying another word, you spun around and started running around all over the place looking for either of the two.

You end up stumbling into the men’s bathroom, desperate beyond salvation to stop this bloodbath.

He’s there, he’s at the urinal and he yelps when he hears you barge in. You avert your eyes and let his adjust himself as he sputters indignantly.

“Y/N? What’re you doing in here? This is a men’s-“

“Don’t fight him.”

“What?”

“Don’t fight Bakugo, please, he’s gonna kill you, I know he is-“

“-Calm down, what’re you so worked up about? C’mon, I would’ve thought you’d had a little bit more faith in me to be able to stand my ground.” He teases you but you don’t find it funny, on the contrary you’re terrified out of your mind for his life.

“Did he put you up to this? How could you fight him, you’ve seen what he does to the other guys in the ring!”

“Well yeah, but he knows not to go that hard on me. Actually, he’s not that bad of a guy, we’ve gotten some drinks for the past two weeks and I was wrong about him.”

You gape at him. “Wrong? You saw how he cornered me that one day!”

He shrugs, not put off by the distant memory. “The guy just came back from a fight, he still had testosterone going through him. You can’t blame him for wanting to let a bit of it out, right? You should really give him a chance y’know, he talks about you all the t-“

But you can’t hear anymore, this is madness, there’s barely 10 minutes left until they’re going to call the two down for their death match. You need to find the source of this problem firsthand.

And somehow, a little voice inside your head tells you exactly where you know he is.

You round the corner to your office and there he is in all his glory, seated like a king on your chair, leaned back with his knees spread, carelessly looking through your bank statements and bet papers.

He barely looks at you as he says, “Oh there you are, I was starting to think you’d miss the show.”

You sink to your knees.

He looks up at that.

With a tight chest and burning eyes, your dry throat barely permits you to choke out, “Bak-Katsuki, please, please don’t do this. Please don’t fight him.”

He cracks his neck and leans forward, regarding you with dark vermilion eyes. He looks your position over appreciatively before speaking.

“Why not? He’s so good and great isn’t he? I’m just trying to show you how right you were, after all. I’m sure he’s got a fair chance of beating me.”

You shake your head vigorously, knowing what he’s playing at.

“No, no, you’re better, please. I was wrong about him, I shouldn’t have been friends with him, please don’t fight him Katsuki I’ll do anything-“

“-Oh you’ll do anything I say regardless of if I beat him to a bloody pulp or not. You wanna know why?”

You can barely contain a whimper as he stands and walks over right in front of you, his bulging crotch mere inches away from your face.

He suddenly grabs your hair and you cry out before he yanks your head up to meet his cold eyes.

“Because no one in here is gonna say shit to me. I run things here, toots. And if you want your little boy toy to live through today, you’re gonna watch every blow I give to him, and you’re gonna kiss the fucking knuckles I beat his face with. Got that?”

You sob as he grinds his clothed erection against your tear-streaked face, sniffling when he moans loudly and bucks into your open mouth.

A loud knock on the bare hinges stops Bakugo from pulling the front of his shorts down.

You both turn your heads and see a red-faced side-liner looking down and mumbling something about the match starting.

“‘Be there in a minute. Tell the guys to give my girl here a special front-row seat to this match, she’s gonna wanna see her man win, after all.”

The runner scampers off, leaving you both alone.

He bares his teeth down at you and you cower under his painful hold, the roots of your hair ripping from their strands.

He eventually tosses your head to the side after a few seconds of staring you down, and the second he does you clutch your sore cranium.

“I better see you down there in a minute sweet thing. You gotta get used to it anyways, since you’re gonna be getting accustomed to my rituals before and after matches.”

[cobrakaisb]

hi bestie! i’ve had this idea for a while, but i haven’t seen it. can you do like a head cannon of what miguel, robby, and eli/hawk would be like as an older brother? it can be totally based off what you think :) thank you <3

of course! sorry it took me a while but i needed to to be perfect. i also added two bonus boys at the end (hope you don’t mind). little note: i wrote this with a fem reader in mind because of the mentions of periods. 

Having the Cobra Kai boys as older brothers

miguel:

you and miguel are so close

the age difference does not affect him at all

he is very protective of you before cobra kai

but once he joins cobra kai that over protectiveness 📈📈📈

let’s just say that this kid is bothering you

miguel definitely notices and scares them off

you act annoyed about it, but you’re highkey grateful that he did that

“my brother is the all valley champ so back the fuck off”

you were so excited for him at the all valley

you wore one of his cobra kai shirts and everything

miguel is so supportive of whatever extra curricular you do

karate? yes he stans, theater? you bet he’s at all your shows, dance? you know he’s bringing you some flowers, another sport? he’s at every game cheering for you

miguel knows about periods, and he has no shame in buying you tampons/pads

“hey y/n, i noticed you were running low so i got you some more” 🥺🥺 

you wear his hoodies all the time

they are very big on you, but very comfy

you help him with sam

“i punched her in the face” “what why?”

“y/n what do you think about this?” “it looks great miguel. sam will love it”

when he dates tory you're a little on edge about it

“miguel, weren’t you like trying to win sam back two days ago?” “i like tory now” “okayy” 

johnny loves you as much as he loves miguel

y’all hang out together

his friends are your friends and vice versa

your friends definitely think that miguel is cute but “eww that’s my brother”

when miguel is in the coma you blame johnny

“he showed mercy because of you! you did this!”

but then you cry into his chest

when miguel wakes up you’re at school

you don’t find out until after school when carmen picks you up

you hug him so tight, rambling about how much you love him

“i love you too y/n now get off me”

you can’t keep up with his love life

“y/n i’m with sam again” “what?” 

overall your bond is amazing and you couldn’t ask for a better brother

robby:

you and robby both live with your mother (because we aren’t basic here)

you’re the odd one out (your mom does drugs and robby sells them)

“you got caught with molly? i thought you and sara were hooking up?” “the drug y/n”

when robby starts being friends with those punk kids, the two of you start to drift

you actually go to school, unlike him

“just skip y/n” “no robby”

it isn’t until he gets back on track because of daniel that you two start getting close again

“i’m gonna get back on track y/n i promise” and you believe him

you go to the skatepark with him

he skates while you read or draw or skate (whatever you’re into tbh)

when you’re on your period robby will buy you stuff, but he doesn’t like to

he feels so awkward about it

“um are these the right ones?” “yes thank you”

robby gives the best hugs (idk why he just does)

i feel like robby is also really good at reading emotions

like he knows when you’ve had a bad day at school or when you’re stressed about something

he also knows how to cheer you up :)))

“i know you did not just eat cereal with water???” “and what about it?”

when your mom comes back after being gone for days robby pulls you behind him

because he really doesn’t want you to be exposed to that

you cry into robby’s chest once she leaves

“why can’t she just be our mom?”

when daniel asks robby to move in with him he denies

but quickly explains that he can’t leave you

daniel tells robby that you can come too

“thanks for helping my brother mr.larusso, i really appreciate it”

you definitely walk in on robby and sam making out at some point

“hey robby- oh my god i’m so sorry” slaps hand over eyes and immediately leaves the room

when robby pushes miguel off the balcony it's the first time you’re genuinely scared of him

you visit him in jail, but it takes awhile for you to go

“i’m sorry y/n” “i know robby”

you just understand each other

when robby joins cobra kai he tries to get you in too

you agree to one lesson, and know it’s not for you

you have many arguments about this

“he’s brainwashing you!” “he knows what’s best for me, for us!”

robby feels so betrayed when he finds out you’re staying with johnny

the two of you definitely drift after that, but you find your way back to each other, you always do

eli/hawk:

okay so before he flips the script you defend eli, no matter what

you cry with him about the bullies and definitely try to fight kyler more than once

you wear his sweaters (fight me on it)

you encourage him to do karate

when he flips the script you’re very happy for him he finally feels confident in himself and you love that for him

now the roles are reversed

hawk protects you now

no one even dares to look at you because they are scared of him

i feel like he has a tattoo for you, whether that's your name or your favorite flower idk but he gets one for you

“um wow okay we’re doing that now” “do you like it or not?” “yeah but i wasn’t expecting it”

sometimes he’ll let you pick his hair color “how about purple” “maybe” 😉

he definitely flirts with your friends “hello ladies!” “hi hawk!” “get out!”

you’re the only one that is allowed to call him eli

“eli i need ten dollars?” “for what?” “a snack” *hands over the money*

“eli can i have your sweatshirt? i’m cold” “yeah take it”

“i can’t, me and eli are going to the movies today”

one day you’re sitting with him and his minions (you refuse to call them friends) at lunch

“so eli” -one of the cobra kais “shut the fuck up! you can’t call him that!” -you

hawk has a proud brother moment

anything that you do hawk is like “fuck yeah that’s my sibling!”

his friends are not allowed to look at you, talk to you, have a crush on you, or even think about you

“woah dude she’s hot” “that’s my fucking sister! stay away from her!”

“eli who’s your friend-” “NO!” 

as eli he will buy you period products but is very shy about it

as hawk he will not be caught dead in that isle of cvs

“eli i need them!” “i don’t care! i’ll drive you there and you can run in and get them”

when hawk breaks demetri’s arm you don't speak to him for weeks

you confront him about his new behavior

“this is who i am!” “no it’s not! you’re not my brother!” 

you’re crying and then storm off to your room

that breaks him

is highkey the start of his redemption

when he’s at the fight at the larusso house, and he sees demetri about to get his arm broken, he thinks of your words: “you're not my brother!”

literally motivates him to fix things

you see hawk and demitri and just know that your brother is back

you hug him so tight

“you were right y/n. i’m sorry” “of course i was. i’m always right” “gee thanks” “love you”  

bonus demetri:

he is a nerd, you are a nerd

the two of you watch star wars, marvel, harry potter, etc. together 

“daddy anakin” “please shut the fuck up”

you want to punch him in the face because he is so sarcastic 

it gets on your nerves 

bust out laughing when johnny makes fun of his pi shirt 

“stop laughing” “if it’s funny i'm gonna laugh”

even though you’re a nerd you’re cool 

like you have a lot of friends in your grade 

“demetri if i don’t talk to you at the halloween party that’s why” gestures to his costume 

listen to his rants about how eli’s changed 

you try to give him advice, but it doesn’t work out

so proud of him when he joins miyagi-do

“i'm glad you’re stepping out of your comfort zone” 

demetri tries to get you to join miyagi-do

if you do join great more sibling bonding

if you don’t join no biggie y’all are still besties

y’all go to the comic book store together

its sibling bonding time

you threaten to fight hawk after the laser tag thing 

“hey asshole you leave my brother alone!” 

you sign his cast first

you definitely write some inside joke that only the two of you understand

you see him kissing yas and do a whole 🤮

“so you dating yas?” “idk why” “just checking”

very obvious about your distaste for her

when him and hawk become friends again you’re very wary

“he broke your arm” “he apologized” “he broke your arm!!!”

eventually you and hawk are on semi decent terms

“demetri forgave you and that’s fine but i’m still not over it”

your relationship = the perfect mix of love and teasing  

bonus bonus king bert 🙌🏻:

you are older than him by like a year

but you’re still besties for life 

you’re very proud of him when he joins cobra kai

“im joining a karate dojo” “period pop off”

you always ruffle his hair 

cheer for him at the all valley

“yeah bert!”

but also like you can’t watch 

when he gets eliminated you cringe 

he’s sad about it 

“i just wanted to impress you” “im very impressed bert, you did great” 

your opinion matters so much to him

he’s such a small cinnamon roll 🥺🥺

seeing him with the older cobra kai boys makes you soft

“y/n i’m going out with hawk and miguel can you drive me?” 

bert admires you a lot, like you are his hero

y’all are the best sibling duo and that’s on period

[wisp-of-thought]

I met you when I was young. We were both young, but now I see it. I was 15 and you were older and kind and spent smiles like they cost you nothing. Maybe it was this illusion of abundance that originally tipped me into the fall but you were everything I never thought could exist for me.

My best friend introduced us in passing. I met you mid-morning in the middle of the week in the middle of a bustling hallway. Maybe this was the first sign that we would never be anything all the way. You made a joke about my name but it was all in good fun and to hear my name on your tongue made my palms prick. All I saw was your smile, brilliant enough to blind. It hurt to look at you too long, but I did it anyway. I was always a little bit of a masochist I suppose. You will learn this soon enough, when I love you so hard it hurts. When I manage to turn this soft thing between us sharp. But in fact, you won't. You won't learn this. And perhaps that is where we begin to fall apart. Or when I do. I begin to fall apart. Because we never seemed to do much of anything to you. We never seemed to touch you at all. While we tore me apart. Or I did. I guess it was always me doing the breaking, wasn't it?

We leave after last period to get lunch from the place near school you swear has the best fries. We miss 3 busses trying to figure out the route, the last one is on me because I can't run in flats with my school bag. While I walk, you sprint across the parking lot to buy our tickets but we're already too late. I don't want to watch the movie even if it's only 5 minutes in. I want to leave. I've wanted to leave since we waited for your food in awkward silence for 15 minutes but I swallowed and called it first date nerves even though we never said it was a date and I know now that it most definitely wasn't. And that's how things always were between us, weren't they? Me being let down by my own expectations of you. Me taking your kindness and taking and taking and taking even what wasn't there?

You let me pick what we watch instead since we're already here and pay for my ticket. I return the cost to you in the dark of the theatre. The movie is bad. In fact it's awful. I lean away from you and bite my nails during the sex scenes I didn't expect from the trailer. I wince every time I hear you shift, so sure you hate me as much as you hate the film, quietly begging for it to be over. We leave after it's done. I apologize. I didn't know it would be that terrible. You tell me we totally could have caught the original one we came to see and I nod, holding back tears that taste like shame. But you mean nothing by it.

It's summer, warm and sticky, walking across the parking lot.

I fell out of love with you then.

I didn't know it in that instant but looking back on it, this is the exact moment.

I realize there is nothing here. Nothing between us but space. There is nothing here, and the question is seeded if there ever was. The thought takes many weeks to root and bud. Months to flower and come to fruition. But it is planted here. Here, I keep searching for a feeling of comfort even if just in your presence but there is nothing to find. My stomach turns at my mother's missed calls, she's wondering where I am, who I'm with, and I'm panicking because I am still young. You offer me nothing but shrugged shoulders and it is worse because I know you mean well. Or rather that you mean nothing by it. And suddenly I know that I need you to say something. I need you to say something that matters right now. Or there will be nothing to come back to tomorrow.

But you don't. You don't walk me home. You walk me to the street across from my father's apartment building. Nod. One hand wave. See you later. Walk back across the street before the light can turn red again. You don't look back. And of course, I only know this because I look back. Stare after you. Not heartbroken yet. But gently being let down. For the next few days I would rather not think about you. I try many times to remake how it happened in my head but I'm grasping at threads. There is too little material to sew a new tapestry memory from stray comments and wayward touches.

After this butterflies were not summoned at the sound of your name, funny how easy delicate things die isint it. After this, I did not feel the tug of your orbit's gravity pulling me closer to you in a crowded room. Your words sounded less and less divine to me, I think this is because I started hearing what you were saying instead of what I wanted you to be saying. After this, the poetry about you turned sad, then angry, then ran mostly dry. There were no more tears shed over you in the bathroom around the corner from the theatre classroom because your promises were pretty coloured tissue paper flowers to me now. Good for decoration and conversation, but they would tear easy, for they were never meant to last. Never crafted to be put to the test.

We try again a few times. Every once in a while I find you at my locker at the end of the day and we try again. Painfully awkward, but we try again and again and every time I think it's over you're there again. Here is where you instill in me the inability to get over you all the way. You do it by accident. Or at least mean nothing by it. And I begin to understand this the hard way. It's hard because everything means something to me. For I have spent my life trying to squeeze enough from the nothings cast my way.

You ask me out of the blue if I'd like to go for bubble tea and I say I've never tried it so we do. My mother is at work and my sister is in school and no one is at home to expect me and I feel sickeningly giddy at the little rebellion. The silence is only half as uncomfortable as before. The other half-emptied of expectation and filled with acceptance. But the place is closed and this time I laugh at the inconvenience fate keeps gifting us. I tell myself it's a sign. One I'll look at later. We go somewhere else. Somewhere convenient. Somewhere familiar.

You buy me an iced coffee we playfully push the two dollars back and forth across the table as I insist to pay you back and you refuse. As a gentleman. As a friend. The spell is broken when you ask about a scar and I realize I could never tell you. Well, I could. But I don't want to. That someone like you would never understand. And you let the subject drop so easily. You let it all go so easily. Instead you check the bus schedule and walk me to my stop. You get on your bike and ride down the street and you don't look back.

Another time you meet me at the mall. My father asks to meet you so he does. You are the first boy I know that he ever meets. But of course, this means nothing to you. And so I try to let this mean nothing to me too. I link our arms together and it's easier to touch you. Without anticipation. You leave me after we eat cinnamon rolls and do not look back. And I always find myself looking after you. A part of me brought back to the piece of myself left in that movie theatre parking lot in the afternoon sun. But I don't ever really love you again after that.

And I am better for it.

We are better for it.

I am glad I still have you.

For I don't know what would have become of us if not for your careless gaze and fickle heart.

I do not know what would have become of me.

And I am grateful now, for the falling out of love.

- #1: reflections on falling out of unrequited love with him

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Two)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Hi everyone! Here’s ch2 of the new story, hope you guys like it. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t think you have ever been this bitter in your life—and you have a few things you can be bitter about. You could honestly make a list. But this? This is the ultimate bitterness and you hate it. It is driving you absolutely nuts! You’re alone with a man on an island…that’s lonely enough, right? Well, said man doesn’t even want to talk to you…that makes it ten—no, a million times more lonely. And you have every right to be bitter about that. So, yes maybe you are being a little petty when guys do interact.

It’s not like you are trying to purposely be petty, no, it’s not like that. You just can’t help your smart ass mouth or how childish you can become. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind completely though, he just has his own smart ass comments or he becomes childish himself. It’s a horrible mix! Neither of you win! And you always want to have the last word but with Taehyung as your opponent it’s almost impossible.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Okay, maybe a little less than fine. This company has got it all wrong! All. Fucking. Wrong. You two are barely getting along! It’s just eye roll after eye roll, smart ass comment after smart ass comment. That’s it. That’s the relationship. Taehyung barely spares you a glance throughout the day. You do your own thing and he does his. You won’t lie though…you are curious what he gets up to…the last week he has left the house and doesn’t come back until sunset…and he comes back sweaty and exhausted.

You want to ask what he does, you do, you really do. But something tells you he wouldn’t even tell you even if you begged. And you’re not about to beg for this asshole.

So, you guys keep to yourselves save the occasional breakfast/lunch/dinner run in. While he does god knows what, you have also been trying to keep yourself busy. You have recently learned to cook a couple meals, nothing too fancy but you feel proud. You play a lot of games, read a lot of books and watch a lot of movies.

But to put it simple—You’re bored. Fucking bored. You miss human interaction. You hate to say it but your food run ins are mostly on purpose at this point…you just want someone to chit chat with for a few moments even if its unpleasant conversation—because hey! At least it’s conversation.

You and Taehyung eat in silence after your little convo, he and you share strange eye contact…you call it strange because it’s more like he glares at you and you glare at him. Your eyes never leave one another. You feel like he’s trying to cast like, black magic on you, maybe something where if he glares enough you will burst into flames. You assume this because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“Stop looking at me.” Taehyung finishes his last bite, wiping his mouth clean with a napkin.

“You stop looking at me.” You fire back and he sighs, folding his arms across his chest.

“Why would I look at you?”

“Why would I look at you?” you mock, shoving a spoonful of cereal into your mouth and Taehyung squints at you.

“Oh yeah, real mature y/n.” His lips curl inward and he relaxes his arms at his sides as he stands from the table.

“I’m going to my room now.”

“You literally don’t have to announce everything you do.” You raise the bowl to your lips and drink back the leftover milk. You don’t want to look at Taehyung’s expression, you know you’re being ruder than usual. You’re just bitter. Yeah, pretty god damn bitter. You hear Taehyung release a long breath, and you’re starting to think he’s right, maybe you are a brat.

“Goodnight y/n.” he says much softer than you were expecting.

Yeah, maybe you are a brat.

~~~~~~

You’re snuggled up on the living room sofa, the TV plays some cartoon movie you found on the shelf (obviously one of his picks). The movie is on a low volume as you have a book in your hands. You just started it this morning and you have not put it down, it’s called The Roommate, a funny and sexy novel. Too bad your own roommate is nowhere near funny nor sexy. Okay, maybe he’s a little sexy. But his attitude is the opposite of sexy so therefore he isn’t sexy. Yeah, totally. Whatever you have to say to yourself, right? It’s evening now and you’re almost done with the book, you have hardly taken a break from reading. This reminds you of your last memories before the island…the night before you were…kidnapped. Yeah, kidnapped. That’s how you would describe it.

The night before you were like this…snuggled on your sofa in your parent’s house…

“All I’m saying is it doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard to—”

“Honey, relax.” Your dad cuts in. Your mom is going on and on again about how you still haven’t found another job.

“Relax? Our daughter suddenly left her job and moved back to town!” Your mother throws her hands up, “And she won’t even tell us why!”

You sit here, your knees to your chest as you read your book. You try your best to ignore your mother…you two have rarely ever seen eye to eye. If you told her why you “quit” your previous job and why you had to move back home she would probably find a way to blame you.

“She will tell us when she’s ready.” You hear your dad whisper to your mother. “Don’t push her, you know that makes it worse…”

You can’t help but nibble on your lips, starting to feel the anxiety build. You try to focus on the words on the pages in front of you but they’re beginning to become blurred.

“Oh what is she 5 years old? You treat her like a child! She’s an adult she can handle a little confrontation.”

Your eyes lose focus on the words in front of you, instead all you see is blurred vision thanks to the tears that try to visit.

“I’ll be going to sleep now.” You announce, closing your book and setting it on the end table next to the sofa. “Goodnight.” You grab your phone and stand from your place on the couch. Thankfully, your dad offers a soft ‘goodnight sweetie’ and your mom just nods her head.

You make your way down the hall to your bedroom, opening and closing the door quickly. You lean back on the bedroom door and sigh out, blinking away any tears that tried to appear. You won’t cry. Not again. You feel your phone buzz in your hand, startling you. You unlock your phone to see who messaged you when you see it lit up with a notification from him. You feel your whole world collapsing. Why the fuck is he messaging you?

You stare at your books pages, in deep thought as you recall your last night before the island. You don’t want to remember honestly. You shake your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts when the side door opens in the kitchen. It’s Taehyung. He’s sweaty and clearly exhausted again…what the hell does he do outside for so many hours?

“Hi.” You say, looking up at him from your book. Wait. Why did you greet him?

“Hi…?” Taehyung is just as surprised as you are, with his wide eyes and open mouth. He scrunches his brows together as he eyes you. He gives you a small wave, confusion written all over his face as he begins walking through the entry way and heading upstairs.

You sit here embarrassed as hell. Why did you say hi? And why was your voice so high pitched? You turn red, redder than you probably can imagine. You drop your face in your book and groan, wishing you didn’t say something as simple as ‘hi’.

You have to remind yourself you two aren’t talking. That your roommate here at Casa de la Trapped, isn’t looking to become buddy buddy with you. Which sucks because you are human, you know, a social creature. What’s the harm in becoming friends? Sure you two banter, but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You just don’t get any bad vibes from him, in fact sometimes it seems like he’s forcing himself to be closed off.

You try to go back to your book when you hear a faint yelp from upstairs. Did Taehyung just kind of…scream? You sit here with your book, your ears in the direction of the stairs trying to listen for any indication that something is wrong. But it’s silent. You decide to go back to your book when you hear the noise of Taehyung running down the stairs. He is out of breath by the time he reaches you, standing next to the sofa.

You quite literally choke on your spit when you see him. This boy just don’t give a damn, huh? He’s standing here, trying his best to breathe evenly with nothing but a dark red towel hanging lowly around his hips. You gulp at the sight of him. You knew he probably had a nice body but you were not expecting this. His strong build surprises you, his soft, caramel skin glows even in this lighting and his muscles flex with every movement.

“Uh,” you begin, setting your book down again, “Can I help you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Taehyung rushes to say, he sounds much different than usual. His voice is usually calm and deep but right now it’s panicked like a child.

“With what?”

“There’s a spider in the shower, I need you to take care of it.”

“You want me to kill a spider for you?”

“Kill?” Taehyung brings a hand to his chest, a shocked expression on his face. “All life is precious, y/n.” he pouts. “Just get it and take it outside.”

You tilt your head and try not to laugh as you look at him…he looks bothered, that’s for sure. But god, what a baby. Can’t even take care of a small bug by himself.

“Fine. Show me where it’s at.” You rise from the couch, pointing at the direction of the stairs.

“Yes, yes. I’ll lead the way!” Taehyung walks quickly. He makes his way upstairs with you following right behind him. He leads you into the bathroom when he brings back the shower curtain to show you the spider.

“Well?” you ask expectantly. “Where is it?”

Taehyung turns to face you, his face as white as a ghost.

“It was just here, I swear.”

You roll your eyes as you fight back a grin.

“Sure, Taehyung. Are you sure you weren’t just trying to show off your body?” you shamelessly drag your eyes down his body and he goes red.

“W-Why—why would I do that?” he murmurs out, “Plus, I am sure you’ve already imagined what I look like without clothes.” He recovers quickly, a smirk making its way on his face.

“Not likely.” You say nonchalantly. “Well, if there’s no bug—”

“Wait! You don’t expect me to use this shower still, do you?” He looks panicked again, like a small child.

“Uh, yes?”

“The spider could be lurking anywhere! Let me use your shower.” He suggests, loving his own idea. You on the other hand, do not love his idea.

“Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Yeah, nah.”

“y/n…” He whines, “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You raise a brow, a small smirk creeping on your face. “Okay, have breakfast with me tomorrow. And you actually have to talk to me.”

“y/n…” he warns. “You know we shouldn’t do that.”

“And I want 5 facts about you.” You stand your ground, your hands on your hips as you speak. “And I’ll give you 3 about me.”

“How is that even fair?”

“I’m the rule maker here, Taehyung.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Get used to it.”

Taehyung walks closer to you, his breaths reaching your skin.

“Oh y/n.” Taehyung’s voice goes low, “I definitely make the rules.” There’s a moment of strange tension as he stares down at you…then he’s speaking again. “If you only give 3 then I only give 3. That’s the deal.”

You stare up into his dark eyes and you struggle to swallow your own spit, he might only have a few inches over you but maybe they are a little intimidating.

“F-Fine. Use my shower.” You step out of his way and gesture towards your room. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.” You wink.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but this time it almost seemed playful and not overly dramatic. You don’t want to get your hopes up but when he’s not being closed off and frankly, rude, he’s really not that bad.

“Don’t get used to these types of deals.” Taehyung throws over his shoulder as he walks to your room. “Basically, don’t get used to me.” He says a little quieter, but you still hear him and you frown.

“Like, I would want to!” you yell out.

Taehyung does not want to leave this shower, ever. He’s almost kind of bitter that he let you have this room! You get the awesome rain shower and he’s stuck with some plain, basic shower head in the guest bathroom. He eyes all the different bottles that sit on the shelves inside the shower, these must be all the bottles you use in your real life, he thinks. He grabs the shampoo and opens it to sniff it. He’s never gotten close enough to you that he can smell your hair but man, this is what you smell like? Delicious. He squirts a generous amount of the shampoo in his palm with an evil glint in his eye and massages it into his scalp. Whoops, did he just use your shampoo? Oh well. He rinses his hair out and uses your conditioner as well, but he doesn’t stop there. He uses your body wash too! It smells divine and its making his skin so soft.

Taehyung just knows that him using your shit would bother you, he just gets that vibe. And he’s not sure why but riling you up is quite fun. Taehyung turns the water off and grabs his towel and starts drying off…he steps out on to the shower mat and eyes the room as he dries himself. He sees you organized all your lotions and whatever other products onto the sinks counter top, he sees how empty “his side” of the sink is. It previously held all his belongings that he had moved into his bathroom—the guest bathroom.

“Are you almost done in there?” He hears you knocking on the door. “I want to take a shower before bed!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He whispers out, “Hold on!”

Taehyung wraps the towel around his hips again and goes towards the bathroom door, he stops to check himself out in the mirror before opening the door.

“I’m all done, cry baby.” He rolls his eyes and you secretly hope they get stuck like that for how much he does it.

“Me, the cry baby? You wouldn’t even use your own show—”

“—anyway, bathroom is all yours.” He breezes past you, but stops before exiting the bedroom. “Um…” he turns around, “See you in the morning.” And then he’s walking out.

~~~~~~

You made eggs, bacon, pancakes, and have fresh fruit in a bowl all set up on the dining room table. For some reason you are too nervous to call out for Taehyung and let him know that breakfast is ready…you know, 30 minutes ago. You just patiently wait, sitting here tapping your fingers against the wooden table.

Another 20 minutes pass by when you hear faint footsteps from upstairs…he must now just be getting up, you think. You rush to reheat up some of the food before he makes his way downstairs. You set the bacon, eggs and pancakes back down on the table and make yourself busy like you haven’t just been waiting for almost an hour.

Taehyung finally walks through the kitchen, his face evident with sleep and his hair sticking out in all directions. He blinks at you lazily before his eyes widen in panic.

“B-Breakfast. I forgot—”

“It’s okay, I just finished.” You cut him off with a strained smile. “I see you like to sleep in.”

“Most days, yeah. Because I go to bed so late.” He admits sheepishly. Then he smirks. “Can that be fact number 1?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it? How gracious of you.” Taehyung takes a seat at the dining room table and he starts with grabbing two pancakes from the pile and setting them down on his plate.

“You cooked all of this?” He asks, surprised.

“No, the other people who live here did it.” You deadpan.

“Always a smart ass.” He says while pouring syrup all over his pancakes, “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“Right…” you make your way to the table and take a seat in front of him. You start with some pancakes as well, waiting for him to finish with the syrup so you can pour your own generous amount. He notices you waiting, his eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth twitches into a sort of half smile. He slides the syrup across the table and your hand goes out to grab it, your fingers touching his.

“S-Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You both get out at the same time. You stare at one another for another few seconds before Taehyung rolls his eyes,

“Big deal, our fingers touched. No need to get weird.” He chuckles, and you feel your heart feel all fucking weird.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “What’s fact number 2?”

Taehyung takes a bite of his pancakes and moans into the syrupy mess, his eyes finding yours again.

“Oh? You’re greedy for information.”

“I’m a little greedy.” You admit, “So?”

“Fact number 2…I’m almost 5’11.”

“So you’re 5’10. Just say you’re 5’10.”

“But I’m not just 5’10. Because I am almost 5’11.” He groans, “Can’t you just humor me here?”

“Okay Mister 5’11.” You laugh, “My fact number 2 is that I have one older sister.”

Taehyung nods his head, remembering the picture of you and some other girl that you looks a lot like you.

“I see.” He swallows his food, “So you’re the baby of your family?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He smirks at you, “You have that baby of the family vibe.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” you give him a curious look and he looks at you like you can’t be serious.

“Because you’re…you know,” he gestures towards you with a knowing look and you scoff.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Brat.” He states simply. “Because you’re a brat.”

“Whatever.” You grab for some eggs and bacon, and Taehyung does the same.

“So, what’s fact number 3?” you ask, piling some eggs onto your plate.

“Already want the last fact? We are barely just eating.” Taehyung points out. He shovels some eggs onto his own plate once you are done, and sticks a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“Greedy, remember?” you remind him with a smirk. “So?”

“I’m sure you already gathered this but…I’m an aspiring musician.”

“I figured you were…that, or an artist.”

“Art is just a really fun hobby for me.” He admits. He loves to paint but singing and making music is where his true passion lies.

“What’s your last fact?” he stuffs his face with another piece of bacon, you watch him as he eats the crispy meat.

“Umm…” you look up at the ceiling as you think, “I used to think I looked bad in sun glasses but then I got over that…so now I buy any cool, funky sunglasses I can find.”

“That’s a really random fact.” Taehyung chuckles, “I like cool, funky sunglasses too.”

“Wow, are you saying we actually have something in common?” you tease, bringing a forkful of eggs to your mouth.

“Don’t get used to it.” He says dryly. “Since we said all of our facts, I guess I can go now.”

“You’re not going to finish your food? Taehyung…” you place your hands on the table. “They’re not going to assume just because we are talking that we are falling in love for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t want to give them any ideas.” Taehyung says a bit harshly. Your face falls into a frown and you stand from the table.

“You can finish your food. I’ll leave.”

Taehyung blinks up at you and opens his mouth to say something but he remains quiet. You shake your head at him and walk off into the living room. If he wants to continue this “Little to no interaction” thing then so be it!

Taehyung sits here with his appetite lost. He holds his fork in his hand out in front of him and attempts to cut into his pancakes when he just gives up. He drops the fork onto the table and sighs out.

“y/n…” he calls out but you ignore him. “y/n!”

“Don’t talk to me.” You say with as much attitude you can muster and Taehyung silently mocks your words. He grabs his fork and aggressively cuts into his pancakes and takes a bite.

“Fine by me!” He yells out with his mouth full.

“You’re so annoying!” You groan and Taehyung silently mocks your words again but you can’t see him.

“And you’re a brat!” He says stuffing his mouth with another slice of pancake.

Great. For a moment there you thought you two could almost get along but he is set on this bullshit of not talking. You walk to the shelves in the living room and choose a new book, another romance novel. You take a seat on the couch, and curl up into a blanket. Taehyung can do whatever he wants! You’re going to enjoy your book and forget all about his annoying ass.

~~~~~~

Taehyung is finally dressed into some shorts and a sleeveless shirt as he makes his way out of the house. He is going to continue working on his little…project. You are probably wondering what he gets up to everyday, he thinks.

He is working on building a raft. He wants to escape this island but he doesn’t know how to build a fucking raft and this company didn’t necessarily give him the tools to escape. But he’s figuring it out. He is quite literally breaking tree branches and going from there. But it is taking time but apparently he has all the time in the world. 3 months? 6 months? A year or even more? He releases a long breath as he walks the path to where his “raft” is. If anything it’s just nice to get out of the house and breathe the island air. This whole thing kind of just gives him something to do and he knows this may not really work but he’s got to try. He’s a man of action after all.

He finally sees his “raft” chilling against a tree close to the beach and he walks up to it. Already feeling frustrated just looking at the pathetic thing. He has to make it big enough for two people…he isn’t an asshole, he doesn’t plan on escaping by himself, leaving you here.

He goes to his knees and holds it up, he feels his frustrations bubble over and he throws it to the ground. How the hell is he supposed to escape with this shitty thing?

He slams his eyes shut and sinks into the sand. He wants to go home. Things aren’t easy here…he can’t sleep. He is surprised he’s eating as much as he is, and he has mostly bad interactions with you. And he knows that it’s his fault. But he knows this is for the best but he can tell it’s not what you want. To be honest, this is actually really hard for him. He tries to come off as cold and closed off so you won’t take an interest in him but he’s dying! He wants to talk to you too! He is probably one of the most social of his friends! He has a lot of friends and he loves talking and hanging with them.

Taehyung feels his eyes become wet with hot tears and he grits he teeth together in irritation. He wishes he was home with his friends, with his family, with the girl he likes. He misses everyone so bad. He knows the night you two were “kidnapped” was the last day of the year, meaning they started this experiment January 1. He recalls his last few nights before the island…it was his birthday.

“No! I want him to open my present first!” Jimin whines and Taehyung can’t help the wide grin that adorns his face.

They’re all out at a bar, the music is loud and the alcohol is nonstop. Taehyung is surrounded by his closest friends, plus Hana—the girl Taehyung has been crushing on for the last year. She brought along a couple of her friends to this night out of celebration.

“He can open whoever’s he wants first…which is mine, right?” Jungkook hands Taehyung a box and Taehyung chuckles.

“Just for that, your two are going last.” Taehyung says, “How about I open Namjoon’s first since he planned this night?”

Namjoon gives the other two boys a cocky grin as he hands Taehyung a bag.

“Can I go after Namjoon?” Hana’s sweet voice is heard over the blaring music. She looks absolutely gorgeous tonight, her pink dress doing her a million favors. Not that she needs the favors, she’s always gorgeous.

“Y-Yeah.” Taehyung blushes, “But you didn’t have to get me anything…”

“Really? You practically yelled at us when you thought we weren’t getting you anything.” Jimin playfully comments.

“Shut up dude.” Taehyung grits out, “Anyway, let’s see what Joonie got me.”

The night went on, the music got louder, the alcohol kept on coming. Taehyung is so happy. Everything is perfect. He doesn’t think anything can ruin his good mood.

“Want to dance with me?” Hana’s words leave her pretty, pink lips and Taehyung finds himself nodding yes before he can even register what she said. He would literally do anything she wanted.

“Then come.” She waves him over with her small, manicured hand.

Hana and Taehyung end up on the dance floor for quite some time…he’s too drunk to be nervous like he usually is. His large hands grip at her tiny waist as he brings her in closer, she lightly moans when she feels his hard body against her.

“We should talk.” Hana breathes out, “About us.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, panic starting to make its way into his body.

“What about us?”

Hana chuckles lightly, she goes on her tip toes and places a soft, sweet kiss against Taehyung’s lips.

“Nothing bad, I promise.” She takes his hand and leads him outside the bar, out to a little patio. Taehyung has a huge smile on his face as he follows her outside…it’s not the first time they’ve kissed but he still can’t get used to it.

“You like me right?” she asks, pointing to herself. She’s got that sweet smile and Taehyung feels his nerves spiking.

“Yes.” He finally breathes out.

“Good. Because I like you too.” She admits, she closes her eyes for a moment, Taehyung spots the golden eye shadow that is painted over her lids. She opens her eyes again and he spots a sadness in them.

“But…” she begins and Taehyung feels his smile fade.

“But what?”

“No…it’s nothing.” She clears her throat, “You should take me on a date. And soon.” She giggles. Taehyung feels his smile grow and he nods his head.

“I would love to. We can—”

“Hey Tae!” Hobi’s voice cuts him off, “Yoongi says he just got off work and is on his way!!” He cheers happily. Taehyung turns to face Hobi and gives him a thumbs up before he’s spinning back around to Hana.

“Let’s go inside. We can discuss more on our date.” She smiles, taking his hand again.

“Sure.” Taehyung grins, his stomach doing a million flips. “Let’s go!”

Taehyung feels a few tears escape his closed eye lids as he sits in the sand. It’s too early to be in this state, Taehyung thinks. But alas, he can’t help it. He misses his life. This island put his life on complete hold. What if he’s stuck here for a year? Would Hana wait for him? It’s not like he’s expecting her to…but he thinks he would wait for her.

He stands to his feet, wiping his face of any leftover tears and he begins working for the day. He finds new trees with branches that would be easy to cut down and he resumes his little project. Hours and Hours go by and Taehyung is sitting on the beach’s sand and staring out at the water. He’s tired, he’s sweaty and he’s hungry.

Taehyung starts making his way back to the house now that the sun is setting. It’s pretty orange glow sets a relaxing mood and Taehyung feels grateful. He walks up to the side door that leads to the kitchen and watches you from the window. You look calm as usual and he feels himself feeling frustrated all over again…how are you so calm? He was having a meltdown on the beach earlier and here you are cooking dinner with a small smile on your face. He doesn’t understand you. Does this whole situation not bother you? No…he knows it has to bother you but how are you able to be so relaxed about it?

He opens the door and walks inside, startling you. You bring a hand to your heart when you see him but then visibly relax after a moment or two.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles lamely. And then he’s walking up the stairs leaving you to your lonesome.

~~~~~

Month: 1

It’s been a month. A whole month! It seems Taehyung has gotten even more distant with you…no major interactions since you two had breakfast together. He keeps his comments to you brief in passing and he barely makes eye contact. You’re fed up. You’re lonely. You need interaction and you can’t always cater to him! He can suck it up for once and do what you want.

Feeling brave, you give yourself a pep talk in your bathroom mirror. That’s right, you are going to just go for it! You are going to demand that he hang out with you. You fix your hair in the mirror and nod to yourself. Yeah, you got this. You exit your room and stroll down the hall to his bedroom, once you are standing in front of it you lean your head against the door, your ear lying flat against it as you try to listen for him. The room sounds pretty quiet…maybe he’s sleeping? No, no. You’re just trying to find an excuse not to do this, aren’t you? Ugh, pathetic.

You raise your fist up and begin knocking on his door. You’re left with silence…you’re being ignored. So you knock again. And again. And ag—

“What?!” Taehyung swings open the door, revealing that he was indeed maybe sleeping. His hair is doing that funny thing where it sticks out in every direction and his eyes are barely open.

“This better be important.” He huffs out.

Suddenly, you feel a wave of shyness wash over you. You feel kind of bad you interrupted his nap…but you got to stay strong.

“Please hang out with me.” You blurt out.

“Huh?” Taehyung looks at you as if you’re crazy. “Not happening.” He quickly says.

“Just play a game with me, or maybe we could watch that movie…”

“I don’t want to do anything with you.” He raises his voice just the slightest and you flinch.

“Yeah? You think I want to do things with you? Like you specifically? Hell no! But I just want to do something damn it!” you flail your arms up, and breathe out heavily. “I am so fucking tired of always being by myself, it’s literally driving me insane.” You admit, you look off to the side as tears threaten to wet your eyes. “I am alone every single day. It has been a month, Taehyung? Did you know that? You’ve left me lonely for an entire month! I am going fucking crazy!” you bring your hands to your hips, “I have tried learning to cook all these god damn recipes as a way to distract myself but dude, I don’t even like cooking. I read all day too…I have all these imaginary book friends and that’s where I meet my social needs, isn’t that insane? Oh my god, I am going insane. And you?! How are you okay?!”

Taehyung is left speechless at your rant. He realizes that this loneliness is really getting to you…he admits he isn’t much better. But he kind of likes that you’re beginning to spiral. Is that mean?

“W-What game?” he juts out his bottom lip as his eyes slide to the side.

You stare at him with wide eyes as your chest heaves. You screw your eyes closed, and bring a hand to your head.

“What game?” you open your eyes to look at him, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What game y/n?”

You glare at him, huffing out deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

“Mortal Kombat.” You spit out, “I really want to kick your ass.”

Your fingers work the buttons on the controller as you test out every god damn combo you can…and damn it is working because you are on fire.

“You could have warned me that you actually know how to play…” Taehyung pouts.

“You should have just taken my word for it, you loser.” You continue to kick his ass in the game, you are pretty good at pretending his character is actually him.

“One more game, y/n.” Taehyung begs, “I will beat you!”

“You haven’t won even one match, Taehyung. Just admit you suck.” You chuckle darkly.

You press a few more buttons until you see the word ‘Fatality’ grace your screen, you stand up in excitement yelling out your victory, you laugh like a god damn maniac and he can’t help but chuckle. Taehyung throws his controller to the ground and pouts dramatically.

“I know what will make you feel better.” You turn to face him, calming down.

“Nothing will heal this wound, y/n.” He states, throwing the sofa’s designated blanket over his body.

“How about we watch that movie you like so much?” you offer with a smile but Taehyung goes stiff at your question.

“I think we should just call it for the day…” he looks awkwardly to the side and you slump your shoulders.

“Oh…okay.”

“Listen…it’s not you—”

“Just stop.” You hold your hand up, “You want nothing to do with me, I get it.”

“y/n…” Taehyung looks down at his hands…he does feel bad. It’s not like he didn’t have fun with you just now. He just wishes this was all different.

“I’ll be in my room—”

“Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He cuts in.

“What?” you ask, completely off guard. “What?” you repeat.

“I said,” Taehyung breathes out, “Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He’s not just trying to be nice…he’s also, you know, hungry.

You hate yourself because you light up like the sun almost immediately. You wish you were strong and you could tell him to fuck off but instead you become the god damn sun from how brightly you shine.

“Really?” you ask with the most hopeful eyes.

“Yeah.” Taehyung laughs, “Really.”

“You mean…you want to actually spend time with me?” you ask bluntly.

“I guess you can put it that way if it makes you feel better.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, but it’s in that playful way you only ever get to see so often.

“It does make me feel better actually.”

“Well, then.” He stands up and motions his hand towards the kitchen. “Shall we?”

“Are you going to be annoying the whole time?” you ask, “Or will you be serious about learning?”

“God, woman.” He rolls his eyes again. “I hope I annoy the shit out of you.”

“Oh, you already do.” You gesture for him to go to the kitchen first.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Somehow I believe you.” This time it’s your turn for the dramatic eye roll. “Now come on.”

“Oh my god. You aren’t even listening!” you yell out over Taehyung’s nonstop humming and whistling.

“I truly believe cooking is like an art, you know?” he continues to whistle some made up tune, “These instructions are like…a guide but you can kind of do what you…” he makes a fist with his hand and shakes it in front of his face. “… you want.” He finishes. “Yeah, these are more like suggestions.”

“Can we please just follow the directions.” You deadpan. “I want this to taste the way it’s supposed to!”

“You’re no fun.” Taehyung says nonchalantly. “Cooking should be fun.”

“Cooking is so we can eat.”

“These dumplings are going to taste fine, y/n.” He assures you with a grin.

“You say that but…” you look at his pile of failed dumplings. “But…” you show him with your hand the absolute mess he’s made.

“Your point?” He raises a single brow and you scoff. There’s no way he is serious, absolutely no way.

You notice Taehyung is staring at you, his eyes look everywhere but your eyes and you start to feel nervous under his gaze. He has one of those dark, intense gazes that you just can’t shake off your mind.

“What?” you finally ask. “Something on my face?” you joke.

“Actually, yes.” He blurts out. “So much flour.”

“Oh.” You start to turn red with embarrassment, “Where? Here?” you point to various spots on your face with a towel and he just shakes his head.

“No, there.” He points but you still miss it.

“Just clean it off me!”

“You want me to touch you?”

“Yes, please touch me.” Then your eyes expand in size. “Wait, that sounds wrong.”

“You have a dirty mind, y/n.” Taehyung shakes his head again, “You’re just all kinds of dirty.”

“Oh my god, stop.” You look at him with your flustered as hell face, your face is probably redder than ever and it feels so fucking hot.

“Here.” Taehyung grabs the towel from your hands and begins wiping your face clean. “Your face isn’t dirty anymore.” He pulls his hand back, “But your mind still is, huh?”

“Will you just shut up?”

“Will you just shut up?” he mocks how you usually would and you roll your eyes. Hard.

“Doesn’t feel good does it?” He teases, “Getting a taste of your own medicine.”

“Can we please just focus on this recipe?”

“Fine.” He breathes out, “Except I will ignore this recipe completely and do what I think my ancestors want me to do. They whisper in my ear that these need more garlic.”

“You are so annoying.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Okay, I get it, Taehyung.”

You reach behind you and untie your apron and place it on its hook by the pantry. You walk over to the dining room table and take a seat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taehyung quirks a brow as you rest your head on the table.

“Resting. Letting you do all the work. You can cook from now on. I give up.”

Taehyung shakes his pointer finger at you and walks your way.

“Oh no, no, no.” he grabs on to your arm and begins dragging you up. “This was your idea so we are cooking together.”

“Uh, actually this was your idea.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s mouth hangs open as he realizes how true that is. “Not one of my better ideas…” he admits.

“Oh? Do you usually have good ideas?” You make your snarky comment and Taehyung let’s go of your arm.

“Usually the best.” He says, a cocky smile making its way on his stupidly handsome face.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well, you don’t know me.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” You jab at him and he visibly deflates.

“You know 3 things about me actually.” He gives you a half smile.

“All I remember is that you’re almost 5’11.”

“Well, that one was the most important. So your head is in the right place.”

Taehyung doesn’t realize it because you didn’t say anything but his face is full of flour as well. You stare up at him and start to laugh. Taehyung looks at you, confused. An adorable pout forms on his lips as he begs you to tell him what’s so funny.

“Your face.” You point at him and his fingers go to touch his skin.

“Clean me.” He commands. “I cleaned you, it’s only fair.” He points out.

You nod your head and walk towards the counter to grab the towel, Taehyung follows closely behind you. You turn around quickly and your chest bumps into his.

“Oh sorry.” He says while scratching the back of his neck, “I got too close.”

You nod lamely, but neither of you step back. Maybe expecting the other to do it? You decide to ignore that and you reach up to clean his face. He has flour everywhere. No joke. This dude is messy. You kind of laugh as you wipe his face clean, he can’t help but laugh too. His breath mingling with yours as you two giggle.

“We are kind of a mess.” He admits, his tone is soft—almost shy. You slow down the patting on his skin and you gaze into his eyes for a moment. They’re dark. They’re powerful. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment when Taehyung clears his throat and you bring your hand back down.

“There.” You say, “All done.”

“Should we finish cooking?” Taehyung grins down at you.

“I don’t know, what do your ancestors say?”

“They say you’re a smart ass.”

~~~~~~

“Do you think we could…we could do this again?” You and Taehyung are standing outside your bedroom door. Why did Taehyung walk you all the way to your door? The world may never know.

“Do what exactly?” he asks as he sways back and forth in front of you

“Play a game…or cook dinner…or you know just hang out.”

“Maybe… once a week we can play a game or watch a movie or something…” he gets out awkwardly.

“Wow, you’ll grace me with your presence once a week?” you roll your eyes, “How generous of you.”

“Listen…” Taehyung looks at you more seriously, “I know social contact is important for like, our mental health or whatever. But we shouldn’t push it.”

“You’re so…”

“I’m so what?” Taehyung steps forward and you gulp.

“So unfair.” You whisper. Taehyung bows his head down, he feels like he is shrinking. Because you’re right, he is being totally unfair. But he thinks this is the right move, the smart move.

“Y/n…” he sighs, “I’m doing this so we can leave.”

“And what if your little strategy isn’t working? It’s been a month Taehyung.” You point out, “And we’re still here.”

“I know, I know. Jesus, woman.” He breathes out, his dark eyes finding yours. “Look, they will get bored with us.”

“How can you be so sure?” you step forward. “What if we aren’t boring to them?” you whisper, your eyes staying on his.

“That’s why we should interact as little as possible.”

“Taehyung. No offense. But do you really think I want to interact with you?” you spit out, “I just need something, anything. I just need someone.” You step closer, “And you happen to be the only person here.”

Taehyung’s brows pinch together as he looks down at you, a frown decorating his face. He…he doesn’t want to be hurt by that.

“Once a week y/n. That’s all I can offer you.” He steps closer to you, his feet bumping into yours, “Don’t get greedy on me.”

You tilt your head up and chuckle,

“I told you I’m greedy though.” Your eyes stay on his, his piercing gaze causing you to shudder but you don’t break contact and neither does he. He’s challenging you, you can feel it. His eyes begin to narrow as he stares down at you, you wonder what he is thinking. He sighs out, his breath hitting your face and you blink up at him. You’re about to say something, anything when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You mean to keep your eyes on his eyes, you really do but you don’t. You hate yourself for dropping your gaze down to his lips. He smirks as realization hits him.

“Goodnight y/n.” He says, his voice so deep and low it catches you off guard. Then he’s stepping away from you and heading towards his room, leaving you at your door. You release the longest, shakiest breath as you watch him disappear.

You open the door to your bedroom and walk inside, you wish you could yell out in frustration. You wish you could scream into your pillow and know for sure he can’t hear you. You wish you weren’t here.

You change into some sleep clothes and slide into bed. You pull the blanket up to your nose and kick your legs dramatically. This guy is so annoying! Why can’t he just not care and live life normally so you can be normal too! Listen, you aren’t fucking thrilled about this either. But you’re handling it a lot better than he is. Why is that…? Why are you handling this so well? Maybe it’s because your real life is a fucking mess and this truly is the vacation you needed. You know, you know how pathetic that sounds.

You close your eyes and try to sleep but memories of your real life keep hitting you. You hate this. You hate all of this. You’re lonely. You’re all alone. In this this life on the island but also in your real life. You’re so fucking alone. You feel tears prick your eyes and you let yourself quietly sob for who knows how long. You wish you had someone to lean on…just in general. But you lost all of your friends at work…you lost your boyfriend…you only have your parents and even they are fed up with you.

After crying tears after tears you decide you’re thirsty. You tip toe out of bed and make your way downstairs…the house is so quiet and dark. It’s relaxing and also depressing. You finally make it to the kitchen when you scream bloody murder. Sitting in the dark at the dining room table is Taehyung.

“Wow, y/n. It’s not next week yet.” He jokes. You quickly turn on the dining room light and look at him like he’s insane.

“You fucking scared me!” you exclaim loudly, “And why are you awake?”

“I have trouble sleeping…” he admits, he scratches the back of his neck and gives you a sheepish grin. “What about you?”

You step closer to the table and Taehyung’s eyes slightly expand. He notices your swollen eyes and puffy lips. Had you been crying?

“Hey…are you okay?” he whispers out, standing from his chair.

“Don’t act like you care so suddenly.” Your eyes slide to the side, “I’m fine.”

Taehyung looks down, guilt burying itself into his body. He looks up at you and tries to speak but he doesn’t know what to say.

“I just came down for some water.” You tell him. “That’s all.” You walk over to the fridge for the pitcher of cold water then you walk to the cabinet and try to grab a glass from the top shelf but you struggle. You huff out and close your eyes in frustration when you feel Taehyung’s chest on your back.

“I’ll grab it for you.” He says softly. He reaches for a glass and hands it to you, you take it from him and offer him a small thanks.

“See? That’s something only people who are almost 5’11 could do.” He teases and you look at him with a serious expression. You look down at your feet and sigh out before you let a giggle slip between your lips.

“Goodnight Taehyung.” You look up to study his face, and you see his smile fade.

“What?” you ask.

“Once a day.” He says. “We can hang out once a day. But that’s it.”

You feel your heart do something funny…you feel your tummy doing something weird too. You feel your entire chest get hit with a wave of….something.

“It’s fine, Taehyung.” You finally say after a quiet moment, “I don’t want to push you.”

“This isn’t for you.” He smiles, “I think I need the social contact too.”

“Well, no fucking duh.” You state with the roll of your eyes. “We can’t isolate ourselves…it’s so unhealthy.”

“I get it.” He breathes out, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after that until we’re out of this place.”

~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days you and Taehyung play some games or watch a movie together, just doing at least one activity a day. Just like he said you two would. Admittingly you do feel better about this arrangement. Not talking at all was a pain in the ass and terribly lonely. Sometimes Taehyung will come to the living room and play a game by himself while you read, just sharing a space without really talking, even after he did his one activity with you. You hate to admit how much you like that he does that.

It’s not like you want to get to know him specifically…but you would like to sort of know the person you are living with…that makes sense, right? It’s not him! It’s just that he’s the only person here…and you want a friend. Yes, you can admit you want a friend. You aren’t going to fall in love with the dude…you just want someone to talk to and hang out with. God, is that such a crime? Plus, you’re in no place for love. If the company truly knows you, with their “research” and all then they should know you are not ready for any type of romantic relationship.

You lay here on the couch, your legs hung over the arm of it while you stare up at the ceiling. It’s hot out today and this house happens to come with a lovely pool. The ocean is scary so no beach for you…but pool? Yes. You lay here, wondering what Taehyung is up to. He went out again today like he usually does, you wonder if you can ask him about it now…now that you guys aren’t on total terrible terms. Nah, you will wait a little longer before you ask. Instead, you rise from the sofa and head upstairs to change into a swim suit.

You have a lot of options, to be honest. This place did not lack on the clothing items! You decide on a simple dark green bikini, you try it on and decide you like the way it looks. A lot actually. Have you lost some weight? You guess the lack of fast food options has made you a little slimmer, and the amount of fresh food that’s available here. Plus you started lightly working out in the home gym, sweating a storm.

You head back downstairs and go to the back where the absolutely lovely porch is located…it’s a whole wooden deck. With a glamorous pool in the center and a hot tub off to the side. You wish you really lived in a place like this—not here, specifically. (For obvious reasons) You shrug off the towel that’s wrapped protectively over your body and make your way to the pool. You don’t know what you’re being self-conscious for…Taehyung doesn’t usually come back until sunset and it’s barely the afternoon.

You dip your toes in the water first…it’s pretty chilly but you handle it, dipping your body further and further into the water. You shiver just a bit before dunking your head underneath, letting the water consume you. You stay underwater, opening your eyes and staring at the blue nothingness.

“I love you.” He says for the first time, making you float on air. You knew he was going to say it soon, you could feel it but you were not expecting it here.

You two are sitting at Cozy Coffee, your favorite place to relax and read and write. You are in the middle of writing a very intriguing sentence when your fingers stop typing in reaction to his confession.

“You what?” you ask, a small smile adorning your face. “You love me?”

“Yes.” He reaches for your hand across the table, “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I had a feeling.” You tease. “But I…”

“You don’t have to say it yet if you aren’t ready,” he squeezes your hand, “I can wait.”

“No!” you squeeze his hand back, “I…love you too.” You admit softly.

He brings his hand back, folding his hands together out in front of him and sighs out, his breaths escaping him softly.

“These past 6 months with you y/n…” he begins, “Have been the most wonderful.”

“They have been pretty nice, haven’t they?” you smirk. “Tell me your favorite part?”

“Any part where you’re naked, for sure.” He laughs and you gasp.

“Hey! Behave.” You warn with a smile and he keeps laughing.

“I’m serious, this is the best relationship I have ever had. You’re definitely the best girlfriend…all these other girls have been crazy.”

You frown at that, “Why crazy?”

“Ugh, you know how women can get.”

You don’t like the way he said that, you feel your smile twist into another frown.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Because you aren’t like that. You’re different.”

You smile again, once again feeling special with his praise.

“Different how?”

“Jeez, you ask a lot of questions.” He half jokes. “I don’t know, you just are.”

The water is starting to sting your eyes as you continue to hold your breath, memories flooding you. This water isn’t the only thing trying to drown you. You finally squeeze your eyes shut and swim up to the surface, gasping for air once you reach it. You breathe out heavily as you try to catch a breath, your wet hair dripping down your just as wet face. You swim to the edge of the pool and lift yourself up on the ledge and sit with your legs still in the water.

Why do you have to think of him?

After an hour or so that passes and plenty of sun later you decide you’ve had enough of the day outside. You stand to your feet and grab your towel and dry off, draping the towel over your right arm. You’re still pretty wet you admit, but nothing crazy. You head for the house, walking through the back door. Once you enter the house the cool AC hits you, causing you to shiver but you decide a warm shower will solve this. You turn the corner in the hall to head upstairs when your body slams into another body. You run into Taehyung hard causing you to tumble over and fall on top of him.

Taehyung yelps out when he makes contact with you, his body falling to the hard tiled floor and he winces. You fall on top of him, your chest smooshing his face. Yeah, your boobs in his face. That’s what that fucking means. Your wet boobs in his sweaty face.

“What the hell?” Taehyung mumbles between your breasts, “Get off me.”

You’re quick to try to scramble off his body, your hands landing in all the wrong places as you try to lift yourself. He groans loudly when you make contact with his lower hips and his hands go to grab your wrists trying to stop you from moving around so much.

“Chill, chill.” He breathes out slowly, still holding on to your wrists. He makes his way out from beneath you and pulls you up by the wrists.

“I wasn’t this sweaty before you ran into me…” Taehyung observes, “How wet are you?”

“I wasn’t this wet until running into you. How fucking sweaty are you?!”

“Fair.” Taehyung says with a smirk, then he’s blinking at you. “You went swimming today?” he eyes you up and down and you immediately feel insecure under his intense gaze.

“Uh, yeah.” You take the towel that’s draped around your arm and go to cover yourself with it.

“Why are you getting shy now?” as sly smile draws itself on Taehyung’s face. “You didn’t seem this shy just a moment ago with your tits in my face?” he questions with a low voice.

“Oh my god, can we not bring that up?” you begin to blush and you hate yourself for it.

“Why not?”

“It was an accident first of all. There will never be a time again where my boobs are in your face.”

“Oh you’re making the company sad.” Taehyung pouts.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and Taehyung laughs. His laughter dies down though when he shamelessly eyes you again.

“Green is my favorite color.” He says while walking past you and heading upstairs.

You stand here, embarrassed as fucking usual. Your whole body warming up and you don’t even feel that cold AC any longer. You breathe in and breathe out. Taehyung is not making this stay very easy, is he?

~~~~~~

Month: 2

“Don’t you use that blue shell!” You scream at the air around you, your eyes concentrating on the screen ahead.

Taehyung smirks, working his fingers on the controller. God, he can really move his fingers. Wait, why the hell would you think that?

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

You are both totally immersed in your game, the finish line in sight. You jump to your feet in rushed excitement as the finish line is soon approaching. You need this win to tie with him on your ongoing competition in Mario Kart. You’re both oh so close, the anticipation rising. Like, honestly you might shit yourself. Taehyung also leaps to his feet, joining you at your side. Now you are both screaming at the screen, your throats will totally pay for this later. You are jumping up and down, yelling at one another , slamming your fingers on the controllers, harshly pressing down on the accelerator button. You can see it. Its literally right in front of you! AND you are ahead of him! The finish line! Your screams getting louder and louder…when…you are graced with a black screen.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” You yell in unison.

You turn to face Taehyung, the one you hate the most right now. Your eyes dark and your voice low.

“What did you do?”

“ME? I didn’t do anything!” He says accusingly.

“You must have! You knew I was going to win—”

“First of all, we don’t know that.” He cuts you off all matter of fact. So annoying.

You look at him incredulously.

“THAT’S IT! I’m going to strangle you!” Before you can take a step towards him to you know, kill him, the screen turns a bright white, catching your attention. Lucky dude. Your focus now on the screen, you look at it with your head tilted to the side. There are black letters at the top of the screen and you decide to read out loud whatever this caption says.

“Re…Request?” your eyes scan the word slowly. “Oh. Oh shit,” Your eyes go wide, you turn to face Taehyung, his expression mirroring your own. You had completely, like completely forgot about the ‘Requests’. It has been a couple months of silence so how could you not forget? You wonder if this company is finally ready to move …this…along. Whatever this is.

Only seconds pass before more black words appear on the screen. Your eyes stay on Taehyung though, too nervous to read what comes next.

Taehyung must realize you have no intention on reading anymore because he exhales deeply and faces the screen.

“Okay, here goes…” he begins, “The two subjects must…”

[whelvenwings]

who will fall beside you, if you fall

Dean Winchester's been loved in a lot of different ways throughout his life. He was shaped by that love, changed by the expectations and hopes and hurts of the people he cared about. He learned fear and silence and caution. But Castiel's confession, free of expectation, might undo those lessons.

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Endgame Castiel/Dean, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Lisa/Dean Snippet and Minor Cassie/Dean Snippet, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Fallen Angel Castiel Word Count: ~4k

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” Dean said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me.” The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

Read the whole thing below the cut!

Dean was three years old and not quite steady on his feet, still, when his father took him outside to help shovel the snow. In his coat and hat he was a little duffled-up sweetheart, to whom nothing particularly bad had ever happened.

Red-cheeked and grinning, he left small bootprints in the snow.

“Come over here, Dean.” John stood behind Dean and lowered the shovel down to Dean’s height, so that they could hold it and move the snow together. Dean pressed his lips together and frowned as he followed his father’s movements. John’s coat smelled like smoke and the outdoors. They moved one, two, three, four, five big shovel-fulls.

“That’s enough for one day,” said a voice from the porch – Mary, smiling down at the two of them. John carefully lifted the shovel out of Dean’s reach, standing up to his full height. They’d managed to clear just a short stretch of the path that led up to the house.

“But Mom, there’s loads more!” Dean said, pointing to the rest of the pathway.

“Your dad can clear that. You need to come in and have some lunch,” Mary said. “Come on.”

Dean looked up to his father with wide eyes, but John put his hand on the top of Dean’s head and ruffled it so that his hat almost came off.

“Listen to your mom, Dean. In you go.”

Dean’s eyes travelled from his father’s face to his mother’s.

“There’s your favourite for dessert,” Mary said, coaxing him with a little smile.

“Yes!”

Dean made a sudden break for it towards her, running down the path he’d just helped to clear. After the crunch-crunch-crunch of the snow, the cleared pathway was hard under Dean's feet. Hard, and unexpectedly slippery.

“Whoa, there,” said John, as Dean felt his balance go, his feet skidding out from under him – and suddenly he was being lifted, one hand on either side of him. John pulled him up out of the fall, and set him back down in thick snow.

Dean blinked. It had all happened very fast.

“Next time,” John said, giving Dean a little push indoors, “I won’t catch you. You’ve got to learn, Dean.”

–––––

And now Dean was eleven years old and trailing after his father down a quiet midnight street, with a sleepy little brother in tow.

“Dad… are we nearly at the motel?”

“Nearly.”

He’d pay for that question later somehow, and Dean knew it, but because he’d asked there was a new purpose in John’s step. They didn’t stop at the liquor store that Dean knew John had been weighing going into. Walking past it, Dean felt a little break of relief in his chest. They’d get out of the cold sooner, and Sam could get to bed.

“Dean?”

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, keeping walking. Sam was wearing Dean’s coat, swimming in it, the hood pulled up and the elastic tight so only the round circle of his face was visible. It was nearly funny, but they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the humour was shaved off everything.

“Come on,” Dean said.

“I’m cold.”

“I know.” Dean cast a glance forwards at his father’s back. He lowered his voice. “It’s okay. Just a little bit longer.”

Sam made a miserable face. Their breaths were puffs of air between them. Underfoot was the hiss and crunch of melting, slushy snow.

“Can I have soup when we get there?”

“It’s late, Sammy. We’ll have something in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep when I’m hungry…”

“Okay.” Dean cast another worried look towards his father, and then made a meaningful face at Sam when he looked back around. “I’ll find something. I think we have some of that apple juice left over.”

“That’s cold,” Sam said, but he’d quietened his voice, too. “And a drink.”

“You didn’t know?” Dean said, making sure his face was completely straight.

“Know what?”

“That’s the best part,” Dean said. “Cold drinks make you warm up faster.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Dean cursed internally. Every day Sam got a little smarter and a little harder to keep happy.

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

“It is,” Dean promised. “You’ll see.” He thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Maybe we can heat up the apple juice."

“Keep up, boys,” said John’s voice, from too far away. Dean realised he must have slowed down as he’d talked to Sam, even though he’d been trying to hold a steady pace. He reached for Sam’s hand, turning his head at the same time to call back to his father – and as he did so, he felt his balance betray him. His feet slipped in the slush, and in a rush he was a jumble of elbows and knees hitting the ground in all the wrong places.

For a second he sat still, assessing the damage. Nothing broken.

“Are you okay?” Sam said, the dish of his face looking pale and worried above Dean.

“I’m fine… ugh.”

“Get up,” John called, and when Dean turned his head to look, he saw that his father was turning away to keep walking. Dean scrambled to his feet, hands out for balance. His hip ached – he’d landed on it.

“I’m alright,” Dean said to Sam, pulling on a smile. “Let’s go.”

He hurried after John, making sure Sam was beside him, going as fast as he dared until they were right behind their father. His knee was starting to throb, too, and he kept it off his face carefully, because Sam was still glancing up at him.

“Saw you reach for your brother when you were falling,” John grunted. “Don’t do that. If you two’re on your own and both of you go down, you’re both dead. If Sam’s still up, he can go for help.”

“I wasn’t –” Dean tried to say.

“Don’t do it,” John repeated, more forcefully.

They walked on in silence.

––––-

And now Dean was twenty-one years old and stepping out into the brisk air of a winter evening, with his head a little light from the drinks he’d had in the bar at his back.

“Come on,” Cassie said from beside him, her eyes bright with laughter. “You can tell me.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this,” Dean said, as they began to make their way down the street, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“As if you could,” Cassie said.

Dean glanced over at her smile, and thought about the way the shifter he’d taken out earlier that day had looked at him, right before he’d swung the blade through her neck. He swallowed hard.

“I might,” he said, and held his arms a little out from his body. “How long can I contain this much raw aggression, you know?”

“Stop," Cassie said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Seriously, okay, just tell me what your job is.”

“Is it really worth your life?” Dean asked, putting on his most serious face.

“You’re really trying to tell me you’re, what – a spy? A fed?” Cassie asked. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to believe that. With that face?”

“Hey,” Dean said, mock-offended, as they passed closed-up stores and parking bays. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Cassie said, “that’s literally the problem. The FBI don’t hire people who look like you, do they? This is real life, not HBO.”

“Okay,” Dean said, his face working not to look too pleased. Underfoot, the pavement was shiny with ice. Dean started to walk a little slower. “So, if this isn’t the face of a fed, what is it the face of?”

“Mmm. Radio show host?” Cassie laughed when Dean threw her a look. “Well, c’mon, how am I supposed to know? Third date and you still won’t tell me?”

“Just trying to keep the mystery alive,” Dean said, faking an absent kind of tone in the hope that Cassie would drop the subject. The sidewalk was getting more and more treacherous, each of his steps sliding just a little.

“The mystery is too alive,” Cassie said. “It could die a bit. I’d be okay with that.”

“Whoa… careful.” Dean’s foot slipped out from under him, and he only managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto a parking meter that happened to be close by.

“Easy, big shot.” Cassie watched him start to move again, even more tentatively. “Wouldn’t wanna lose the deal with HBO if you fall on that perfect face.”

There was an edge of hurt to her tone of voice, and Dean jaw tightened. Was he ever going to tell her, he wondered. Surely not. She’d hate it. Spending time with Cassie was like visiting a parallel universe. That world didn’t have room for monsters under the bed.

And so Dean kicked them back underneath as hard as he could, and smiled at Cassie, and held out his hand.

Cassie looked down at it, and then back up at him.

“Really?” she said, a smile waiting at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s slippery,” Dean said, and wiggled his fingers temptingly.

“Yeah,” Cassie said with a laugh, pushing his hand away, “it is, asshole. That’s why I’m not letting you take me down with you.”

––––-

And now Dean was thirty-one years old and watching a soccer game, gloves on, hat on, clapping along with the dark-haired woman next to him.

“Come on, Ben!” called Lisa.

“Like we practised, okay, kid?” Dean added, and watched Ben’s face relax into concentration as he placed the ball for his free kick, just a yard outside the penalty box.

“You practised free kicks with him?” Lisa said to Dean, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. Dean glanced down at her; she had her eyes on her son, but there was a little smile on her face.

“A couple times,” Dean said. “He asked.”

“That’s sweet. And I thought you two just watched TV and ate too much pizza together.”

“We do that too,” Dean said. “When I have a say in it.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. On either side of Lisa and Dean, also at the edge of the soccer pitch, were other parents all waiting on Ben to take his kick. They were standing on wet grass, a few of them stamping their feet to keep them from going numb.

Ben took a short run up, swung his leg, made contact. The ball sailed high, dipped – and the goalie caught it neatly.

“Next time,” Dean called out when Ben’s face fell, and gave him a clap. The game played on.

“God, it’s cold,” Lisa said.

“You want my coat?”

Lisa looked up at him, her big brown eyes soft.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“... Right.” Dean smiled awkwardly. Lisa’s would-be compliment hung in the air, sounding more incongruous the longer Dean stood tense and unmoving.

Lisa reached out, and put her hand on his folded arms.

“You wanna order in, tonight?” she said lightly. “Or I could make fajitas.”

“I can cook,” Dean said. “I’ll make burgers.”

“Mmm. Twist my arm.”

Some small burst of relief, there. Dean’s expression eased. He put his hands in his pockets, lifted his chin, as though remembering the role he was playing. Who he was, now.

He shifted his feet – and felt his right foot slide, almost right out from under him. He steadied himself, hands out to the sides, looking down at the grass.

“Careful,” Lisa said.

“Jesus,” Dean said at the same time.

“Come here,” Lisa said, holding out her hand.

Dean smiled.

“It’s all good,” he said, reaching out and giving the hand a squeeze, and then letting go quickly.

“Can’t have the head chef breaking his arm,” Lisa said, her hand still out.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Dean, would you hold my hand?”

“We’ll both go over,” Dean said.

“Mm-mm. I’ll hold you up.”

Her expression allowed no argument. Unwillingly, Dean allowed her to loop their arms together, Lisa pinning Dean to her side and turning back to the game, calling out to support Ben as he went for a tackle. Dean stood quietly. He was having to lean down ever so slightly so that Lisa could keep his arm tucked under hers.

He tried very hard not to move. Just the smallest slide of his feet and he’d be over and he’d take her with him. Every muscle in his legs was clenched, forcing himself not to slip.

After just a minute or so of stiff silence, Lisa sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “you win.”

She let go.

––––-

And now Dean was forty-one years old and walking down a street in Lebanon, Kansas, on legs that still felt a little new. The cold air was harsh; he took in a deep breath.

He went to cross the road, and a car gave a screech as it swerved suddenly to avoid him. The driver made a few different gestures at him through the window, and Dean held up a hand in apology.

It was easy to forget that things didn’t part and make way on Earth like they had done in Heaven.

“Couldn’t fix that for me, could you?” Dean said aloud. “Not that I’m not grateful for the ticket home, Cas, but Heaven had its perks.”

Silence. Dean kept walking, with only the slightest slump to his shoulders and crease on his brow. Lebanon was wearing snow like a big white coat. Dean’s boots crunched in it when he stepped off the gritted path to let a mother with a stroller go by.

“I should probably stop expecting to see you round every corner, huh,” he said. “Been a week now. And I keep wandering around thinking you might show up just ‘cause I’m looking.” Someone passing gave him a slightly frightened look and a wide berth as he walked by, talking to himself. Just another thing no one had much noticed in Heaven: the prayers. Dean frowned, and ducked his head. Tucked his hands in his pockets.

He walked quietly for some time.

Long enough for his hands to come back out of his pockets, and his shoulders to lose their self-conscious hunch. Long enough for the hurt in his eyes to seem nearer the surface.

“Might not even have been you that got me out of Heaven,” Dean said, his tone quiet, as though picking up the thread of a half-finished conversation.

A pause, in which he walked. Passed by other people, made no eye contact. Dean meandered a little as he went, as though his mind were elsewhere.

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” he said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me,” he said. The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

He swallowed.

“It feels like I have to do something, though.”

He kept walking.

“Or, I don’t know. Maybe I just want to.”

He breathed out.

Emotions were crossing his face, too fast to catch one alone, too swift to parse. He looked down at his feet, watching where he stepped.

“If I had what I wanted,” he said, “you’d be here.” After a pause, he rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s news to you. Like, wow, right? Not as though I’ve ever asked, after all.” Another silence, and then he said, “But you know, I – it’s not that I just want to… fix it, or… finish things off. It’s not… I’m not…” He pressed his lips together, smiled wryly. “Jesus. I hope you can’t hear this. I’m not making any sense. I’m just trying to say, I want you here, man. I want you here to stay.”

A little flicker of light seemed to touch Dean’s eyes.

“You could stay now,” he said, “right? You could actually stay. If you wanted to. And we could…” He stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

A car drove by, and the child in the backseat stared out the window at him. Dean blinked back to reality.

“We didn’t have time to think about what we wanted,” he said into the quiet of the parking lot, when the car had passed and he was walking again. “All this time. Or maybe you did. But I didn’t.” He looked upwards, towards the iron sky. “And now there’s time, Cas, and all I’m thinking about is you.” He looked down. “I said that already.”

He moved on, stepping out the other side of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“I remember you said that the… the thing you want, you can’t have.” Dean took in a breath and let it go. “I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t. Whatever it is, man, you deserve it.”

His feet carried him onward.

“You gotta be sick of hearing me talk at this point. But I just…” Dean’s eyes glanced over the snowy Lebanon street in front of him, and he crossed the road. “I just want you here. Maybe I should take a damn hint.” His voice strained, hurt betraying the attempt at levity in his tone. “But you said… I keep thinking back on what you said. About how you feel. And I, uh. You know. If you’d just let me…”

Dean lifted his hands, a little helplessly, into the air as he walked, as though wanting to give something invisible to someone who wasn’t there. He dropped them awkwardly, his expression creasing.

He was circling back around towards the mall, his footsteps pointing him towards home. He looked heavy, weary. The lines on his face were deep, and his eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

The people around him paid him no attention. He was just part of the crowd. They swirled across his path and around him, irrelevant to him, not seeing him. Except –

Dean came to a sudden stop. His gaze sharpened.

Twenty feet away from him, standing completely still, was a figure. Not struggling with carrier bags or strollers or wallets and keys like the other shoppers going into and out of the mall. Utterly stone still.

Tall, almost as tall as Dean. Wearing a long coat. Brown-haired. Impassive.

Watching Dean as though waiting for him.

And Dean visibly blossomed. His mouth fell slightly open, his shoulders loosened, one hand reached out unconsciously.

“Cas?” he said, disbelieving – and Dean saw a slight smile appear on Castiel’s face, and the angel slightly raised one hand in greeting.

Warmth touched Dean’s eyes, rising up as though from a great depth. He began to move, at first taking care on the slippery sidewalk. But his feet hurried him, and he was walking fast and then he was almost running, caution forgotten, eyes on Castiel’s.

It was when he was only a few steps away that his foot hit a patch of black ice. His arms went out, struggling to balance him – Castiel moved forward, one hand out – Dean reached for him on instinct, grasping his arm, his body relaxing in obvious expectation of Castiel being able to pull him upright –

But Castiel’s weight tilted along with Dean’s, and the ground gave them both a hard and cold welcome. There were some muttered ooohs from people passing by, and a few of them came to awkward stops nearby.

Dean landed hard on his back, head hitting the cement. He stared for a moment up at the sky. It had all happened very fast.

He sat up, and saw Castiel kneeling beside him, inspecting his own hands.

“Fuck,” Dean said. He put a hand to the back of his head. No blood.

“Are you okay?” said someone behind Dean, and he waved them off.

“All good,” he said, seeing in his peripheral vision that the people who’d stopped to look were moving on. He looked at Castiel. “Are you… you’re…”

Castiel stopped staring down at his hands, and looked at Dean instead. His blue eyes searched Dean’s face. Under his gaze, Dean smiled – a smile that grew on his face from a tiny brightness in his eyes until his whole face was alight with it.

“It’s you,” he said. "Damn, Cas, it's really you."

“It’s me,” Castiel confirmed. His voice held a recognition of Dean’s smile, a reciprocal warmth.

“You’re here.”

“I heard you,” Castiel said.

“You heard me? Just now?”

��Yes.”

Dean nodded. He was breathing a little fast. His gaze searched Castiel’s face, partly seeming to be looking for something, partly seeming already to have found it. People were stepping around them to get inside the mall.

“It’s good to see you,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled too, at last.

“But you know,” Dean added, “you could’ve just appeared right next to me instead of a whole freaking mile away on a slippery sidewalk. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Ah.” Castiel, still on his knees beside where Dean was sitting, dropped his gaze. “That was, in fact, not under my control. Jack sent me down here. After I asked him to do something for me.”

Castiel looked down at his hands again, and this time Dean looked too. His expression broke into slight surprise when he saw red on Castiel’s palms, at the sight of the blood – and then the surprise came in a second, deeper wave, as realisation hit.

“Cas,” he said.

“Just a graze,” Castiel said calmly.

“But you – you’re – that’s not supposed to happen,” Dean said. He reached out, and took Castiel’s hands in his own, inspecting the little scrapes on the skin. “You can’t get hurt like this.”

“Well,” Castiel said, “I can, now.”

“But you’re…” Dean stared at Castiel, seeming suddenly caught in consternation.

“Staying,” Castiel finished for him.

Wide-eyed, still sitting on the sidewalk, Dean took this in. Something light crossed his face, then anger, then confusion.

“I heard you,” Castiel reminded him. Dean stared at him.

“What I said?”

“Yes.”

“About staying?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you want that?”

Despite the hustle of people around them, the crunch-crunch of their boots in the snow and the harshness of their voices, Dean and Castiel might have been the only two people in the world when Castiel said,

“Yes, Dean.”

“So, but – before, in the bunker, with the Empty, when you said – the thing – the thing you said you wanted –”

Castiel looked down at their hands. Dean’s holding Castiel’s.

Dean tightened his grip.

“Just that?” he said, his voice sounding thick.

Castiel said nothing, words seeming to fail him.

They stared at each other. Hands in hands, touching, Castiel bleeding. Dean didn’t let go.

“It’s yours,” Dean said roughly.

“You mean…” Castiel’s eyes were suddenly wide. “You mean that you…”

“Since pretty much day one. I just never thought you’d want that from me.”

The world moved past and around them. They didn’t notice. Castiel was radiating happiness in every body line, though he was unmoving. Dean was watching him as though afraid he might disappear in the space of a blink.

"Is this real?" he said. "My head hurts enough for it to be real."

Castiel nodded.

“You’re really staying,” Dean said.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

After enough time under the steadiness of Castiel’s gaze, it seemed finally to sink in for Dean – the truth of it, the reality of it. Dean breathed out.

He swallowed. He looked down.

He smiled.

“We should get home, then,” he said.

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he gave a nod made small by emotion.

“Oh. I’m sorry, though,” Dean said, his eyes catching on Castiel’s small injuries now that he was looking down again. His thumb lightly touched the place where blood was drying on Castiel’s palm. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have run at you.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, getting to his feet and pulling Dean up with him, their hands not letting go.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel said, his blood on Dean’s hands, and still holding them. “Don’t be.”

[honeypiehotchner]

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love). 

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.  

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

[aquaticstyles]

unchained

A while ago I was asked for a “Have You Ever Been In Love” sequel, and while this is probably not the direction you guys were expecting, this is what I came up with. Also, this one’s (loosely) inspired by the song “Scott Street” by the lovely Phoebe Bridgers (highly recommend listening to the spotify sessions version while listening). Fun fact, for forever I misheard the lyrics, thinking she was saying “unchained” instead of “ashamed.” After noticing that I have, in fact, been wrong this entire time, I realized I kinda liked my version better (sorry Phoebe). And, me being me, I ran with it and it spun into this quick, 1.4k part two. Reblogs + feedback help so much! Enjoy!! xx, Jane 

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry’s heart stops.

The question catches him off guard, and not just because he’s not used to interviewers asking such personal ones (he guesses this is what he signed up for when he agreed to be the first male flying solo on the cover of Vogue). It makes his heart stop because of his answer, because of the woman that had once asked him the same exact question.

Harry has never been one to linger in his sadness; he finds it unproductive, and quite honestly, completely depressing. After a break up, one can find the caramel-colored curls belonging to the world’s latest phenomenon sweating out his sorrow, or frustration, at the gym, pounding the boxing bag again and again and again. “Nothing another set can’t fix,” his trainer, Mike, would often tease the man in denial, knowing good and well by his posture upon entering the ring, slumped shoulders and an ever-present crease between his eyebrows, that another one had bit the dust the night prior. Mike had learned fairly quickly to never ask questions, to simply let Harry work out his emotions as he pleases, even if that means letting him walk out with wrapped fists masking throbbing, crimson knuckles.

Harry has never been one to talk about his sadness either; he finds it prolongs the pain rather than diminishing it, an annoying gnat swarming around an abnormally large bite from a crisp apple, halting his progression in enjoying his afternoon snack because he just can’t catch the bloody thing. His sister has tried to break him from his stubborn ways, even resulting to getting the lanky man drunk off tequila in hopes of him finally opening up about his incessant missed targets; however, that only ever ends up with Gemma’s arms holding up the giggling teddy bear and folding his bulky body into a taxi, mimicking cramming a cotton ball into a straw. Therapy was suggested and waved off with an inked palm, because if he doesn’t want to talk to his sister about it, how on earth is he supposed to talk to a stranger?

Never-ending claims of “I’m fine,” and “It just didn’t work out,” and “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” and “It wasn’t even that serious.” Sure, each breakup took a little something out of the man that insisted he was “fine,” but eventually, a couple dozen inked journal pages later, Harry would be back to his normal, happy-go-lucky, perfectly-kind self.

All of these rang true for most of Harry’s young adulthood.

All of these were common occurrences, that is, until Harry met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Selfless, but not in an over-bearing, walk-all-over-me kind of way. Funny, but not in an underlying-hatred, fake-laugh kind of way. Genuine, but not in a look-at-me, fake kind of way. Honest, in a I-want-to-know-everything-that-makes-you-you, ask-you-questions-until-the-sun-rises kind of way. Drop-dead-gorgeous in the most unbelievable, glowing, ethereal, kind of way that he constantly reminded you of. You were the perfect balance, the missing diamond to even out the coal on the other end of the scale.

Loving you felt like the ocean.

In the morning when there’s a hazy screen covering your lenses, clouding the soft sunlight in a muted, white-washed filter. It’s more gray, yet still golden as the shining mass of fire lazily rises from its slumber. It’s calm, clouds stretched apart like cobwebs in the faded blue sky above, waves leisurely, almost too relaxed, crashing along the bleached shore then disappearing back into the horizon. Still sleepy, still new, an entire day ahead of you.

In the afternoon when the sun is at its highest and hottest, radiating down ultraviolet rays that burn your skin, causing alarmingly red shoulders in need of aloe that soon progressively heal and turn into a bronzed exterior. Speckles of light dancing upon excited waves, similar to a neighborhood of children dressed in pink polka dots and orange overalls running towards the ice cream truck filled to the brim with dreams of sugary stomachaches. It’s saturated, every color its brightest and loudest, pops of cerulean and coral. It’s a blanket of comfort, a suffocating scarf. It’s sweet. It’s sour. A cool glass of lemonade sinking into a bed of quicksand. Annoying and astonishing.

In the night, when the yellowing presence is long gone in the awakening of the moon, the deepest indigo swirling in between pockets of stars dotted and flecked into the atmosphere like freckles. It’s black and blue. You don’t know where the earth stopss and the water begins, familiarity lost as the waves erase each new footprint in the sand. The tide is an abuser, sweet as it sings you in, terrifying as it pulls you under. Skinny dipping, vulnerable, exciting, adrenaline, heart thumping, diving, sinking, drowning.

The morning, the afternoon, the night. The happening, the honeymoon, the heartbreak.

Ever since it ended, everything Harry had ever known was cast aside, thrown out like a Gucci jumper from last season. For the first time in his twenty-six years of living, fourteen of those juggling the obstacles that relationships can and will bring, Harry was irreversibly numb, a pair of frozen, gloveless fingertips blue from the icy wind. Not only did he linger in the gut-wrenching grief, he was absorbed by it. Instead of waking up each morning tucked into the bare side of your body diffusing innocent warmth, sipping a steaming cup of black coffee received by hands much smaller than his own, he woke up with a stranger laying on his chest, cold, with a pounding headache the bottle of whiskey had gladly supplied from the night before. The days felt as if they lasted an eternity, time stuck in slow-motion, tick, tick, ticking, one second, one and a half, one and three quarters, two. He watched the seasons pass, the grass dying and regenerating into its natural emerald shade from his bedroom, dust pocketing in the corners of a picture frame containing two pairs of sparkling eyes and genuine, toothy grins sitting on the windowsill. Nights consisted of him lying sleepless on his back, eyes wide awake, thumbs twiddling as the echoes of helicopters overhead drone in and out. Dozens of missed calls remained unanswered: Mum, Gem, Mitch, Mike, Adam, Sarah, Mum, Mum, Gem, Mum, Mike, Mitch, Gem, Mitch, Mum…

He was stuck, a pancake glued to an ungreased pan, charred. It was when this melancholy had prolonged for nearly its sixth month, and all at home remedies (which included drinking, writing, drinking because he was writing, and writing because he was drinking) failed to provide any peace that he decided to give in to the recommendations from almost every single one of his friends: therapy. After the first session, he was ready to book it and sprint off to a deserted island with nothing but a coconut filled with rum to accompany his solitude. Turns out that one session was the mento to his coca cola of bottled-up emotions, exploding months’ worth of buried feelings and memories in an hour. It took the will of God (and Gemma purposefully lying and telling him they were going to get lunch) to get Harry back in the baby-pink-painted interior of his therapist’s office. After months of talking, sorting, compartmentalizing, yelling, crying, healing, unpacking, and reflecting, Harry tackled down the closure he had been chasing. A year and an album later, when he heard your name, he no longer felt trapped, heart beating rapidly, trying desperately to break apart his ribcage, he felt unchained—a prisoner uncaged, pounds and pounds of metal unlocked from his wrists, free.

Before, your name was paired with a colorless photo album, snapshots of vibrancy draining into black and white, frozen, lifeless, still.

Now, your name resembled a film reel of the best moments, your sweater hanging in his closet, your arm thrown around his mother’s shoulder in a polaroid candid, your laugh echoing in the acoustics of his shower after you nearly slipped on the lavender bubbles coating sudsy toes, your hands massaging his scalp, twisting curls into detailed plaits, your foamy lips smushing against a stubbled cheek, leaving remnants of peppermint mocha in the winter air, your satin skirt contrasting from his purple flares in his backyard, playing thumb war and whispering confessions in the moonlight. The good memories built a brick wall to block out the bad, dimming the light of your downfall.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question echoes again in Harry’s ears, causing a grin and a dimple to pop into his cheek. The fuzzies. Once, twice, three times. Click, shake, tape.

“Yeah, I have.”

[random-tinies]

Crowza - 2

Hey, I’m on AO3 too! It’ll be the first thing updated when I finish a chapter from now on, but only by like, a few hours. :P I’ll be updating this fic on the first of every month so you guys know when to expect it next. This was sitting in my Docs almost done for weeks and I finally sat down and went “I’m writing the rest of this.” and did it, so here’s chapter two!

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AO3 Link 

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Sunlight filters through the branches and leaves of the old oak. Phil lifts a wing over his face, grumbling about how the sun is always at the perfect angle to blind him every morning. Of course, he does this song and dance every spring. He’s not exactly an early bird, which is why he never blocks it. It helps him get up in the morning.

The tiny bird hybrid resigns to his fate and sits up, blinking blearily at his old home. A torn picture of his boys hangs on the far end of the hollow. He grins, happy to be greeted by their faces. The photo had been yoinked last year when it fell out of Tommy’s jacket during one of his more daring excursions. Always so chaotic, that one, Philza chuckles to himself as the thought crosses his mind. Good memories.

He walks to his stash of nuts and jerky and various other bits of food he collected and preserved the autumn before migration. He crafts a quick granola bar, thanking his lucky stars that chocolate is so easily preserved, and enjoys a sweet homemade breakfast. Pleased chirps escape him as he basks in the perfect simplicity of it all.

Today is full of plans. A lot can happen in a few months and Phil needs to make sure there’s no new predators in the area that might get the jump on him, so he’s going to patrol the area. His territory needs to be safe. He’s always very careful about going about this. It’s rare, but if humans decide to start building near him, he’d need to know.

That and he needs somewhere to get coffee. He’d think that centuries of drinking the stuff would convince him to invent a tiny coffee machine, but why create something that will break eventually when he can just sneak into a human’s house and borrow enough to last him a month of two? Of course, he won’t be borrowing that much today, but the next time all three boys leave the house, he’s certainly going to stock up. Today, he just needs a little pick-me-up.

Phil walks to the edge of his home and ducks under the branches protecting it from outsiders, then hops up them like a staircase to get the best vantage point to take off flying. A low mist hovers over the pine forest, the sun’s rays burning away at it and painting the morning in brilliant hues of gold. Phil launches himself into the air, powerful flaps disturbing the mist and sending him high above the trees. The sky above is void of clouds as he spreads his wings and coasts. The air he breathes chills his lungs but the morning sun provides a warm contrast to the feeling. Appreciation for the peace fills his chest as if it were something physical.

Spring truly is his favorite season. The crisp scent of pines and melting snow permeates the air. A few shy birds send their song up, declaring their presence to the world. This is home, this is where he loves to be, where he longs to be every winter when he has to migrate south. Occasionally, a crow joins him in the air, lazily flapping in the soft breeze.

Phil casts his eyes towards the ground, watching for any stray movements. He’d heard of mountain lions moving into the area from Kristin. They’re fleeing the forest fires west of them, she’d said. She thought maybe they were the cause of the odd feeling she has and Phil was inclined to agree, but you can never be too careful. Eventually, after finding nothing, he flies to the humble house his boys call home.

When the birdman reaches the cabin that houses his boys and nothing is amiss, he decides to land in a nearby tree and rest. The sun had climbed to about midday and he has yet to find anything that would tip him off. He fluffs his feathers as a chill sets in, the branches and needles of the tree warding off the sunlight, and takes out some squirrel jerky he packed for lunch. Perhaps it simply isn’t time to find this ominous omen Kristin gave him and he’s jumping the gun.

The door to the home opens and two people step out. It’s the blonde and brunette from the previous day. Philza watches them as they talk about something with low voices. It’s a bit odd to hear the youngest one talking so softly. Tommy’s usually boisterous and loud, throwing banter back and forth with Wilbur and giving the occasional sibling shove.

Philza hums as he takes another bite of jerky. When he goes on his coffee run inside the house, perhaps he’ll look for any clues. The thought that something could be wrong with them twists a knot of worry in his stomach. A chill goes down his spine as he realizes he hasn’t seen Techno out and about these last few days. He forgets any plans to raid the house later and throws all caution to the wind. Oh Ender, please let him be okay and not deathly ill or something.

Tommy and Wilbur climb into the red pickup next to their house and drive away. Phil immediately swoops down out of his tree and soars the short distance to the old cabin, flapping to slow himself so he can land quietly. It was his saving grace that they like to decorate the windows so he doesn’t crash into them all the time. He flap-hops around the house until he finds a window cracked open and slowly opens it further so he can crawl inside. It’s harder to find open windows further into the season since so many bugs come out.

He listens hard and looks around for any movement, staying stock still.

Nothing, the house is silent, save for the crackle of the fireplace.

He carefully steps in further, wings poised to take off at any given moment. The inside is just as cozy as the outside. The walls are decorated with photos of the trio, of a family Philza has watched grow up over the years. It’s surprisingly clean, the hand-knitted rainbow blanket folded over the back of the old leather couch. It smells like pine smoke and coffee, and bacon. Phil would find it funny if he wasn’t so worried for Techno at that moment. He hops about the living room, making his way towards the kitchen. If he can’t find anything here, he may as well get some coffee.

There’s nothing amiss on the coffee table. Phil’s claws leave tiny indentations on the softwood as he walks across it. The lamp next to him offers a little bit of light but he can see fine with the natural light coming through the windows. There’s an ad for an animal shelter in the newspaper, a comic making fun of teenagers with phones, news of the new president, and an article about a pipeline being built sometime next year. The birdman frowns at that, making a mental note. He’ll need to put an end to that before it ruins his home. He shakes his head. Right now is not the time! He needs to see if there’s anything wrong! His gaze gets caught by the fashion magazine open to a page on robes and turns a few pages, admiring the modern clothes that differ so much from his own- Oh right! Techno!

He flaps into the kitchen and trots across the counter towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. Today is circled in red with the word “ADOPTION” in messy, bold lettering. Adoption? Techno and Wilbur aren’t married, right? They can’t adopt children, right? Confusion replaces the worry in his mind but he shrugs. As far as Phil can tell by all the clues, Techno isn’t in any danger and it’s safe to get some coffee from the pot on the counter opposite of him. He hops over and crouches on the edge, dipping his rabbit-skin waterskin in and filling it full of the delicious drug.

There’s a cough from upstairs in the attic and Philza nearly jumps out of his skin. His feet slip on the edge of the pot and his wings flare out to make up for the sudden loss of balance. The mug next to him falls off the counter and shatters on the linoleum flooring with a loud crash. Oh god, oh fuck. There’s no way Techno didn’t hear that. The bird hybrid quickly reaches into the pot and retrieves his waterskin and swiftly flies back to the window, heart pounding.

He knows he’s leaving a few feathers behind, but it doesn’t matter as long as he himself doesn’t get caught. He can hear the telltale creaks of a ladder as he takes off into the open air again, inhaling deeply and landing back in his tree. What was he thinking?! Going to check on one of the beans?! He put himself in unnecessary danger just for some person he got way too attached to!

From the safety of his branch, Phil watches Techno shut the window he’d made his escape from. The piglin hybrid seems fine, no hint of any severe illnesses. The cough didn’t even sound that bad, like he was just clearing his throat. That was too close. He can’t let it happen again. Phil takes a swig of his coffee and flies off to keep scouting out his territory. I’m going to give myself a nice preen tonight, he thinks as he coasts over the trees. That nearly gave me a heart attack.

He goes back to doing his routine check-ups and patrolling around his territory, promising himself he would do better to keep himself safe. Surely he’s not losing his edge, right? Surely not…

[gandrewheadcannons]

I wanted to share some writing I had done earlier this summer with you all! If you like it let me know if I should continue? It’s meant to be a story focusing around the beginning of their time in Washington and into the podcast. I’ve left it at a really weird stop but that’s all I had so far.

Title: Undetermined

Pairing: Garrett Watts/Andrew Siwicki

Tags: Mention of prescription medicine, mention of Jeffree/Shane/Ryland, unfinished

Evening is dimly creeping through the half-opened windowpane casting a glow across the built-in table connected to the cramped inner wall of Andrew's microscopic kitchenette. His studio apartment in LA sat cramped in-between Hollywood and Calabasas, a mediocre waypoint for his work for the last few years. He clicks the viewfinder and focuses on the bright oranges and yellows that dance teasingly across the glittering tabletop; catching flicks of sliver and reflecting them back to the lens. A mug of dark roast with just an edge of too much cream is left forgotten in the corner of the frame. It feels cinematic and lonely all at once. The cafe style booth he sits in causes his back to ache, the rest of the kitchen a sterile and unforgiving white, but he misses capturing the day to day beauty the world had to offer. He imagines the reel being played back with a layered sound of twinkling windchimes, quiet laughter and a piano reverb with cuts of the morning sunrise on a hike and steam off the top of a ceramic mug. A familiar face with flecks of blonde in the beard, strong jawed and a roguish smile weaving in and out of the frame, turning back to laugh at something the cameraman said.

“-with a mandate like this.” Garrett is brushing his teeth through Facetime. Andrew catches the corner of his bamboo toothbrush flashing in and out of the lens. He must have laid his Iphone flat on the countertop because when Andrew really looks he can see the bottom of the mirror and a bunch of bright light.

“I know. It sucks. Couldn’t get honey the other day, man. Fucking honey. It’s not like the bees are going anywhere.” He laughs but it doesn’t feel funny. The minimal supply he had was dwindling thin. He was beginning to ration his meals and he wasn’t sure how much toilet paper was left under the bathroom sink. It was all very apocalyptic without any of the zombies or scientists swooping in with immediate remedies.

“Ah dude.” Garrett spits and there’s a tapping sound like he’s hitting his toothbrush on the edge of the porcelain sink before he fully pops into frame. He looks relaxed, sandy hair flopped to one side and beard properly scruffy though they’d only been locked down about a week and a half now. “I know. I can’t handle it anymore. I miss people.” Andrew hums at that. He doesn’t really. He misses the occasional gathering, sure, but he hadn’t quite placed his anxiety surrounding the idea of seeing others since they’d released the Jeffree series. "What was it that bothered you most about taking part in this?" His therapist had asked him. "I missed the fun," he’d answered. "What was the fun?" She’d pressed deeper. "Garrett," Andrew had been quick to reply. "And like. Everyone else too." He'd added when she hadn't said anything. "I miss it not feeling work." She had let him talk about that instead.

"Some people." He tacks on to Garrett who hums easily. He doesn’t think he misses many of the people he’d spent most of 2019 with, his life a mixed cocktail of Ambien, Adderall and Lexapro without any feelings of relaxation manifesting. His psychiatrist had discouraged upping his doses anymore and by early January she began urging him to begin seeking new opportunities to “work on his environment”. He hadn’t quite figured out the avenue to take to do just that.

"Well, some people." Garrett agrees and he's already back out on his couch. "I don't know how many more times I can watch Winter Soldier before I freak out." Garrett sighs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Same as you and every other person." He turns his camera off. He needs the break from the screen.

"I miss you." Garrett is easy like that. He isn't ashamed to tell people how he feels in every moment. It was something to be admired and yet Andrew just felt envy at it. When Garrett had begun to slip away from him, melting like honeydew sweet and sour into a depth of a place where Andrew couldn't quite find him, he'd only managed to grab him back out by Garrett's honesty. Doesn't know if they'd be having this conversation if Garrett hadn't used that honesty like an anchor and letting Andrew catch him last minute with it.

"I can come over." Andrew offers. He hates being confined in these walls anyways. It was hollow and dark. The email from Shane still sat open on his Mac across the room on his bed. Thinking of extending the break, can't really decide. Want to get quarantined together? I have a few video ideas we could maybe mess around with or just film some day to day footage until creativity strikes us it reads. His skin itches for the company but the image of their guest room makes him uneasy. Doesn't know if he could withstand being there with very little to fill his hands with, editing complete and no real ideas on the table for the time being.

"I can come to you." Garrett offers like he was inconveniencing Andrew who had offered anyways.

"If you touch your car right now I am going to freak out Garrett Watts." Andrew admonishes. "The second they open up the garages and mechanics again I'm making you take that thing there, burn it and we get a new one." He's opening a duffle now and throwing in his travel toiletries and a few pairs of underwear.

"Oh come on Andrew it's not so bad." Garrett laughs as if Andrew wasn't still reeling from the aftermath phone call of Garrett nearly wrecking on the 101 barreling top speeds until he reached a secluded patch of grass to slow his Pirus down onto. By the time Andrew heard the story Garrett was okay; Michael had gone to pick him up and Garrett was sending pictures of little Star Wars figurines that Michael kept mounted on his dashboard. His heart didn’t calm until he had managed to get his hands on Garrett in person though, sneaking out for an afternoon to grab some coffee with Garrett before heading back to Shane’s to finish editing. His shins still feel heavy with the weight of Garrett’s calf as he’d pressed their knees together until the table while they’d talked – the weight reminding him of how alive and okay Garrett really was.

"Oh yeah a car that dies out randomly is really great." Andrew throws in a box of protein bars and a Gatorade into his bag. He hesitates before grabbing a stitched bear made from gray yarn, green buttons for eyes luring him in. "I'll be over soon." He doesn't know how well the conversation will hold up over Facetime as he's moving.

"Okay cool Andrew." Garrett's eyes are soft. "See you soon. My dad is actually calling."

"Tell him I said hi. See you soon." He so easily could tack on endearment, babe at the tip of his tongue burning hot. Garrett's ending the call before Andrew even has the chance.

**

The half opened can of frosting is across from, the only lights on are the ones twinkling from some intricate set up Garrett had on a shelf. Garrett’s on the third loop of the home screen on Prime, humming thoughtfully whenever he pauses on a summary to read but then continuing to scroll before picking one. He’s slumped down low, long legs kicked out on the coffee table while Andrew is curled up in a ball against his side. Once, Caleb had pointed out that if people didn’t know them they’d get the impression that they were dating. Garrett and Andrew had awkwardly laughed at that comment, tinged with humiliation at how their relationship was being interpreted. They tried to be better then, not letting themselves fall so in sync when other people were around.

Andrew loved it like this though, when it was just him and Garrett, so he could press his cheek into Garrett’s bicep and not have to question why it felt so right. In his left hand his phone illuminated with another message from Shane. Opening it he read a message about how much they all missed him and wanted him there during this time. Apparently Ryland was looking for someone to help film a video he had planned. He quickly shut the screen off and pulled back from Garrett some, his stomach in a sudden tangle of knots.

“Good?” Garrett asked him looking down. His crew neck was for Spokane and looked a little like the Taco Bell logo from when they were younger. He’d paired it with a pair of sweat shorts for the night as they were both supposed to be going to bed soon. Andrew picked at his own Adidas track pants, imagining a loose thread to busy his hands.

“You ever just. Feel like you gotta get out?” He tilts his head to the side and watches Garrett pause what he’s doing with his Playstation controller and set it carefully on his coffee table.

“In what way?” He asks thoughtfully, turning so his chest was open to Andrew. Their knees bumped and Andrew felt like a little boy when he wished he could crawl and hide in the empty space of Garrett’s lap.

“Like okay. Say you just really loved what you used to do. You basically achieved your dream job. You have all these amazing people, you like your boss, things are going really great and you’re making a lot of money.”

“You buy yourself a really good vacuum.” Garrett plays along teasingly causing them both to laugh.

“You get yourself those stackable containers for your meal prepped lunches.” Andrew plays back. “But then…” He runs his tongue inside his teeth then outside methodically. He searches his brain to try to figure out what to say to Garrett to

“Then?” He drums his fingers on Andrew’s knees to get him back to the present.

[captain-jensen]

Big Fan pt.2

Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: A couple of weeks after your initial interview turned date turned kiss, your interviews with the cast come out and people can’t get enough of yours and Toms’ chemistry. Also, for this fic Y/Y/N is Your Youtube Name. 

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff.

(I just thought this GIF was adorable)

   Your life has felt like a whirlwind for the past couple of weeks. Even though Tom was away doing the rest of his press-tour, you guys kept with each-other all day. He was always sending you funny texts about his recent junket, or sending you cute selfies whenever he could and you always returned the sentiment. Since that first night you had found it very hard to concentrate. Even though you were in the middle of filming a new review for another movie you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the first kiss you two shared... and the following make-out sessions that happened over the course of that weekend. When Tom had to leave town you were devastated, but you knew it was necessary, just like it was necessary for you to finish your own work. While reviewing some footage for your newest video you got a text from your manager that was handling the publication of the interviews you did with the Spider-Man cast saying that the video was going live tomorrow. You were really excited for these junkets to come out. All of them went so well and you were really proud of yourself. Elated about the news you decide to share it with Tom. I can’t wait to watch xx, he responded. 

   When you wake up the next morning you shoot out of bed remembering what was happening today. You immediately check Youtube to see that your junket was trending. After watching the video you were even more happy with yourself, feeling like you might be able to properly pursue this press career. Completely forgetting to even check the comments, you move on with your day. As your coffee is brewing you check your phone to see a bunch of texts from a mix of your manager, your best-friend, and Tom. Responding to Tom’s sweet ‘good morning’ texts first you move down the line. Getting to your manager next it’s a flurry of exclamation points and praises. Finally, getting to your best-friend the first text you see is Why didn’t you tell me???!!!!!. Responding with confusion, you ask them what they’re talking about. All they do is tell you to read the comments on the junket. 

Omg, Tom was flirting with the interviewer so bad!!!!!

New ship: Tom Holland and Y/Y/N 

Y/Y/N’s new video is definitely gonna be the boyfriend tag!!!!!

I cannot handle the chemistry between Tom and Y/Y/N

That was singlehandedly the cutest interview I’ve ever seen. 

    You stand in shock in the middle of your kitchen. Even though no-one was around you could feel your face heating up. Not only did people think you and Tom were flirting back and forth, but they actually shipped you guys! You had to talk to Tom about your possible next move. You text him asking if he’s available to talk. You didn’t know it but that text caused fear to spike in Tom’s heart. He immediately responded saying he has the next half an hour free. Awaiting your call Tom tries to stop his speeding heart and convince himself that you’re not trying to end things already. He’s taken out of his mind when his phone starts ringing and your picture comes up on the screen. He rapidly answers it “Hey darling, how are things?” he tries to sound calm. 

“I’m good, did you see our interview together today?”

“No not yet, I’ll pull it up right now” Opening Youtube he sees the video is trending. “No way! It’s on the front page! Congratulations sweetheart, that’s awesome!” 

“Well I can’t exactly take all the credit for that Tom. I mean, your face is the thumbnail. But besides that, you have to see the comments” 

   Scrolling through the comments Tom feels a blush creeping up his own face. “Wow, that is quite the response” is all he can say. He’s worried that you’ll be annoyed with the fact that instead of people focusing on your interview skills they’re solely concentrating on the fact that he was smitten with you. 

“Yeah. What do you make of it?” you decide to ask, not being able to gauge his facial reaction. 

“I mean. I was caught red-handed I guess. What about you?” he asks equally as nervous as you are.

“I’m not sure yet. I think it’s sweet but at the same time something about it feels weird” You respond. In truth you were ecstatic that people thought you’d make such a cute couple. At the same time however, you didn’t want it to possibly scare Tom off. He deals with this stuff all the time, and it probably got annoying after a while. 

“Look, I’m not bothered by it if you aren’t” Tom says, breaking your thoughtful silence. 

“I’m not really bothered by it either.” You reassure him. 

“Ok, good. Maybe we shouldn’t respond though, until we’re both equally comfortable” 

“I agree” Even though you were happy with the interaction you were having with Tom, you couldn’t deny that neither of you had any idea what was going on between you two. “Well I’ve gotta go. I just wanted to call and talk about that with you. Also, I miss you.” You blurt out the last part. 

“I miss you too Y/N. Thanks for calling, I’ll talk to you later” With that you both say bye and hang up the phone. With your head reeling, you see another text from your friend asking you to explain what was happening. You tell them to meet you for lunch that day and you’ll explain everything. 

    At lunch that day you had to explain why you didn’t tell them about everything when it first happened. Explaining that you didn’t even know what it was yet and that you both wanted to keep it as low-key as possible. “Oh yeah, and you guys flirting almost shamelessly in your professional and serious interview is low-key” is all they say to you. You told them honestly though that at the time it didn’t feel like you were flirting. It just felt like a really good conversation. They just rolled their eyes at you, being able to clearly see what was going to happen. 

    A couple days later you upload your newest video. After checking the stats on the video you find yourself in the comments once again. 

When is Tom gonna be on your channel?!

Do the boyfriend tag with Tom!!!!!

   You notice that almost every comment runs along the same lines. All talking about Tom, asking about you guys, saying how much they ship you. Even though the intention was sweet you grew increasingly frustrated when you realised that no-one was talking about the actual video or what you had to say. As though he could read your mind you see that Tom is calling you. As soon as you pick up the call he’s singing you praises in your ear for your newest video. “That was such a good breakdown Y/N. It honestly made me see the movie in a whole new way”

“Thank you. I’m glad someone noticed” It slips out before you even have time to think.

“Are you ok? That didn’t sound too good”

“Yeah I’m sorry, I’m fine. I just read through all the comments and it seems like all anyone cares about is the fact that they want me to date Tom Holland”

“Yeah but just think about all the people who watched and loved it and just didn’t comment. I promise it’s not all everyone cares about” he says reassuringly.

“You’re probably right. There is a large gap between views and comments” 

“See! Exactly!” A small silence breaks the conversation before Tom perks up. “Guess what” he says through a smirk you can practically hear. 

“I don’t know, what?”

“I’m gonna be back in town next week!” He says excitedly. 

“That’s good to hear. I get to see you again right?” You ask only half joking. The other half was scared to hear him say he wouldn’t be able to see you. 

“I’ve actually got the whole week off, so we’re gonna spend as much time as we can together” he proposes.

“Well I look forward to it” You both say goodnight and hang up. 

    For the past week you’ve been increasingly more nervous to see Tom again. Even though you guys talk constantly, the thought of seeing him in person again had you feeling like the first time you met. While you were on your way to the coffee shop where you were meeting up with Tom, you went over how you wanted to bring up the conversation about what you guys were. You didn’t want to scare him by asking so quickly, but you had to know. You had to figure out if you should confirm or deny the rumours so that people would actually pay attention to your content again instead of your dating life. 

    “Hey gorgeous” You’re greeted by a smiling Thomas who pulls you into a gentle but affectionate hug. Clearly you were both feeling a bit awkward seeing each-other in person for the first time in a while. The first time, you guys had all the momentum of your first meeting, but now things have slowed down a bit between you and you’re trying to find your footing again. Even just 5 minutes into the date though it was like you were never apart. Conversation flowed openly and happily. Tom couldn’t get enough of the way your face scrunched up when you laughed at something he said. You couldn’t get enough of his laugh in general, it was contagious. After a bit, you decide that it’s time to bite the bullet and bring up the elephant in the room, which just so happened to seem like the biggest, scariest elephant in existence. “Can we talk about something?” you finally ask.

“What’s on your mind?” 

“Something that I think is on both of our minds” 

“Y/N, before you go any further, I just want to say that these past few weeks have been amazing. Even though we haven’t been able to spend time the way we’ve wanted, it’s made me realise that even just knowing that I get to talk to you on a daily basis makes me happy” Your heart skips a beat as he pours his out to you. 

“Tom I’ve really enjoyed our time together as well. That’s what makes me curious as to what exactly it means for both of us. Especially in regards to all of the rumours online. I want to know what you want me to say to them. I just want to put it all to rest so that people focus on my content again” you admit without stopping for breath.

“What do you want to say to them?” he asks suspiciously. 

“I mean, I don’t know” You start to feel sheepish. Not wanting to say it out loud in fear of rejection.

“Tell them it’s true” Tom spills out.

“What?” You ask, shooting your eyes up to meet his from the cup of coffee that was up to this point, very interesting. 

“Unless you don’t want it to be true!” Tom tries to backtrack to make you feel comfortable.

“No, I’d like to tell them it’s true. Only if you’re sure though” You say hopefully.

“I am very sure Y/N. I’ve even been thinking that the boyfriend tag sounds like fun” He says with sly smile spreading across his joyful face. 

“I don’t know Tom, I don’t really do those sorts of videos” You respond menacingly.

“Yeah but maybe you can make an exception” He says lowly, leaning in for sweet and tender kiss. In that moment you forget completely about what you were just talking about. It almost worried you how intoxicating his lips were. 

    You guys spend the rest of the week planning and executing the boyfriend tag video. Then all the comments turn from I ship it so hard to THEY’RE SO CUTE TOGETHER and IT’S REAL. And real it was. 

[makoodlesarchive]

in bloom 🌼 || bnharem server collab

hellooo everyone!! this is my piece for the bnharem sfw collab. The theme this time was ‘flowers’! i had the absolute pleasure of writing for my baby kiri! this collab was actually super fun to write for, i had a blast 🌸🌸🌸

please go and check out all of the fantastic works on the masterlist here!

kirishima x reader

word count: 4.9k

｡ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆ ｡ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

Your apartment in Musutafu is small and cramped, with thin walls and very little natural light. The rent is extortionate for what it is, even considering the location in the city centre, and at least once a month there’s a complex wide electrical blackout. You can overlook all of the faults of the apartment though, because it’s in a safe neighbourhood close to a hero agency and, most importantly, it’s got a balcony.

Like the rest of the apartment, the balcony is small, but you’ve got enough room to cram a little outdoor bench into the corner. The rest of the space is filled with planters full of flowers and leafy pants, transforming the cramped little space into your own tiny garden. As the weeks begin to melt into summer, your little garden transforms into a wildy colourful and delightfully fragranced haven for butterflies and honeybees. You love to curl up on your little bench with a book, relishing the warmth of the sun on your face and the musical buzzing of the bees flitting about your Lantana flowers. Your apartment’s location on the ground floor means that you don’t get a whole load of privacy, but it doesn’t stop you from spending as much time as possible on the balcony beneath your hanging ivy planters.

Another bonus to the ground floor balcony is the cute redhead that wanders past every day at 2pm and then again at around 9pm. You’re not entirely sure when exactly you first noticed the man, but since you’ve moved in he’s become a permanent fixture in your daily routine. In the afternoons when you take a break from working from home and sprawl out amongst the leafy greenery of the balcony, you always catch a glimpse of him. You guess he must work in one of the offices nearby, and judging by the hastily buttoned jacket and wrinkled sweatpants he changes before going on his lunch break.

Every day he walks by, and every day you see him craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your balcony. It’s not uncommon for people to stare, considering your balcony is basically a green splash amongst the dull grey drabness of your apartment building, but unlike all the other curious passers-by, whenever this guy makes eye contact with you when you’re sitting out he’ll make sure to grin widely and wave at you. It’s sweet. You know next to nothing about the guy, other than that he always seems to be in a hurry and he has a smile so bright and toothy it could probably be seen from space, but those little interactions always put you in a good mood for hours afterwards.

After countless days of waves and smiles from a distance, you look up one day to find him grinning and waving yet again, but this time with a new addition. In his hand is a little potted cactus, which he holds up in the air so you can see. 

“It’s for my office!” he yells to you. There’s a shrubbery area right outside your balcony that acts as both decoration and security to prevent anyone from just strolling up and hopping over the railing, but the guy is still standing as close as he can get on the sidewalk.

Your grin spreads slowly as you get up off your little bench and lean over the balcony railing to get a closer look at his little potted plant. “It’s cute!” you call back to him.

He beams, impossibly pleased with himself. “It’s not as impressive as yours!” he gestures at the foliage flowing over the railings and the hanging baskets.

“Everyone has to start somewhere!”

He laughs at that, his nose scrunching up just a little, and then waves at you again before setting off down the street. You watch him go until he disappears from sight, then return to your bench to continue reading. You’re so distracted by that whole little episode that it takes a few minutes for you to realise that your book is upside down.

It was such a short exchange, but after nothing but smiles and waves from afar for so long it leaves you a little dazed. You could kick yourself for not asking what his name was, but you just hadn’t had the time. Besides, you had been a little dazzled by his smile.

The man’s name is Kirishima Eijirou. Since the first day he spoke to you, you’ve bumped into him at the local supermarket several times. He’s friendly, sometimes overwhelmingly so, and really kind. He’s the perfect package wrapped up in the body of a professional cage fighter, so it’s probably inevitable that you develop a big fat crush on him. The two of you have only really exchanged basic pleasantries and small talk, but it’s enough to have your pulse skipping everytime he smiles at you.

The local flower shop is beautifully vibrant compared to the gunmetal grey skies outside, and the quiet warmth of the place makes it one of your favourite places to spend your days off. Hanging baskets full of seasonal flowers and trailing ivy are suspended from the ceiling and from high shelves, and leafy green plants create a jungle-like atmosphere within the shop. The effect is delightfully mismatched, with enormous bouquets of flowers brightening up the spaces along the walls. The high shelves and boundless foliage makes the whole place feel like a maze; you could happily lose yourself for hours upon hours within the humid little aisles.

You trace your fingers along the large waxy leaves of a monstera plant, enjoying the smooth texture. A bell tinkles overhead as the door to the shop opens and shuts, momentarily breaking the soothing blanket of quiet. You contemplate the price tag on the monstera plant; you already have one, and if you buy another you’ll be pretty hard pressed to find space for it. It is really cute though, and you’re pretty sure that if you move your ficus a little more into the left corner of your balcony you can make enough space for it.

Your thought process is broken by a noise from the top of the aisle, and you glance up to meet the gaze of a surprised yet familiar man.. “Oh! Kirishima-san.” you say at the same time as he blurts “Hi!”

Before you can say anything else, his face splits into a smile. “Aw man, I can’t believe you’re here! This is perfect!”

You laugh a little nervously. “Huh?”

“I was hoping to get a new plant for my office! Could you help me pick one out?”

“Oh.” you blink, a little overwhelmed by his exuberance and the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, “I don’t work here.”

He laughs like you’ve just told a really funny joke, and moves to meet you in the middle of the aisle. “Yeah, I know. I’m just guessing that you know your stuff about plants -- your balcony is so awesome.”

“Oh.” you say again, straightening a little despite yourself. You feel ridiculously pleased, probably more than such a simple comment warrants. “Thank you. I worked hard on it.”

“It really shows!” he enthuses. “It actually inspired me to spruce up my office a bit, actually!”

“Really?” you ask, leaning back against one of the shelves. A frond-like leaf tickles the back of your neck, but you don’t bother swatting it away. You think that the two of you might be the only two customers in the shop at this time, and your conversation seems so loud in the relative silence. Somewhere near the back an electric fan buzzes, the noise breaking up the monotonous quiet so it doesn’t seem quite so oppressive. 

“Yeah! So, will you give me a hand?” he tilts his head as he asks, and you realise that his shoulders have dropped down, as if he’s trying to make himself appear smaller. “My friend thinks it’s stupid, but I’m determined to have the nicest desk in the whole building!”

You smile despite yourself, his good humour infectious. “Yeah, okay. Are you looking for something in particular?”

Kirishima steps back and regards the surrounding display cases thoughtfully. “Um. Honestly, I don’t know much about plants. I have my little cactus, but it’d be nice to get it a friend, right? I’m happy to go with whatever you think is best!”

You hum, considering your options. If it’s a small office desk he’s hoping to decorate, you suppose a couple of small succulents could do a nice job of adding a bit of life and colour. “I’m sure we can find something.”

“I’ll leave myself in your capable hands, then.” Kirishima says with a grin, inclining his head a little.

You step further into the shop, ducking under a trailing strand of ivy leaves. The dark hardwood floor creaks as you move, with Kirishima following close behind you. When you pause to gaze at a couple of potted plants on one the shelves you keep your gaze cast down, but glance up through your eyelashes to look at Kirishima. You’re surprised to find him already watching you, like he’s drinking in every move you make. The attention is a little overwhelming, but it’s also exciting. His gaze on you is like a physical weight, and you can’t quite help the coy smile that curves over your face. You know you’re not imagining the soft, heated interest behind his eyes; he’s not exactly being subtle.

You duck into a parallel aisle, just fast enough that Kirishima stumbles for half a step at the sudden change in direction. You hum quietly to yourself, and toss a playful smile over your shoulder as he follows behind you. He meets your smile with another grin, bright and handsome. He doesn’t look away from you for a second.

You come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the aisle and turn to face him. The sudden movement takes him by surprise, but he manages to catch himself before he barrels into you. It’s probably not entirely intentional, but he ends up standing so close that you can almost count the delicate little freckles splashed across the bridge of his nose from the summer sun. His head dips down towards you, leaning into your space in a way that is decidedly more than just casually friendly. His lips part, but before he can speak you ask, “What about this one?”

His gaze drops down to the space between you, where you’re holding up a small plant with waxy little leaves. He blinks at it, and then recovers gracefully. “Hey, that one is pretty cute.”

“‘Pretty cute’s not quite good enough, though, is it?” You pretend to ponder, tapping your chin. “If you want the nicest desk in the whole building, you need better than ‘pretty cute’, right?”

If anything, Kirishima’s smile grows even wider. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You up for the challenge of finding me the best plant in the store?” He steps closer as he speaks, until there’s nothing but a scant few inches and the potted plant between you.

You make a show of considering the challenge, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Hold this for me?” you ask suddenly, practically shoving the plant into his hands.

Kirishima takes it, startled, and in the moment of distraction you turn on your heel and dart down the aisle, disappearing down another row of shelves. You’ve barely turned the corner when you hear a deep, rumbling chuckle followed by quick footsteps against the hardwood floor as he follows after you.

It’s like a game. You wind your way through the aisles, skipping over vines and stray pots, and Kirishima tries to catch up. You know this shop like the back of your hand (you’re in here nearly every single weekend), but Kirishima is fast and agile despite his large stature. There are a few close calls, where you just manage to round the corner of a new aisle before Kirishima can reach you, and each one makes your breath catch in your chest when Kirishima’s delighted laughter rings out through the shop.

You can’t help the grin that stretches across your face as you turn into another half-hidden aisle, ducking under a large fan-like leaf that stretched out and drooped low. Only a moment later you hear a soft slap and an “Oof!” as Kirishima presumably runs straight into it, and you laugh quietly to yourself as you slip in between a row of glass display cases.

A clatter and a soft curse sounds from one aisle over, and you guess that Kirishima just accidentally knocked a pot over. You pad softly to the end of the aisle, taking a moment to try and catch your breath and stifle your wild grin. It’s so childish, playing a game of chase in a garden shop with a man you barely know, but you’re having so much fun.

You poke your head cautiously around the edge of one of the display shelves, biting your lip and listening carefully for any sign of Kirishima. The only noise you can hear is the strained mechanical whirring of the fan from somewhere near the back of the shop, so you edge forward. You’ve only managed to take two steps before you feel a presence behind you.

“Gotcha.” Kirishima rumbles, right by your ear.

The noise that’s punched out of your chest is embarrassing, a weird cross between a yelp and a laugh. You whirl on the ball of your feet to face him, only for him to keep stepping closer. You have no choice but to retreat, until you’re backed up into a little alcove between two large glass display cases overflowing with luscious green ferns. Kirishima advances until he’s as close as he can be without actually touching you, and maybe you should feel a little intimidated by this man that’s built like a brick wall of pure muscle but his smile is so delighted and soft that you don’t think you could be afraid of him if you tried.

“You got me.” You agree, a little breathlessly. You don’t know if it’s from the exertion of running through the shop like a child or from the thrill of Kirishima’s closeness to you, but your heart is thrumming like a wild thing in your chest.

From this close, you can see the way Kirishima’s hair is sweat-damp on his brow and curling just slightly; it must be from the humidity inside the shop, because he doesn’t seem even the slightest bit affected by the physical activity of chasing after you. “You’re fast.” he says, his voice quiet as if afraid to break the atmospheric stillness within the shop.

“Yeah?” you mimic his volume subconsciously, “You sure you don’t just like chasing me? I think you could have caught me earlier, if you wanted.”

Kirishima laughs, and the skin around his eyes crinkle up in the most adorable way you’ve ever seen. “Maybe.” he says, and it sounds like a secret. His teeth are white and sharp and his cheeks dimple when he smiles. You’re distracted by the dimples, so when he raises his hand you barely notice until suddenly there’s a flower right under your nose and your eyes nearly cross in your attempt to look at it. 

“It’s pretty.” You say with a smile. It’s a simple white cosmo flower, though Kirishima is beaming as though he’d managed to find a particularly rare gem, and you don’t get a chance to take it from him before he tucks it neatly behind your ear.

“It’s like you.” He says. The words are flirtatious, but he delivers them so earnestly that you don’t quite know how to react.

“How about a potted ivy?” you blurt, at a loss for anything else to say. “It would be easy to take care of, and it looks good.”

Kirishima blinks, but takes the change of subject in stride. “Is that your professional recommendation?”

“Mhmm.” It’s hard to focus when he’s so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across your skin every time he speaks. You’re sure he must be picking up on how flustered he’s making you -- you’re not convinced by the innocent expression on his face. “Maybe a few succulents, too.”

Kirishima nods thoughtfully, consideringly. “Hmmm. That sounds good to me. Will you go out to dinner with me?”

It’s such a non-sequitur that it takes your brain a long moment to register his words. “I- huh?” 

His dimpled smile turns bashful and a little self-conscious. “Ah. Sorry, that might have been a little forward.” He scratches the back of his head, and your gaze is drawn to the way his bicep bulges at the movement. “I was wondering if you’d like to get some dinner with me? I know a place that does some really great burrito bowls.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Kirishima-san?” Your words come out soft and quiet and effortlessly flirtatious -- you hadn’t intended on sounding so seductive, but you can’t help but enjoy the way Kirishima leans in closer to you.

“Yeah. No pressure if you don’t wanna, of course!” He’s quick to reassure you, “It’s totally fine if you’re not interested. I just wanted to let you know that I am very interested.”

As refreshing as his straight-forwardness is, you can’t help but feel surprised. This man is very much out of your league, you’re not blind, and yet he had been the one to approach you, and had indulged in your silly game of chase around the shop, and had playfully cornered you in an alcove and asked you out. You’ve met him enough by now to know he’s kind, friendly, and eager to help with just about anything you ask. Plus, he’s practically built like a Greek god, with a handsome face and the most stacked muscles you’ve ever seen in person.

“I’m interested.” you breathe, heart hammering in your chest. God, you really hoped this wasn’t some kind of elaborate joke. 

Kirishima seems to actually inflate at that, a bright smile blooming across his face as his shoulders straighten. “Really? Great! Awesome! Tonight?”

“Sure.” you agree, returning his smile. Your heart rate still hasn’t returned to normal from your chase around the shop; if anything, it feels like it’s pounding harder than ever. “I’m free tonight.”

“Great!” Kirishima says again. He seems more excited than you would have expected, which is honestly pretty flattering since you’re pretty sure you’re the one that should be feeling the most excited in this situation. “I have to go back to work since I’m technically on my lunch break right now, but I could pick you up at your apartment at around eight tonight?”

“Eight is perfect.” you straighten the flower behind your ear and smile up at him, letting your own excitement shine through on your face.

Kirishima steps back, finally giving you some space. You forcefully resist the urge to follow after him, watching instead as he backs away, still beaming. “Okay. Okay, cool. So, I’ll see you tonight?”

You let him go a few more steps before tilting your head and asking, “So, you changed your mind about the plants?”

He pauses, one foot raised mid-step like a cartoon character. “Plan-?” he starts, before his eyes go comically wide, “Oh! The plants! Right!”

You laugh, finding him stupidly endearing, before stepping out of the little alcove and setting off down one of the aisles to the left. There’s a whole section of the shop dedicated solely to the house plants, and it’s not difficult to find a suitable ivy plant with light green leaves and tumbling vines. Kirishima takes the potted plant when you hand it to him, and trails after you again as you go in search of the succulents. When you’ve found some suitable little plants, you help him carry them up to the counter with the cash register. There’s no one manning the register (and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief at that, because it means that no one saw the two of you running through the shop like idiots), and you ring the little bell to notify the employees that you’re at the counter. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” you say, stepping away from the counter as an employee finally emerges from the back of the shop. “See you tonight?”

Kirishima fumbles with the plants in his hands as he tries to wave. “Tonight! Yeah!”

The bell tinkles as you duck out the shop door, biting your lip to try and stifle your excited grin.

//

You look in the mirror yet again, tugging nervously at your clothes. You look pretty good, you think, but the closer it gets to eight the more nervous you get. You realised too late that you never exchanged phone numbers, and Kirishima doesn’t know which number apartment to buzz from the front door. You focus on staying calm and not overthinking things; it’s just a date, with the most handsome man you’ve ever actually spoken to. No big deal. It’s fine.

You tug on your shirt again, even though it’s sitting pretty much perfectly. You just lean forward to check your teeth when a crash sounds from your balcony. You jerk towards the crash automatically, and race out to open the doors to the balcony. You’re greeted with the sight of Kirishima with one leg over the balcony railing, staring dismally down at the shattered pot that he apparently just knocked over.

“I’m so sorry!” he blurts as soon as he sees you, “It was an accident! I didn’t know your apartment number to buzz the door and so I thought I’d just knock on the door to your balcony but I didn’t see the pot and- wow, you look really good!”

You wave away his frantic apologies with a laugh as you step over the spilled dirt. “Don’t worry about it. You look pretty good, too.” Your eyes drop to where he’s hiding his hands behind his back. “What have you got there?”

Kirishima hikes his other leg over the railing and drops to his feet, before pulling his arms out from behind him and revealing a large bouquet of beautiful white and pink lilies. “I got these for you.” he says, a pink blush dusted over his cheekbones. “I know you, uh, like flowers and plants and things. I don’t know much about them, but I thought they were pretty!”

Your whole face softens, and you reach out to take the bouquet. They are pretty, with delicate pink-streaked white petals and long, dainty stems. Pollen drops from them at every movement, sprinkling into the air in delicate yellow puffs. “They’re beautiful! Thank you.”

When you glance up at him you find that his attention is caught by the side of your head, his own smile softening. “You kept it?”

You touch the cosmo flower still tucked behind your ear, a little embarrassed. It had seemed like a cute idea to keep it and wear it for the date, but now you wonder if it’s a little weird. “Yeah. Like you said, it’s pretty, right?”

“Yeah.” he agrees. His gentle pink blush has intensified into a deep red. “Very pretty.”

You look back down at your lilies, still smiling. You feel so pleased, like all your nerves are being melted away only to be replaced by excited anticipation. “Your office must be really close by if you had the time to grab these before getting here.”

“It’s right around the corner,” he points towards the end of the street, “But, uh. My boss actually let me go early today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I, uh-” His blush, impossibly, seems to intensify further. “I’ve been talking about you for a while, I guess. Telling people about your awesome balcony and stuff, and how nice you are whenever I meet you. I didn’t actually realise how much I mentioned you, but, uh, when I told Fat that I had asked you out, he pretty much told me to get outta there and come straight to get you.” 

You laugh, pleasantly embarrassed yourself. “Wow. That’s… that’s really sweet.” A thought intrudes on the back of your mind, suddenly, and you frown a little. He said his boss's name was Fat? Office around the corner? “Wait. You work at Fat Gum’s Hero Agency?”

“Yep!” He flexes one of his biceps playfully; you’re pretty sure it’s bigger than your head. “I’m a sidekick there! ”

“Wow.” you say, gaze stuck on his muscled arm. “That- well. That explains- I mean, you have a very nice body.” Oh god, you think, cursing yourself. Why had you said that?

Kirishima flushes from the roots of his hair to his chest. You can’t help but grin, his bashfulness impossibly charming. “Oh! Thanks! I work out a lot.” he chuckles, shrugging as if it’s nothing.

You’re still grinning as you look at his rosy face, your eyes dropping to his red-flushed chest. His very red-flushed chest. “Uh.” you glance to his neck, where the skin is an angry crimson colour. “Kirishima-san?”

“Yeah?” The sun is dropping low in the sky, and the golden sunset throws buttery yellow-toned light all over your balcony. It lights up Kirishima’s profile in warm relief, and makes you wonder if you’re maybe imagining the colour you’re seeing.

“Are you okay? You have- I think you have a rash?”

“Huh?” He drops his chin to his sternum, trying to get a look at what you’re seeing. When he tugs his shirt down, it reveals angry red lines streaking down his chest. “Oh. Yikes.”

Your mouth drops open. “That.. looks painful.”

“It’s more itchy, really.” He admits, poking at the patch of ruddy skin. His head snaps up, eyes wide, and he quickly adds, “This doesn’t usually happen! I don’t usually have, uh, whatever this is!”

That definitely isn’t as comforting as he’s clearly hoping it will be. “Um. Kirishima, do you feel weird right now?”

“A little? I think I’m just nervous for our date, though.” He shifts on his feet and reaches up to scratch at his throat. “Just a little itchy. My throat feels a bit weird. I think it’s nerves.”

The angry red rash climbing up his chest and throat suggests that it’s not just nerves. “Does your throat feel… swollen?”

“Kinda?” 

Your gaze drops to the flowers in your arms. The breeze shakes loose another little cloud of pollen from them, which floats into the air in a little puff of yellow dust. “Did this start after you got the flowers?”

“I guess!” Kirishima says, clearly not following.

“Oh.” You stare at each other. Kirishima still hasn’t quite caught on to the logical conclusion of these questions. Now that you’re looking at him closely, you’re pretty sure his face looks a little puffier than usual. “I think you’re having an allergic reaction.”

Kirishima blinks, then looks to the flowers in your arms. His hand scratches idly at the base of his throat, which is now a raw and angry red. “Oh. Oh, I see. Huh.” You might be imagining it, but his voice sounds a little thicker now.

“I think we should go to the hospital.” You set down the lilies on your garden bench and usher him into your apartment. You haven’t had time to tidy up, but you’re past the point of caring about cleanliness. Kirishima doesn’t seem to notice anyway, as his face has fallen.

“What about dinner?” He asks, obviously disappointed, and yep, his voice has definitely gotten thicker. It sounds like his throat is swelling.

You try not to panic. “We can get food after the hospital!”

Kirishima actually has the nerve to pause and think about it. “Are you sure? I don’t feel that bad, and I really want to take you somewhere nice.”

It’s hard not to feel flattered at that. “I really appreciate that, Kirishima. I would feel a lot better if we got you checked out before dinner, though. I think the date would go better if you weren’t on the brink of anaphylactic shock.”

Kirishima concedes at that, and lets you call a taxi. As you stand on the sidewalk waiting for the taxi to arrive, he sighs and tilts his head. “This is embarrassing. I can’t believe I finally ask you out only for it to be ruined by some stupid flowers.”

“Hey,” you bump him with your hip, but it’s like hip-checking a boulder. You wince and rub at your hip bone as you say, “The flowers were beautiful, and a really lovely thought. Plus, I’ve kind of had a crush on you for a while now. One little bump in the road isn’t gonna chase me away, okay?”

“Really?”

You tug him over so you can press a chaste, tentative kiss to his cheek. “Really.”

“I’m gonna make sure when this is over that I bring you on the most unforgettable date ever!” In the light of the setting sun, Kirishima is lit up golden. He grins, gilded and bright, and even with his puffy face and swollen throat, you think he might just be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

“I think that you’ve already accomplished that.” you say delicately as you spot your taxi rounding the corner of the street, “Maybe our next date should be a little more uneventful.”

“Yeah,” Kirishima laughs, sounding like his throat is full of cotton balls, “Maybe uneventful is best. But you basically just agreed to go on another date with me, right?”

You suppose you have to be impressed by his determination, if nothing else. You’re not used to being the focus of someone’s attention like this, especially not someone on the brink of a medical emergency. It’s… flattering. “Yeah, I guess I did. Maybe next time we should leave the flowers, though.”

“No flowers.” Kirishima agrees, then chuckles. 

You think his swollen, puffy smile might just be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

A Long Way From The Playground | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by @faithie-brock-gillespie01​: Can you make one where me and Charlie go out to hang out around the town and I get pinned to the wall by man who hasn’t left me alone all day (like he attacks me when Charlie just goes to the bathroom or something) and then all of a sudden Charlie comes back and saves me by pulling the guy off. They get into a small fight and he ends up growling “mine” and pointing at the guy as I pull him back and out of the place. After I pull him out and get him home. When home I patch him up (because he has a few cuts on his face) and he ends up confessing (after I ask why he did it) that he hates to see me get hurt so he saved me. We end up confessing to loving one another.*My name: y/nMy nicknames: sweetheart, sweetie, love, Princess, queen, angel, nugget (Or whatever you can think of. )*charlies nicknames: Char, King, Baby Boy, My Prince, My Prince Charming, My Love, Babe, Sweetheart, baby, love bug, sweetie, sweetheart,  my prince, baby, baby boy, sweet cakes, babe, sweetie, or even Troy (like I use it as a funny thing to mess with him, because he’s kinda like my Troy), real life Luke (because it’s again a funny thing in the relationship or like because he acts like a real life one hence the real life part), (Or whatever you can think of. )

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Warnings: angst, sexual harassment, fight,

Words: 3,426

You’ve been friends with Charlie for ages. The first day at Kindergarten, a mean girl had pushed you off the swing during recess, and when Charlie saw this, he came up to help you. He pushed the girl off the swing she stole from you and then rushed to your side to help you up. He accompanied you to the school nurse and even stayed after the wound on your knee had been taken care of. The nurse had given both of you a lollipop and allowed you to wait in her office until recess was over. Ever since that day, you and Charlie had been inseparable. You went through life together, supporting each other’s decisions and helping out whenever the other was in trouble.  It was really hard on you when Charlie went to LA to pursue his acting career, but you supported him nonetheless. This was his dream, and as a best friend, it was your duty to let him go and pursue that dream, even if that meant leaving you in Dieppe all by yourself. Your relationship never really suffered from the distance between the two of you. There were consistent FaceTime calls and constant texts, it’s almost as though he’s not even gone. The only thing that might cause disturbance is your feelings for him. You were eighteen when you first realized that you’d much rather kiss Charlie than hug him, when his otherwise platonic touches were felt everywhere. Everywhere. But, of course, you decided not to say anything because it might just ruin what you have, and what you have is really special. In 2019, Charlie asks you to come along with him to Vancouver where he’s going to be shooting Julie and The Phantoms, a Kenny Ortega project. You, being a big fan of the director and Charlie, decide to come along. You deserve a little break, and you’ve missed Charlie too much to pass up this opportunity. “Bubbaaaaa!” you shriek as you run up to him in the grand hallway of Vancouver International Airport, leaving your luggage somewhere along the way. He’s holding out his arms, ready to catch you as you jump up and into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, clutching onto him like a koala bear. Passengers leaving or arriving give you weird looks, annoyed at the disturbance in their day, but you don’t care. It’s been months since you’d last seen this man, and you’re way too excited to  be in his arms again. “Hey Nugget,” he mumbles in your hair, inhaling the fresh scent of  peonies, his most favorite. “Gosh, I missed ya.” He loosens his arms a little to put you back on your feet, but you don’t want to let go yet. A chuckle vibrates through his chest and travels all the way through yours. “I missed you too, Bubba,” you say back and then let go of him. You just needed a few more seconds in his arms. After grabbing your luggage where you left it, he takes you to the apartment he’s sharing with one of his cast mates, Owen, who’s sitting on the sofa as you arrive. The tall blonde man gets up and makes his way over to you with a wide smile on his face. “Hi!” he greets, opening his arms to give you a welcome hug. “I’m Owen.” “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you say back when the two of you pull away. “I’m gonna show Y/N to their room and then we can maybe get some lunch together?” Charlie suggests to the both of you. After exchanging a glance, you and Owen nod agreeingly. Charlie then excitedly grabs your hand and leads you towards one of the rooms. “This is my room, but you can sleep here and I’ll sleep on the couch,” he explains softly. Your head snaps up at this, wondering if he’s serious about his suggestion of sleeping on the couch. He’s looking at you expectantly. He is serious about sleeping on the couch. “Dude… We used to sleep in the same bed during our sleepovers in Dieppe all the time. Just sleep in this bed with me, alright?” You almost sound angry at the audacity of him suggesting doing otherwise.  “Right, yeah! Of course,” he utters, his eyes lighting up, “I just-- didn’t want to force you to sleep in the same bed in case things… changed…” You let out an airy laugh, shaking your head in disbelief whilst throwing your luggage onto the bed with a dull thud. “Nothing could ever change things between us, Char,” you mutter, but in your mind know at least one reason that could change between you. You hear him chuckle as you grab an entirely new outfit from your suitcase, wanting to change out of your disgusting airplane clothes. “Can I take a quick shower before we go to lunch?” you ask, and he simply nods his head and guides you out of the bedroom and to the shared bathroom. While you shower, you think of all the possible ways this week could go. You want to tell Charlie how you truly feel. You can’t just be friends with him anymore. It’s been three years since you figured it out. You’ve spent three years trying not to scream whenever his fingers left a burning trail on your skin or when his glances made you tingle everywhere. But now you’re done trying to pretend nothing’s going on. You’re done pretending not kissing him isn’t killing you. Though the multiple possible scenarios make for a bad movie, you’re willing to at least try and see what he’s going to say or do. This could go either way. Little do you know Charlie’s having the exact same thoughts, only he’s saying them out loud to Owen, one room over. “You gotta tell them, man. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to hold out much longer,” says Owen to his distressed friend, “This is making you crazy.” Charlie doesn’t disagree. It is making him crazy. Maybe this week might give him some clarity as to what to do about this entire situation. Once you’re ready, the three of you head out into Vancouver to grab some lunch. While Charlie and Owen bicker about which restaurant would be best to take you to, you give yourself the opportunity to look around, rewarding your eyes with the beauty that is West End Vancouver. The difference between Dieppe and Vancouver is fascinating, to say the least. It’s funny to you because wherever you go or turn in Dieppe, there’s a natural flair to the streets, while everything in Vancouver is made of brick. Or at least this street is. “What about sushi, Y/N?” Owen asks you, making you snap out of your thoughts. “Ooh! I love me some sushi!” you reply, your mouth already salivating at the thought alone. “Told ya, Char,” he says to Charlie, “Who’s really their best friend, huh?” Charlie playfully punches the blondie in the shoulder, inducing a laugh from him. “All right, kids, where’s this sushi place? I am hella hungry!” you exclaim, interrupting their banter. They both point to a building on your right. You’re now looking at a townhouse, all brown bricks and teal framework around the windows and balconies at the top, whilst the ground floor has a black finish and black canopy with the sushi bar’s logo on it in big, white lettering. Before you can say anything else, the two have pulled you inside already, finding a spot near the back. Charlie slides into the booth next to you while Owen takes the opposite side. The waiter’s quick on his feet and brings you a menu and asks what you want to drink straight away. All three of you order some sodas, and then the waiter leaves you to choose. While you’re scanning the menu for something you like, you can feel a pair of eyes burning your skin. You look up for a moment, locking eyes with a guy that doesn’t look that much older than you. Awkwardly, you shoot him a smile before turning back to the menu. You look up again every now and then because you want to check if he’s still looking, and every time, he is. By the third time, he shoots you this disgusting smirk that sends physical shivers down your spine, shaking your entire body from head to toe. “You okay?” Charlie asks, feeling you shiver. “Yeah, just got the chills,” you reply, not wanting to make this a dramatic thing. It’s just a man staring at you creepily. Nothing you haven’t experienced yet. That’s what you get for wearing such extravagant clothes. “I’m ready to order, what about you guys?” you change the subject quickly, more for yourself than anyone else. You need to focus on other things so as to not feel too uncomfortable.  The three of you order your food, and you start to ask the boys some questions about their new project together, and you even ask Owen about his show Knight Squad. You did watch that with your younger siblings when it ran on Nickelodeon. All of it helps keep you occupied and not at all thinking about the creepy man that’s still there. “I gotta go in for a fitting, but I’ll see you guys at the apartment later, okay?” Owen says after lunch, scooting out of the booth. “Can you cover my part of the bill, Char? I’ll pay you back later.” The boy next to you simply nods his head. “Kay, thanks. See you later, Y/N,” he offers you a wave before leaving the joint and leaving you and Charlie by yourself. “Can we go?” you ask when you notice Creepy Guy again. “Yeah, sure,” Charlie replies and scoots out of the booth. “Are you okay? You’ve been fidgety ever since we got here…” Of course he’d notice your change of demeanor. The Creepy Guy’s eyes on you at all times has made you quite nervous. “Oh, no, yeah… I’m fine,” you try to smile as convincingly as possible. “I gotta go to the toilet real quick, I’ll be right back, okay?” You slowly nod your head, unsure if it’s such a good plan to leave you by yourself with Creepy Guy just a few feet away.  At first, you can keep your nerves at bay by pulling your jacket on and tugging at your shirt to make sure nothing’s on show. Then, you decide to take your phone out and aimlessly scroll through social media. It’s not like you’re actually picking things up from the things people posted since you’re trying to listen if there are any feet approaching. Your ears betray you today as there’s a tap on your shoulder. Hoping and praying it’s Charlie, you slowly turn around, only to find Creepy Guy in front of you with that disturbing smirk on his face. Chills run down your spine again as your thumb blindly finds its way to your contacts in your phone. You know Charlie’s name is at the very top of your recent calls, ready to be pressed in case of emergencies. “Hello, Gorgeous,” Creepy Guy says, “Noticed your two boy toys left you all by yourself, thought you could use some company.” He’s shuffling closer and closer, his breath hot and foul on your lips as you’re backing  away until you feel the wall behind you. You’re frantically looking around for someone to notice and help you. A waitress behind the counter has a phone pressed to her ear, and you’re praying she’s calling the police.  “What’s wrong, Angel Face? Are you n--” he’s cut off and pulled away from you all of a sudden. You have to blink your eyes a couple of times before you could properly see again. The whole situation made you black out for a couple of seconds. But now, your eyes land on Charlie, punching Creepy Guy in the face and getting hit a few times in return. For a moment, you’re frozen to the floor. Firstly because seeing Charlie fuming and punching a guy is kind of hot, and secondly because you’ve got no clue what to do. “Charlie,” you finally manage to bring out and place a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head at you, dark and angry eyes softening at the sight of your scared expression. “Let’s go,” you whisper, and grab his hand. “Hey, are you okay?” the waitress asks when you pass her, “I just called the cops, they’re gonna be here soon.” You glance at Charlie, his face all beaten up and bloody from the impact of Creepy Guy’s fist. “They’re gonna want you to make a statement.” “Fine,” you sigh. You wished you could forget about this whole thing quickly, but the girl just wants to help. “Could I get your first aid kit to take care of him first though?” You point at your best friend’s face, and the girl nods her head. “You can do it in here,” she says, beckoning you to follow. She hands you the small box and then leaves the two of you alone as though she knows you need some privacy. You sit Charlie down on the chair and perch yourself on the table next to it whilst going through the first aid kit. It’s silent for a while as you’re cleaning up the cuts on his forehead and cheeks. “Why’d you do that, Charlie?” you mutter, frustrated that his hot-headedness got him into this mess. He hisses as the disinfecting product you’re dabbing on his wounds starts stinging. “I hate seeing you get hurt, Nugget. Seeing that man practically groping you sickened me to my stomach. It hurt me as much as it hurt you, Y/N,” he exhales sharply and grabs your wrist to stop you from undeliberately hurting him some more. “Babe, I need to clean out these wounds,” you grumble, trying to wriggle your hand loose. “I’m fine, Y/N. They’ll heal,” he tells you, though you know those wounds are hurting. “No, Char. They’ll infect if I don’t clean them out properly,” you cup his face on one side, softly rubbing your thumb against his cheek. “You’re gonna have to grin and bear it, baby. Let me take care of you, okay?” His eyes soften as does the grip on your wrist. You continue cleaning up the wounds in silence, only Charlie’s soft hissing filling up your ears. “There you go,” you whisper when you’re finally done, “You’re as good as new.” Charlie offers you a thankful smile, which you return quickly before getting off the table to throw the used gauze into the bin in the corner of the room. When you turn around to return to the table, Charlie’s right behind you, making you jump out of your skin as you didn’t expect him to be this close. “Jeez, Bubba, I didn’t hear you sneak up,” you say in a hushed voice while clutching your heart. He’s staring down at you, his twinkling eyes flicking from yours to your lips and back. “What?” you ask softly. Your brain is going a mile a minute and your heart is pounding out of your chest. Besides hugging him, it’s been a while since you’ve been this close to him. You’d almost forgotten what that did to you. “I just--” he visibly swallows a lump, and then a smile plays at his lips, “Remember that first day we met? When Jade pushed you off that swing?” Though you’re confused as to why he’d bring that up, you can’t help but smile. “I still have a scar on my knee from that fall,” you reply, remembering the day clearly. “I thought you were super sweet to stand up for me. I even found it a little funny when you pushed Jade off the swing in return.” A chuckle escapes from him. “Yeah, Miss Edwards didn’t find it quite as funny,” Charlie adds. “But I knew from that day on that you were gonna be special to me, Y/N. Gossipping at the nurse’s office about who we liked and didn’t like, our mutual love for coca cola lollipops and The Rugrats.... I just knew I never wanted to be friends with anyone else in my life.” Your lips turn up into a tender smile at his sweet words. “But things have changed, haven’t they?” Your smile disappears at this. Where is this going?  “I’ve been trying to find the right words to say this, but I could never come up with anything that could even come close to how I’m feeling…” he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of help. “Charlie… What are you getting at?” you ask, the fear taking over your voice with a quiver. “I might totally ruin our friendship with this, but I have to tell you because it’s driving me crazy…” Your eyebrows furrow, worry growing within you. “Charlie, stop babbling and just tell me what you wanna say! This is kinda nerve-wracking!” you raise your voice a little as a nervous chuckle breaks up the words ever so slightly. “Y/N,” he scoffs, “I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen, and no, I didn’t get that from a One Direction song, though I’m pretty sure that one would’ve been accurate to sing to you right now. So, I’m just gonna quote that…” Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession. The thing you’ve been so afraid of for years is something that’s been bothering him too. At the exact same time. “Long before we both thought the same thing,” he continues, still in his normal speaking voice until the musician in him comes up. “To be loved or to be in love. And all I can do is say that these arms are made for holding you, oh. I wanna love like you made me feel… When we were eighteen…” He stops singing and looks at you for any sign of reciprocation. You’re frozen to the floor in absolute shock. This is what you’ve been dreaming about for so long and now that it’s finally here, you’re not even saying anything. “Y/N? I-- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve just kept these feelings to myself. I totally ruined everything now, didn’t I? I--let’s just forget about this whole thing, yeah? Just wake up tomorrow as if nothing ever happened. It’s okay, I--” You finally spring into action. But instead of saying anything, you simply grab him by his shirt and pull him into you, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He’s startled at first, but quickly melts into your lips and lets his hands find their way to your face. “I’ve been waiting for three years, scared you didn’t feel the same…” you whisper as you pull back, finally having found the words. “We’re both so stupid, Bubba.” He chuckles softly before kissing you again. “We literally could’ve been doing this for three whole years!” you exclaim, shaking your head in disbelief. “Yes, Princess, I know. Now, shut up and kiss me, we’ve got three years of this to catch up on.” A smile tugs at your lips as he removes the remaining space between your lips again. You’re a little too caught up into the kiss, you don’t even notice the knock on the door. “Guys, the--” you break apart, wide eyes staring at the door where the waitress stands with a sheepish smile. “Sorry… The cops are here,” she throws her thumb backwards. “Ugh, right…” you groan, but Charlie takes your hand and leads you out into the sushi bar again. During your statement, he stays with you at all times, holding your hand and watching you closely with a sad smile on his face. He hates the fact you have to go through all of that again as if you didn’t go through enough already. “That’s all we need from you, miss Y/L/N,” the officer says after a while. “You’ll hear from us soon. You can go home now. As for you, mister Gillespie, I’d do something about that anger of yours.” Charlie curtly nods his head before taking you out of the restaurant. The two of you head back home, and once there, you immediately head into the bedroom. There’s a lot of catching up to do from those three lost years. Your friendship has come a long way from the playground.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​ @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @lolychu​ @perfectlywrongformend3s​ @luckylouiebug​ @camiladelrio98​ @myfriendscallmebeans​ @kcd15​

[dinosaurtsukki]

❀ nostalgia | “i haven’t seen you since the day we...broke up” feat. kuroo tetsurou

⇢ day 3 of angstcember

⇢ synopsis: airports aren’t really a place where people linger around but you find yourself unable to leave quite yet and face a new chapter in your life. even more so when you run into kuroo, your ex-boyfriend, whose flight has been delayed

⇢ a/n: this is probably my fave so far because i love flashbacks and nostalgia-themed fics. also partially inspired by this movie i watched about two strangers who got stuck in an airport and grew closer. hope you guys like this!

⇢ pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

⇢ word count: 2.6k words

ANGSTCEMBER MASTERLIST (feat. haikyuu!! and bungou stray dogs)

━━━━━━━━✿ ━━━━━━━━

kuroo tetsurou wasn’t a fan of being stuck in airports. actually, he wasn’t a fan of being stuck anywhere and having to be idly wait for something. kenma liked to say that it was karma because he kept using that ‘we are the blood that keeps the ball in motion blah blah’ back in high school. he kind of wish he could be like his best friend who was content with waiting for long stretches of time as long as he had his phone or game console.

kuroo sighed as he sat down in the waiting area, pulling his suitcase next to his feet. he already had his lunch and walked around the airport twice, browsing the shops selling overpriced local goods and a few amenities like massage chairs and spas. kuroo pulled out his phone to scroll through social media for a bit only to get bored of that too and glance at his watch repeatedly. there were eight more hours left until his flight. kuroo wished he didn’t have to travel to whole other country for the first time one his own.

little did he know, he was about to get company soon.

...

your flight had arrived at the airport early, way too early for your liking. after piling your luggage on one of the carts in the airport, you idled at the baggage reclaiming area, unable to walk to where departures was. ‘what are you so afraid of? you’ve been waiting to come home for so long,’ you scolded yourself.

a few minutes into your waiting time, you received a call from your mother asking about your flight. you bit your thumbnail anxiously as you talked to her and you don’t know what came over you, but you ended up saying: “sorry, my flight hasn’t left yet.” 

“it’s delayed?” 

“yeah, sorry. i probably won’t be at the airport until night there.” 

“alright. maybe you can find something to do. give us a call when you’re at the airport already.” 

“sure, mom. goodbye,” you said before hanging up. now, with some fresh time to kill, you pushed your luggage around the airport. it had been years since you were last in japan. in fact, this was the very airport you left for the US from. while walking around, you tried to remember if the same shops and stalls were still there. ‘nothing much has changed,’ you thought with a smile, wheeling your luggage cart into what appeared to be a waiting area that had a television and some armchairs. 

you were making your way to one of the chairs when you realized that there was something strangely familiar about the man sitting in that area. he was wearing a gray, business suit and sitting on the chair with a foot propped up on his knee. what struck you most was his hair, black and sticking out it in different directions, when you realized who it belonged to.

“kuroo... tetsurou?” you said aloud. and, at the sound of your voice, he turned to see you.

...

“y/n?”

kuroo couldn’t believe his eyes. here you were, in the airport of all places, with an expression on your face that matched his. you had changed quite a bit since he last saw you but, your eyes, your lips, your face, kuroo couldn’t possibly forget any of those. 

“it’s really you,” he chuckled, standing up and going over to you. 

“yeah, likewise,” you smiled, eyeing him up and down. you’ve never seen kuroo in a business suit and quite frankly, he looked really good. 

“i haven’t seen you since the day we... broke up,” kuroo said, eyes softening as he remembered the painful memory.

“that’s because i hopped onto a plane the day after,” you shrugged a shoulder. 

“ah, right.”

“well, how have you been?” you asked, to ease the awkwardness. “never thought i’d see you in a suit.”

“right? it was weird at first but now it feels like a second skin,” kuroo chuckled. “i work for the japan volleyball association.” 

“no kidding? that’s amazing!” you grinned. “i always knew you couldn’t get away from volleyball.”

“i may not be in a team but it still is fun. and how about you? you’re the one who moved all the way to new york!” kuroo asked.

“well, it wasn’t easy,” you shook your head. “it’s a pretty long story actually.”

unlike kuroo, you were more familiar with airports and traveling from country to country. you didn’t mind lingering in airports, in fact, you enjoyed them quite a bit. you found out that airports were quite similar to each other, no matter what country they were in. furthermore, time always seemed to vary among different people who were either rushing to their next flight or waiting to get to their next destination, wherever it was. 

it felt like some strange form of fate that you would meet kuroo, of all people, in the airport, of all places.

“funny thing is, my flight has been delayed,” kuroo chuckled. “so, i have eight hours to kill.”

“is that so?” you cocked your head and smiled, “i happen to have time to kill too.”

...

“a little bit to the left.” 

“y/n, you just told me to move to the right.” 

“but you moved too much to the right!” you pouted, putting your hands on your hips. kuroo was helpless to that pout so he moved half an inch to the right. you grinned, and crouched down to peer through your video camera.

“alright, perfect! now, just say your lines.” 

as tired as kuroo was, he’d do anything for you and that meant being cast in more than a few of your short films. particularly now that you were trying to put together a portfolio to attend film school abroad. 

“everything alright?” kuroo asked, creeping into your room with a mug of your favorite tea. your hair was a mess and the sweatshirt you were wearing -- kuroo’s sweatshirt -- looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. 

“have i told you how much i hate editing?” you murmured, eyes still focused on the screen.

“once or twice,” kuroo placed the mug on your desk and ran a hand through your hair. you sighed at the touch, leaning back against the chair. 

“i just wish it would magically become like what’s in my head, you know?” you sighed. 

“well, maybe whoever’s looking through your portfolio will just be impressed by my amazing acting,” kuroo joked.

“you’re acting is just alright!” you laughed, looking up and pulling kuroo closer to press his forehead against yours. “i really hope i get in.”

“you’ll do amazing, love,” kuroo murmured, pressing kisses on your forehead. “i just know it.

...

“so, that’s how i ended up with the job!” you exclaimed. you and kuroo had migrated from the waiting area to a small cafe that served really good coffee and cakes.

“amazing! who would have thought a lot more emailing was going to do the trick?” kuroo clapped his hands.

“well, you were the one who taught me how to be persistent in the first place,” you smiled at him before sipping your tea. blackberry tea, still evidently your favorite. kuroo smiled wistfully as he remembered the mugs of tea he’d make and bring to your room whenever he knew you were stressed. he even kept a metal can of blackberry tea in his apartment and when you left, he didn’t know what to do with it. in fact, kuroo had stashed it in the very back of the kitchen cabinet because seeing it reminded him too much of you.

“i’m glad that still stuck with you,” kuroo smiled up at you. 

“how about you? you didn’t completely forget about me, did you?” you joked.

“you? never.” 

you bit your lip at the soft way kuroo said that. of course, kuroo wasn’t the type who easily forgot people. despite how good he was at provoking and annoying people, you knew kuroo was just one of the kindest, most loyal people you would ever meet. 

“in fact,” kuroo leaned back in his chair. “i still do my laundry the way you taught me how.” 

“really? with putting your socks in a laundry net so it wouldn’t get lost?” you laughed. kuroo, raised his pant leg, showing off his socks.

“i’ve had these since university days,” he boasted.

“oh, i think i remember those even!” you played along. kuroo laughed, the sound bringing you back to so many nights spent watching movies and eating cereal at three in the morning. after the break-up, remembering all of those only made you want to burst into tears so you spent a long time trying to bury them in your memory. but after a while, when you thrusted yourself into your new life in a different country pursuing your dreams, thinking back to the good times with kuroo didn’t hurt so much. it was bittersweet, actually.

...

“but... i thought--” 

“i know, kuroo, i know,” you sighed, blinking hard and looking up at the ceiling. this was a conversation you’ve been wanting to avoid for weeks. after receiving your application letter and the celebration, you were hit with the realization that maybe your relationship with kuroo couldn’t continue. and what’s more, kuroo kept on talking about how you guys were going to work with the long-distance. you had to break it to him.

“just think about it, okay?” you pleaded. “i’m going to be gone for a long time. even when i do have breaks in between semesters, i’ll probably have to work jobs in between to help pay for living expenses. if we did do the long-distance thing, we wouldn’t even have the time or effort to put into our relationship anymore.”

“i’m willing to!” kuroo exclaimed, his eyes wide and desperate. “i don’t mind waiting for weeks in between calls. i don’t mind that i won’t see you in person for years. i’m willing to work with this because i know you’ll be out there chasing after your dream!”

“kuroo...” you choked back a sob. how could you think of breaking up with him after hearing all that? you were never going to find another man like him. 

but, you wanted other things too.

“i’m sorry, kuroo,” you shook your head. “but, i don’t think i’d be willing to continue with that.”

“y/n, you promised,” kuroo said softly. “you said--” 

“kuroo, it’s easy to promise things when you don’t how it will all turn out in the end.” 

“so that’s it then?” his voice turned cold. 

“we can still be friends--”

“i don’t think so,” kuroo cut you off. “you probably wouldn’t want to put effort in that either.” 

...

“so, are we... going to talk about it?”

“i think the day was pretty much heading to that,” you admitted. after spending a good part of the day talking and walking around the airport, you and kuroo were leaning against a railing, looking down below at the people hurrying to buy their tickets or meeting their loved ones. in a way, you and kuroo felt distant; alienated from the rushing crowd

“i... what i did and said was completely unfair,” kuroo apologized. “at that time, i was upset because all i was thinking about was what i wanted and when that didn’t align with yours, i just told myself that you were the selfish one. and, for that, i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright,” you smiled, looking at the genuine expression on kuroo’s face. 

“i really convinced myself that we were going to last but i guess i was being naive about it,” he chuckled.

“you’re not the only one. i also thought that too for a time but,” you shrugged and looked down at the sea of people below. “life happens.” 

“life happens.” 

“hey, isn’t it almost your flight already?” you asked, looking up at kuroo who checked his watch again. 

“yeah, half an hour actually,” kuroo said regretfully. “what about yours?”

“i... don’t have one,” you finally confessed. “i got off my flight earlier today and i was supposed to be picked up but, i kind of chickened out with leaving the airport and then i ran into you.”

“how come? are you running away from something?” kuroo asked, leaning against the railing next to you.

“well, more like avoiding something. when i step out of this airport, i’ll be heading into a completely new chapter of my life,” you said, staring into the distance before turning to glance at kuroo. then, you held out your hand to him.

kuroo finally noticed what had been pretty much in front of him all along: the ring on your finger. ‘oh,’ he realized, being unable to tear his gaze away from it. 

“i... didn’t notice.”

“i kind of didn’t want you to,” you admitted, taking your hand back. “i feel like you wouldn’t have hung out with me for this long if you knew. so, i guess we’re even when it comes to being selfish.”

“i would have been taken aback a bit,” kuroo agreed. “but, i don’t think i’d really miss out on an opportunity to talk to you.”

“really? i’m glad,” you said earnestly, feeling your chest swell again. “in all honesty, i don’t think i’d feel this okay right now if i hadn’t run into you.”

“likewise. i’m glad to see you again, y/n,” kuroo said, glancing one last time at the ring on your finger. “so, who’s the lucky guy?” he grinned.

“i met him at work,” you felt yourself flush. “it’s funny, actually. we didn’t get along at all at first but, one thing led to another and we ended up together. he’s really sweet, a bit of a nerd to be honest, and,” you shrugged, “he makes me feel loved.” you paused and reached over to squeeze kuroo’s hand.

“if i hadn’t met you, i wouldn’t have known that i deserved to be loved this much.” 

...

your fiancee texted you a few minutes later and kuroo absolutely insisted, despite your protests, to walk you to the exit. there was a strange feeling in his chest, a feeling of tightness that was slowly dissipating, and kuroo could only chalk that up to the revelation that you were engaged.

once again, he had hoped that day that meeting you here at the airport was some kind of special, destined event that was hopefully going to reignite what was lost in the past. in the end, it was a special, destined event, just not the kind kuroo had hoped for.

it hurt, almost as much as your break-up, but kuroo knew he would be able to manage it.

“well, this is me,” you smiled, turning back to him. “it was so good to see you, kuroo. really.” 

“you too,” he nodded, pausing awkwardly, before deciding to spread his arms as an invitation for you to hug him. you laughed and leaned forward, allowing yourself to be engulfed by his arms. for a minute, you remembered standing in the middle of his apartment, wearing kuroo’s sweatshirt again. 

“i’m happy for you, y/n. i truly am,” kuroo whispered.

“me too,” you leaned back. “we got everything we wanted.” just, not each other, kuroo added as an afterthought.

“take care!” you waved, pushing your luggage cart to where your fiancee was parked. kuroo watched from a distance as your fiancee stepped out of his car and greeted you with a hug and a kiss, before helping place your luggage in the trunk. for a moment, kuroo had a vision of him being the one greeting you at the airport, saying something like ‘welcome home, y/n,’ but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

this encounter with you in the airport had already become a part of his past.

kuroo picked up his luggage again, dragging it behind him as he walked back into the airport. it was late and he still had a flight to catch. 

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