#i will find other things to enjoy and be happy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

love-quinn · 2 days ago

Text

— THREAD OF GOLD

summary — a thread of moments that defined your relationship with mike.

warnings — uh i don’t think there are? me not caring about the irl timeline of events and making up my own shit cause i can. also i switch between past and present tense like nobody's business so we're all gonna pretend we don't notice that.

pairing — mike faist x fem!famous! reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 7.8k + social media posts

note — hi sorry i’ve been MIA i’ve been working on this for 5ever truly it came to me one day and i couldn’t write anything else. this isn’t edited because it’s nearly 8k and i’m not about that life.

important note that i tried to make it so yn’s skin tone changed in at least some of the pictures to make it more inclusive but pinterest fought me SO hard i spent maybe four hours just finding images. this is NOT meant to be a depiction of what yn looks like, just a general vibe of the images used in the thread <33

ONE. july 2017

California doesn’t have seasons the same way your hometown did. California has two seasons: wet and dry. You grew up in the suburbs of New York, in Westchester county, about an hour north of Manhattan. You went to the city a few times growing up, but you spent almost all of your upbringing on a quiet street with a cul-de-sac and a park a street away.

You’d lived in California for a while, you were based there for most of the year, but you’d still say you lived in New York. You were lucky enough to be at a break between projects where you got to spend more than a few weeks at a time at your New York apartment.

You’d been back maybe two weeks and knowing that you didn’t have to go back to the west coast for at least six months felt like a major weight off your chest. Finally retreating back to your cocoon, the air around you still felt thick, but this one felt more like a wall keeping things out rather than one keeping you in.

So, naturally, the first thing you did with your newfound seclusion was to venture outside with a man you’d been trying to go out with for a few months now.

You and Mike had known each other for a little over half a year now. You’d met at a new year’s party hosted by a mutual friend of a mutual friend and you had known immediately that he was someone that you wanted to know desperately. You’d been elated that he seemed to reciprocate. Unfortunately, with your work schedules, this was the first time since January that you’d had enough time in the same state.

He was unlike anyone that you had ever met, and now that you were in the same place, you were revelling in his presence. He’d taken you to a park near his apartment, he’d let you hold his hand on the subway and you were pretty sure that he was going to kiss you later.

It had been a while since you’d been outside - like, properly outside, and Mike was enjoying how happy you seemed to be. While you’d been trying to organise yourselves, Mike had spent hours on the phone with you, trying to avoid sounding so disgustingly happy that he scared you off. This may have been your first real date, but Mike already knew that you were it for him.

You were chattering about a story from your childhood, and he was really trying to listen to you, but he was focused more on the way the golden hour was hitting your face, and the way you would subconsciously squeeze his hand when you made yourself laugh.

“Yeah, since then my mom makes sure that she puts the cat treats away whenever he comes over,” you giggled. Mike let the sound fill him from the inside. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by you dropping his hand. “I’ve needed this,” you let your head fall back to bask in the dying sunlight. “Air that I’m not sharing with Buzzfeed HQ, grass that is made in real dirt.”

“I see,” Mike nodded seriously. “You’re not even here for me, you were just waiting for a guy to take you to see some trees.”

You reach back and grip his hand, eyes sparkling directly into his. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, “for knowing your place.”

He laughed and let you drop your hand again, watching fondly as you speed off in front of him, stopping maybe fifteen feet in front of him. “Will you come with me to the emergency room when I fall out of the tree I’m about to climb.”

Mike was sure you could see exactly how much he wanted to kiss you from the look on his face. He laughed, nodding. “That’s actually the next stop I had planned anyway.”

TWO. october 2017

You couldn’t remember dolling yourself up for a date in so long, but it was clearly paying off the way that Mike hadn’t let you out of arm’s reach the entire cab ride. You hand two hands on his arm and he’d been talking in your ear the whole ride.

You were taking him to lunch at one of your favourite places in the city, quiet, not visible from the street, with a wonderful goat cheese salad. He’d been ecstatic that you were clearly showing him parts of your life that you kept close to your chest.

The two of you had only been together properly for about three months now, but you’d known each other for nearly a year. Mike hadn’t really dated anyone in the industry before, definitely not publicly.

You’d mentioned to him a few of your past dating experiences before, and you had been steadfast on the fact that if you were going to have a relationship that it would be as completely private as possible.

Mike didn’t think he’d ever hesitated less to reply - he was all in, same page. It felt simultaneously too fast and too slow. You’d been dating for three months, sure, but he’d known you since January, and it had felt like that first seven months had been confirmation that he liked you again and again and again.

Mike had been calling you his girlfriend to everyone, his friends, his family, some of his closer co-stars. But as he sat across from you at the restaurant, he realised he hadn’t actually asked.

He valued communication, he thought he was pretty good at it. But he’d settled into such a comfortable settlement with you that it had slipped his mind entirely. You didn’t mind. You were on the same page as him.

You referred to him to those closest to you as your boyfriend. You weren’t sitting around, desperately waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend, if that’s how you felt you would have asked him before you got to this point.

The two of you were doing what you usually did, you ordered a few different things with the intention of sharing, and Mike, as usual, was way more interested in what you had picked than he had.

You were giggling across the table at him, watching the way the breeze from the window by your table kept blowing his hair into his mouth. .”Here,” you took the scrunchie from your own hair and stood up, coming to a rest behind him.

He tilted his head back - good for him, he could see your face; bad for you, you couldn’t grab all his hair - while you worked and after a second you’d tied his hair up out of his face.

You moved to return to your seat, but he half-lifted himself from his chair to make sure he got to kiss you before you left. “Thank you, honey,” he said softly. Your thumb rubbed his cheek with a soft touch.

“‘s okay,” you mused, looking at him. He loved the look you got in your eyes when you were fully concentrated on his face, he wondered if he got the same look when he saw yours. “You look cute.”

“Says you,” he mumbled, looking down at your outfit. He could tell you’d put in extra effort, he wanted you to know it hadn’t been for nothing. “Y’look so pretty today, can’t believe I get to be the one here with you.”

You giggled, preening under his thoughtful gaze. You could feel your cheeks growing warmer, but you made yourself not look away from him. “Yeah?”

He turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Can’t believe I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend properly,” he sounded so positively disappointed that you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled a little bit harder. “Oh, baby,” you let your thumb brush his lips, soaking in the way he kissed the pad of the finger. “Can’t be embarrassed, I didn’t even realise.” Mike hummed in question. “Don’t know,” you shuffle in place. “in my head you’ve been my boyfriend for like six months.”

“Thank god,” Mike laughed, letting his head drop. “Quick, sit down, I need to ask you to be exclusive so I can tell people that I did.”

You pause for a second before nabbing the fork on his plate, scooping up a piece of chicken before sitting back in your chair. “Go on, then, boyfriend.” You take a bite. “Get it over with, I’m hungry.”

THREE. december 2017

You were curled into Mike’s side when you got the text. You didn’t usually look at your phone when the two of you were together, but he was watching a documentary about something that didn’t interest you, while you were reading a book on your phone.

He had his hand sitting on the back of your neck, knuckles brushing a line from the nape to the top of your shoulder. It was one of your costars from an earlier project, sending you a link.

“LMAOO not people”

It was a People magazine article, one that instantly had you rolling your eyes. Mike sensed your shift in mood and laid his palm flat on the curve of your shoulder. “Okay?”

“People says we’ve been together since…” you scrolled through the article.” “October last year,” you snickered.

“Cant believe you didn’t tell me.” Mike let his head fall back against the sofa. “I wish,” he said as an afterthought.

“You didn’t even know me back then,” you pointed out.

Mike leaned forward and kissed your temple. “Still,” he said, concretely no but with supreme amounts of gentleness. “I’m sure I would’ve wanted you with great desperation.”

You and Mike had gone through conversations before about revealing your relationship to the public. You had little to no intentions of doing that, especially not so soon. But you’d wanted to manage expectations.

You’d become famous young, not as young as some, you’d only been twenty when you landed your first major role. You’d done principal photography during your summer break in college, working towards getting your degree, and by the time you graduated you had two feature films and one golden globe nomination under your belt.

You’d had a college boyfriend at the time, it had ended naturally, not without pain, but not as a result of your blossoming career. The magazines had eaten it up, though, with all sorts of speculations.

You didn’t want that again. You didn’t owe them anything. And you were so grateful that Mike seemed to share the sentiment. You were so grateful to your fans but you knew at the end of the day that they didn’t own you, which is why you were not above lying to them to keep them out of your life.

Especially when the comments of the post were already filled with dozens of suggestions to who it could be. Not when your friends, your coworkers, or random strangers who hadn’t done anything other than be someone people thought you might like if you met them, we’re getting their personal lives dug into in order to confirm a suspicion that a stranger had about you.

Not when you were curled up in the arms of one of the kindest most charming men you’d ever known, one that you might even want to spend the rest of your life with. He definitely didn’t deserve this, and neither did you.

So, you went into your camera roll and found a selfie you’d sent to one of your friends a few days earlier. You typed up a short sentence and then hit post on your Instagram story without thinking too hard about it.

When you showed it to Mike he smiled endearingly. “Aw man,” he mumbled, pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me we broke up.”

FOUR. march 2018

Days on set were long, they were often exhausting, and they were where you’d thrive.

You’d finally wrapped after thirteen hours, and the first thing you did when you got your phone out of your trailer was to text Mike.

He was in New York still, but you guys had been speaking as often as you could. With him three hours in front of you, it often ended up in the two of you just missing each other. Mike had texted you four hours earlier while you’d been filming.

You look pretty here.

It’s a Vanity Fair video that you filmed about a month ago with one of your costars. It was a movie about love, being in love, loving people, loving places, loving time. Your character was the main romantic love interest to the main character, and she was one of your favourite characters that you’d ever played. A young woman who finds love in her career, love in her family, and eventually begins giving it to the main character. You and your costar had become very close, and you were talking candidly to them in the video about your experience with love.

Mike had sent you a screenshot of the video, where you’re smiling across to your costar. It had been a simple question they’d asked; have you ever been in love.

Now, you couldn’t say blatantly, “yes, I have a boyfriend.” And you couldn’t say that for two reasons. Number one, you and Mike had been so careful to the point where you didn’t even think your fans knew that the two of you were aware of each other, let alone that his tongue had been in your mouth.

And number two was that you hadn’t actually told Mike that you loved him. You did, god you did. You probably would have told him months ago if things were more normal. If you both worked 9 to 5s, you lived primarily in the same city, you could go on dates and pull him over to the side of the sidewalk, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss him.

Unfortunately, you’d spent months apart, and while you spoke multiple times a day, at least through texts, it felt like not the right time.

You try to brush off your smile as you reply to him. Stop ittt you’re giving me an ego <333. In that exact moment, you know what you’d been spewing some media trained answer that avoided mentioning your partner but still felt authentic. “I’m just really glad that I spent most of my early twenties trying to find myself before trying to find someone else, I guess.”

Mike took a moment to reply. Guess you didn’t find me :(

You giggle as you finish changing back into your own clothes out of the costume you’d just been wearing, ready to head home now that your last scene of the day had concluded. Nope! You sought me out 100% I actually have no idea who you are.

That time the reply was instant. This is awkward then. What else is instant is the knock on your trailer door, the way you wrap your arms around him once you’d thrown open the door, and the knowledge that you’re going to tell him that you love him.

FIVE. september 2018

Mike knows that most people are more nervous to meet their girlfriend’s parents than he currently is, and ironically that actually does make him nervous.

It wasn’t really his first time meeting them, he’d spoken to them on the phone before and he’d even texted your mom a couple of times when you’d asked him to. You’ve been his girlfriend officially for almost an entire year, but the two of you both agreed that you felt you’d been together since July of the year earlier. That was over one whole year together. Even if your parents didn’t like him - which, based off the amount that not only he’d spoken to them, but you’d talked about him, seemed almost impossible - it wasn’t going to be the be all or end all.

But he wanted your mom’s birthday brunch (of which she was very serious about) to go well as his first official family event that he attended as your boyfriend.

The two of you were getting ready at his place, as you do most days that you’re in New York. You spend maybe two or three months in your home state and as you and Mike are together for longer and longer, you spend as much time together as you can. Mike had not only let you spend every second you could at his apartment, he’d actively encouraged it.

You’re wearing an outfit he’s seen on you a hundred times, standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he ducks in to grab his phone. He stops behind you, watching you apply mascara, and places both his hands on your shoulders.

“Love you,” you say absent-mindedly, trying to focus on not stabbing yourself in the eye.

He squeezes your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck, the closest part he can reach. “Love you more. I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”

You lean back so your face is no longer just inches from the mirror. “Reservation’s at 11 so we should probably leave soon,” you say. “Give me five or so minutes.”

You let him hold your hand the entire way to the restaurant, knowing exactly how nervous he is. He’s a grown man, he knows your mom already loves him, but he appreciates that you don’t say any of this as he follows you into the restaurant.

Your mom is already there, with two seats beside her that Mike knows are reserved for you, and she leaps out of her chair at the sight of you. You greet her with a hug and a happy birthday, having let Mike hold the gift so he felt less like he was coming empty handed (you’d bought it together). The second you’re out of her path, she’s coming for him. “Oh, it’s so lovely to finally get to meet you!” She’s gushing over him and he’s trying not to look embarrassed in front of you.

He fits right in with your family, sitting on your left hand side while you sit pride of place beside your mom. He gets caught up in one of your mom’s friend’s conversations (“Oh I just adore Broadway, what’s it like?”) and that’s when your mom takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper over her bellini to you.

You lean in so you can hear her without much strain.

“I’ve never seen you look this happy.”

You beam back at her.

SIX. november 2019

You’re thinking of selling your California apartment.

You know it’s probably a bad idea, and that because you spend so much time in LA, it’s good to have a place to call home. But you also feel like it’s keeping you tied to the west coast. That you’re more likely to spend more time in California if you have a place there, and that’s not something that you want anymore.

You’ve been in California for the last nine months, it’s been longer than that since you’ve seen your family, your friends, or your boyfriend. You missed your two-year anniversary because you spent the day on set and Mike wasn’t able to fly out due to his work schedule.

You have your co-stars, people you spent months with every day that you genuinely enjoy being around - one of them you even worked with on a past project, you spend a lot of your free time with them between takes - but it’s not the same.

And now you’re done. You have over seven months until press from this movie begins and then you have to start working again. Normally, you’d stay in California while you looked for another project to latch onto, but that wasn’t what you wanted to do.

You missed Mike, plain and simple. He was in New Jersey filming a movie, but that’s about as far away as he’d be if he was in New York. You knew of plenty of actors who didn’t live in LA and still made it work just fine, and as far as home states went, you could definitely have done worse than New York.

“I think if it’s something you want to do you should look into it.” You’d called your boyfriend to have him either talk you into or out of it, but frustratingly all he’s done is point out that it’s your apartment and that he’d be kind of an asshole if he pushed his opinion on your assets onto you.

“I want your opinion,” you let out a dramatic sob, sitting at your kitchen counter. Your phone is on speaker while you’re on your laptop, answering emails.

Mike laughs, it’s crackly through the phone but you know the ins and outs, the layers of breath. “My opinion is that you should do what feels right for you, and I’ll back you up no matter what.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, changing tabs to instead look through your camera roll. You had a few days left to post one of your monthly photo dumps, something you much preferred to posting consistently. There was one photo that your camera roll had put in the forefront, of you at dinner with Mike and two of your mutual friends to celebrate his 27th birthday. You’d taken the photo almost eleven months earlier, and hadn’t done anything with it, but you did think you looked cute.

“I love you,” he offers instead.

You hum in response, bringing up the photo. “Is it weird if I post a photo from your birthday dinner? You’re not in it, obviously.”

He laughs at your bluntness. “Right, because why would I be in it? It’s only my birthday.”

That brings you out of it. “No, wait,” you giggle. “Just cause I don’t want them to know that it’s your dinner, idiot.”

Mike groans. “I was gonna ask when you next are coming home but I actually don’t care anymore about it.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what to do about my apartment.”

“Forgive me?”

“Fine, I love you or whatever.”

Mike laughs again, and you don’t even notice the crackles. “Or whatever.”

SEVEN. november 2019

You don’t think you’ve laughed this hard in a while.

“I’m sorry,” she moans, leaning on your shoulder.

You’re with one of your closest friends, sitting on your sofa, almost crying with laughter. You’d been staying with her while the sale of your California place was going down, with every intention of moving back home to New York after it was done. She’d commented on your yearly photo set, talking about a photo of you and your mom, and you’d realised exactly where people’s minds would go.

“No,” you giggle, “I was the one who decided to be messy and post the photo.” You’d posted a photo that had been taken of you and Mike when he’d come to visit you on set the year earlier. Everyone knew it was old, you’d thought it was funny, and sure you had probably revealed a little bit too much about your relationship, but Mike had thought it was funny too, so that was enough for you.

Your favourite part, though, was that not a single person had commented, tweeted, messaged you asking who he was, if he was your boyfriend, or what was happening. You hadn’t seen a single person give a fuck.

The two of you had been sneaking around like teenagers and literally no one had cared, so Mike had allowed you to be a little messy on your Instagram feed.

“If I’m the reason you and Mike get doxxed you can feel free to post any blackmail you have of me,” she promises. You can tell she feels awful about the possibility of having just exposed your multi-year long relationship, but if you’re honest you think it’s kind of funny.

You wave her off. “No, I guarantee no one even cares. Worst case scenario someone asks, you just tell them you were talking about the photo of me and my mom, it’s so fine.”

The reason that you’d posted that photo now was because when it had been taken, things were definitely too new to be making hints towards it, and you would have posted a more recent picture but that was literally the only one of the two of you you could fine.

And the best part was while all this was happening, so blatantly obvious to everyone who knew, you still got so many comments, dms - fucking interview questions - asking if you had a boyfriend, and every single time you’d either dodge it or outright say no.

Your phone vibrated; a text from Mike.

Rachel told me she hasn’t seen a single tweet about it and if anyone would have seen it it would be her.

yeah i run a stan account of you and haven’t put my phone down in 8 years - rachel :))))) She sends an entire row of kisses with hers.

You’d met his costar a few times, only over the phone, and he sent you pictures of the two of them together on set often. You heart her message, giving his a thumbs up and knowing that she’d appreciate that.

“See, it’s fine.” You show your friend.

She breathes an audible sigh of relief. “In my defence you did post the photo.”

EIGHT. june 2020

The plan had been in the works for six months before it got derailed. Your California apartment had officially been sold, and you were set to move in to Mike’s place until you settled back in. Once things had calmed down with work for the two of you, you were going to start looking for your own place together.

You’d ended your lease in your New York place, you had all of your stuff - not that you carted much around with you anyway - most of the furniture you had came with the place, and you’d donated or sold most of it. You had been living off of display furniture and minimal decorating, knowing that wherever it was would sit vacant most of the time anyway. This was going to be it, where you finally started building a life, and you’d be doing it with Mike.

And then the country had gone into lockdown and, after a very lengthy conversation, the two of you had decided to relocate back to Columbus, Ohio, where he had a place for when he went to visit family.

It had been a fast move, but you’d planned for every thing that you possibly could have. Your family was safe, in New York, and you knew that was the best place for them to be. Your dad had an autoimmune disorder, so you knew that even if you were living in the city you wouldn’t be able to visit them much anyway. After three years with Mike, spending most of your relationship states away, you couldn’t let him leave without coming with him.

So, there the two of you were. In Mike’s house in Ohio, one that was entirely familiar to him and somehow, it felt that way to you as well. Like you knew him so well that anything he knew was something you instinctively understood.

Despite how long you’ve known Mike, how long you’ve loved him, you feel a bit like you’re taking over his space. Like when he moves something to make room for one of your trinkets that you’re minimising him in his own home.

He doesn’t let you think that for long. Sometimes you’ll come into your shared bedroom and find him rearranging his bookshelf so your books fit too, moving his Grammy to a shelf where there’s enough room for it to sit beside your awards, changing the sheets to a set that you’d picked out.

You’ve been a successful working actor for the last eight years now, for almost five of them you’ve forgotten what it’s like to go outside and not worry that you’re going to be spotted.

Sure, when you go outside now, you’re masked and there’s less people outside to recognise you. But to the people you do run into, you’re not an actor to them, not a celebrity, not anything. You’re Mike’s girlfriend.

You can understand how that’s frustrating, you are your own person, but after three years of being together but constantly apart, you’re okay with your neighbours knowing you simply as Mike’s girlfriend.

Now that you’re always in the house your screentime goes way down, you don’t need to text him anymore. All of the things that had you stressed and anxious to leave the house for have changed. And of course the state of the world is by no means good, but if everything is going to be happening anyway, you’re glad that you’re able to be with him during it.

NINE. october 2020

You had become a bit of a homebody in the 9 months that you’d been living in Ohio. You only ever left the house when Mike did, and you didn’t go with him every time. Mike can tell it’s starting to wear on you a little bit.

So, in an effort to pick yourself up a bit more, you’ve started doing all the grocery shopping. You and Mike make a list together so as to not give you all the mental load with it, but you walk down the few blocks to the small general store.

It’s convenient, a nice place, with a pharmacy attached to one side and a bakery on the other. Sometimes you take Austin and the girl who works at the bakery puts a bowl down for him while you go in and get your medication.

Sometimes you drive, when you have the aching exhaustion that only comes with being sad for hours on end, or when it’s raining, but the fresh air and just the act of being outside was usually enough to make you feel better.

It was late, and the pharmacy was closing soon when you realise you’d forgotten to pick up your medication, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll zip down and grab it while Mike makes dinner.

You’ve slowly started setting down roots here, the shop assistants know your name and your prescription, they know you and Mike have officially moved into the mostly vacant house a few streets away, and they know that you seem like you’re maybe not always doing the best, because they’re always extra kind to you when you need it.

You like the domesticity. Sitting on the kitchen counter while goes through the fridge, telling you what to write down. Walking his dog - Austin absolutely loves you, which Mike did tell you is normal for most people - or holding his hand with his spare one on the leash.

You’ve been really tired lately, and despite the fact that it’s meant to be your time to be by yourself and get fresh air, you find yourself in the kitchen, arms around your boyfriend’s waist. “Please?” You ask.

Mike’s stirring something cheesy on the stove. You can smell it behind the wall of his cologne, the smell of wood and cinnamon. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he laughs and you feel the vibrations where your cheek is pressed to his back. “It’ll be cold by the time we get back.”

Your voice is small, and he knows he has zero intention of actually saying no to you, but he’s wondering if you’ll change your mind given a little bit of coaxing.

“We have a microwave.” He wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t so close to him.

He loves you, and he’s also not blind. He can see you’re struggling. He likes to think he knows exactly when to give you space, and when you need him there. He puts the spoon down on the cutting board he has beside the stove and turns off the gas. “Okay,” he says comfortingly.

You brighten, and he feels you stand up straighter. “You’ll come with me.”

Mike doesn’t even pretend to think about it this time. “Of course I will.”

TEN. february 2021

Press was finally happening for your project that you had filmed all the way back towards the end of 2019, and with that came your first ever zoom interview. It was a bit awkward, you’d never really liked doing press much face to face but now online it was worse.

You and Mike had both found it a bit weird. He’d done a bit more of it in 2020 than you had, so you’d asked if he’d be in the room where possible to help ease your nerves.

You were in your bedroom, set up at the designated Work Spot. You and Mike had made an agreement, no work was to be done outside of the Work Spot. It was the only thing that stopped it bleeding into your everyday life, especially now that you were working from home.

Mike was out of frame so you could still see him, sitting in the corner reading a book. He’d glance up at you every single time you looked at him, like he could feel that you needed him.

Things were going well, it wasn’t a standard interview with an interviewer, but rather you’d been given a list of questions that the group of you took turns asking the others and then answering yourself.

There was a bit there where you knew you had a note written down about something important, but you’d written it on Mike’s phone. It was the only one near you at the time, and you were actively regretting it now.

You muted yourself on your computer and tried to subtly gesture for him. He notices you immediately and comes to stand right beside him.

“Can I grab your phone really quick?” He hands it over.

“You okay?” He asks, wary of the camera he’s standing just outside of frame of.

You unlock his phone and open up his notes app, trying to find what you’re doing. Mike didn’t have a phone case until you met him, but you’d cajoled him into a clear on“Did you…” you hum. “Did you move my note?”

You handed Mike back his phone and told him what he’s looking for and he scrolled for a second. “No?” He frowned. “Uh…” he bites his lip. “Oh wait, I cleared out a bunch of stuff hang on.”

You can hear everyone else, so you know no one has clocked your absence yet. “Found it,” he hands you back his phone and pulls up the one. “This one?”

“Love you,” you say in lieu of an answer. He gives you a look that makes a smile worm its way onto your face.

Mike goes to sit back down as you skim through your note, ready to have your talking points ready. “Love you,” he calls back.

When it’s eventually your turn to answer, you turn your microphone back on like nothing ever happened. And your costars, who all knew everything were was to know about exactly who you’d been talking to, all kept their mouths shut too.

ELEVEN. august 2021

The material of your dress was scratching his skin, but Mike couldn’t seem to mind when you were so deliriously happy. In one hand you had a glass of champagne and in the other a beautiful bouquet of flowers that you’d snatched from the air after it had left the hands of your childhood best friend.

People had been giving him knowing looks about it since then, upturned smirks and elbows to his ribcage. Mike laughed it off. The two of you were good, and he knew that you weren’t the type of girl to expect a proposal just because she caught the bouquet.

Over the course of the night he had stood by, chatting idly with another group of plus ones. He’d met your best friend countless times, but there was no denying that he would not have been invited if he hadn’t been with you for the last four years. He was just happy that you seemed to be having a good time.

Eventually, you staggered over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t drunk, didn’t need to be, you were simply so elated to not only be able to leave the house without feeling anxious but also to be able to celebrate your best friend getting married.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He chuckled, your nose pressed to his adam’s apple.

You hummed. “Yeah. Tired. Happy. Miss you,”

He ran his hand along the back of your dress, cringing at the material. “‘M right here.”

The night was winding down, it was out in a big greenspace that they’d rented, the sun had well and truly set. You were basking in the glow of the massive outdoor lamps they’d set up, and they bathed you in a golden hue.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said genuinely. “I’m really happy.”

You were swaying on the spot slightly to the faded jazz playing in the background, and he let his arms envelope you, pulling you impossibly close to him. “Of course, baby,” he’s beaming wide, his voice low and soft. You can hear how happy he is.

It’s your first time being back in New York since you left, your longest stretch away from your home state in your whole life. The two of you have started looking for work again now that things are starting to open up. Mike’s riding the high of his West Side Story performance, he’s been getting offers since it came out. He hasn’t taken any of them, though, instead focusing on smaller things that he likes more. The TV show he’d spent a while filming in Texas had been cancelled, which was a shame because you really enjoyed watching TikTok edits of him in that.

Instead, he’d been waving off scripts his agents sent him. He’d been asked to do a screen test in a movie in the UK, but he didn’t seem to interested in it. The most interesting thing about it was that his screen test was apparently with Zendaya, so you’d encouraged him to go just to meet her.

Things are picking up again. Your agent’s sending you offers and auditions and after two years of not being on set you’re itching to get back.

But, getting back meant going back.

You’d settled in Columbus. You didn’t want to leave, but you and Mike both knew that you’d have to go back to New York.

It was something that you’d been talking about for a while, getting another place in New York. You’re fortunate enough that it’s something you’re able to afford, and it seems like a good idea. It doesn’t need to be discussed tonight, though.

Instead, you ask him quietly, “Are we ever gonna get married?”

Mike mused, “Do you want to?”

You’re playing with the longer strands of hair on the back of his neck. “I think I might. With you.”

“Yeah?” He asks. He feels so warm inside there’s glee practically pouring from him.

“Not right now, though,” you admit. “I think I want more of a career before I’m willing to become known as someone’s wife.” Mike knows exactly what you mean, and that even though you eventually want to be his wife, that regardless of what you’ve accomplished, from that moment on there will be people who know you exclusively as ‘Mike Faist’s wife.’ At this point in time, you’re not even known as his girlfriend, a fact that the two of you enjoy.

“You just let me know,” he hums. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

You’ve been together almost four and a half years now and still no one knows. You don’t really need people to.

You kiss his jaw and reach down to take off your heels, complaining about your feet. He takes them from you and watches as you make your way back towards your friends. He knows he’s going to ask you one day, and he knows you’ll say yes. The two of you know just how much you love each other. You don’t need anyone else to just yet.

TWELVE. november 2021

So, a new arrangement has been reached. You n’t living in New York permanently but you have a lease on a place together. You’re back to doing live press, with the movie finally being shown in theatres. To be completely honest, you’re pretty much done with press on this movie. When you were cast in it three years ago, you didn’t expect that you would still be doing it.

Mike is sympathetic but amused. They haven’t organised the screen test for that one movie yet but that’s because the director was working on another project and the one Mike had been scouted for had been pushed back for a short period.

Sometimes companies will send you a car to come to your interview, but you take the subway home. Mike comes with you most times, more than happy to come tag along and sit in a room with your stuff and bring you your water bottle between shoots.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him genuinely the fourth time he does it. He kisses your forehead. “You didn’t have to come with me, I appreciate you.”

He hums as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “I need to earn my keep somehow, I’ve been your stay at home boyfriend for like two years.”

You giggle around the straw of your water bottle, softening at the way he reaches to take it from you. “And your services have been appreciated and they will be missed when you inevitably book again.”

It’s not something that you expect to be so comforted by. The knowledge that wherever you’re living - Ohio, New York, California, wherever, even if you’re in different states - that you just love being around him. No matter how much time he spends with you, he doesn’t get sick of you, you don’t get sick of him.

You’re infinitely happier when he’s within arms reach than when he’s not.

“Only book I care about is the one I’m reading over there,” he leans in to kiss you briefly. The director of the shoot gives out the five minute warning to roll into the next section, Mike takes your phone and water bottle and heads back to his corner.

It’s almost comedic, the way that the producer immediately starts the next section with asking you “Do you have a celebrity crush?”

You have to make a conscious effort to not look over at Mike, even though you know he’s watching you.

“Uh,” you laugh awkwardly, “I don’t really have one.”

Your coworkers’ faces are stone, and you don’t know if that make you want to laugh more or not. You keep your eyes directed straight at the barrel of the camera and you know everyone’s going to see how uncomfortable you are.

“I guess having one when…” you struggle to find the right words, “when you are where I am in life, is just kind of weird,” you laugh again. “It feels wrong, I don’t know.”

You finally let your gaze land on your boyfriend. He’s smiling at you, and you calm immediately knowing that even once you’re out of this building, back on the train to your one bedroom, your hand in his, sharing earbuds, he’ll be there.

THIRTEEN. april 2022

“Tell me again, what she said,” your feet are in Mike’s lap. You have people over, and you can’t imagine being happier. Your apartment is bustling, a charcuterie board that you are very proud of on the kitchen counter. You still have New Years decorations up, and there’s music playing. Mike got back from his screen test a week ago, and you’re revelling in his presence again.

Mike takes a sip of his drink and moves so he’s resting his arm on your calf. You have a few of your friends sitting on the sofas around you, hanging on to every word. “She told me to tell you-”

You interrupt him, too excited “She brought me up!” You giggle over your champagne.

Mike giggles, the side of his mouth pinching up with his smile. “Zendaya wanted me to tell you that she had just seen your most recent movie, and that she thought you were really good in it.”

You flail back so you’re resting on the arm of a friend. “Zendaya knows my name.”

One of your friends puts his drink down on the coffee table. “Don’t you guys have a Grammy in your bedroom, why are you surprised by this?”

“It’s not mine,” you roll your eyes, tipsy off the champagne and drunk on the party. “I would never take credit for my wonderful boyfriend’s accomplishment.”

“She’s taken so many selfies with it,” the friend you’re leaning on chimes in.

Mike laughs and almost as if by magnet you’re trying to get closer to him. Your head comes up beside his, resting on the wall behind the couch, his hand on the back of your neck.

You don’t even know what you’re celebrating. Just being able to have people over, having a space to have them in. Having someone you’d want to host a party with.

“Okay, and?” you shoot back. “You’ve taken selfies with me.”

He’s kissed the hollow of your collarbone, his hair, getting longer now, tickling your neck. You love him so much, you’re surprised there’s enough room in the apartment for all your guests with how much space it’s taking up.

The apartment itself is obviously a new development in your life, but the area isn’t. Just two streets over is the apartment you were living in when you met Mike. Barely furnished, not decorated, not lived in.

A place so physically close to the room you’re sitting in with a group of people you love more than life, but that couldn’t have possibly been further away. Now you have family pictures on the wall, you have his toothbrush right beside yours. You have a ticket to the show of Dear Evan Hansen you went and saw right when you two got together, sitting front row in the audience and marveling in the fact that the man onstage liked you, pride of place in your clear phone case. He has a ticket stub from that time a theatre in Columbus was playing a rerun of your feature film debut and he’d dragged you with him to go see it wedged in his. You have a delicate chain around your neck with an M on it so well hidden it might as well be lost to legend, he has your first initial hanging on his keychain.

It’s been five years, three lived-in states, several hundred shared meals, and an apartment just two streets away, but as you laugh at a story someone is telling, your cheek pressed against Mike’s, you’ve never felt closer to home.

#mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers

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wannabanauthor · 3 days ago

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I feel like Season 1 Buck would have been absolute menace if he met Tommy.

Buck is a natural flirt, and Tommy didn’t come out until after he left the 118, so I know that they would have had a hot and messy fling.

I’m betting it would have taken them a week at most before they started hooking up. Maybe Buck promises to stop stealing the engine for sex if Tommy gives him a helping hand. And Tommy benefits because he gets to hook up with a hot guy.

But real life emotions and feelings arise, and they both don’t know how to handle it. Tommy starts getting jealous because Buck is a huge flirt, and Buck is realizing that sex with Tommy isn’t just sex anymore. It’s something more, and he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He’s straight but enjoys sex with a guy.

Tensions arise, and maybe they get in a fight after working on a stressful call. Tempers flare, and it becomes a yelling match that the entire station is witness to. And they’re not even speaking to each other at the end of the shift.

Buck decides to yield first and drives to Tommy’s house that same night.

When Tommy answers the door, Buck is too distracted by how good Tommy looks in civilian clothes to have a proper conversation.

He just walks inside staring at Tommy and kisses him passionately. They don’t talk, not really. They use their mouths for other more pleasurable things.

It’s different this time. There’s a tinge of desperation and the fact that they don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering them.

Once they’ve thoroughly exhausted themselves, Buck is on his side facing Tommy while Tommy is on his back staring at the ceiling. Buck strokes Tommy’s face, and when Tommy looks at him, Buck pulls him closer and kisses him so tenderly.

They don’t know what to say to each other, so they just kiss, reveling in how good it feels to kiss just for the sake of kissing.

Buck’s gone by the time Tommy wakes up, and Tommy doesn’t bother to reach out.

During their next shift together, they avoid each other as much as possible. The rest of the team already expected this since their fight, so it’s not awkward.

Bobby takes notice, but he can’t figure out exactly what it is. One day he calls Tommy into his office and notifies him of a transfer opportunity. Tommy accepts without hesitation, but it only worries Bobby more.

Word gets around, and Buck is the last one to find out. He’s hurt, really hurt, but he can’t say anything on shift. Afterwards, he drives straight to Tommy’s house and confronts him.

It’s awkward when Tommy opens his door to Buck looking so defeated and miserable.

“So you weren’t going to tell me?” Buck asks.

Tommy rubs his own face, clearly not ready for this conversation.

“It would have been nice to find out from you rather than our coworkers,” Buck continues. “Is it because of me?”

Tommy is too guarded to properly have this conversation.

“It’s not about you, Buck,” he says and his face is blank.

Buck looks crestfallen. “Fine, I get it. We were just having fun, right?”

“I can’t do this with you right now,” Tommy says. Yes, he’s a coward. But it’s better to be a coward than to be a gay guy who’s falling hard for his young himbo coworker/fuck buddy.

Buck nods, and there’s a mixture of hurt and anger on his face. “Okay,” he replies, feeling super defeated and deflated. “Do what’s best for you. Maybe you’ll find whatever it is you’re looking for there. I want you to be happy, even if it’s away from me.”

Buck leaves after that, and Tommy breaks down crying in his kitchen.

Buck’s tears don’t even wait for him to get into his Jeep. Everything is blurry by the time he starts it up, but he wipe his eyes and drives off.

That night he’s in bed staring at the ceiling of his loft, wondering if he made a mistake in letting Tommy go.

Sadly, Tommy is wondering if he also made a mistake of letting Buck go.

To be continued…

I’m exhausted, and my eyes are closing, and I have no more ideas on how to continue this idea for a happy ending at the moment, so it’ll have to wait until tomorrow or later. Good night.

#wannabanauthor writes #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #buck x tommy #au BuckTommy fanfic #alternate meeting #season 1 Buck #closeted Tommy

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padfootagain · 3 days ago

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Love in Verses (XLVI)

Chapter 46 : ‘Both of us, of the love which makes us one.’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! A little academic update for our lovely couple…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3479

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

I loved you first: but afterwards your love Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove. Which owes the other most? my love was long, And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong; I loved and guessed at you, you construed me And loved me for what might or might not be – Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong. For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’ With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done, For one is both and both are one in love: Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’ Both have the strength and both the length thereof, Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

Christina Rossetti

The whatsapp group of the third-year students was busier than ever.

Texts after texts after texts were filling up the app, the screen constantly updated, a message chasing another.

The reason was simple. Professor Hozier-Byrne and Professor Y/L/N had been spotted chatting in a corridor… and they were standing very close to each other…

Were they touching?!?!

Nah… but they were leaning towards each other, it was adorable.

And Prof H-B was blushing. BLUSHING! And they were laughing like… I had never seen any of them so happy.

They’re definitely together. THE LOOK IN THEIR EYES LADS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A string of heart-eyes emojis followed.

I’m betting on them.

So… does that mean that our two fav literature professors are also IN LOVE?! My heart!!

God…

Do you think Pr. H-B’s poetry is about… HER?!

OMG!!!

A string of messages taking God as a witness of the student’s amazement followed.

We need to find out. We need to be certain!

And that was how Operation Love Birds began…

“Do you have any questions about this poem?” Andrew asked his students, readjusting his glasses, closing his copy of District and Circle.

Silence, but his students were clearly listening carefully to him, as several of them shook their heads.

“Alright, then… I reckon that’s all for today. Don’t forget that you have an essay to prepare for next week! Enjoy your weekend!”

He was already packing his things, thinking about you and the coffee break you had promised after this class. He knew you were wearing this shirt he loved on you, that green one that made his heart stumble and lose all kind of rhythm. He had seen you leaving your shared home wearing it, but you had a class early in the morning, while he could take his time. He remembered the way it revealed just enough of your cleavage to drive him nuts, though…

He was almost startled by the four students standing in front of him. Marie, Sheily, Saoirse and Sean. He knew them quite well by now, and so did you. They had steadily attended his and your classes every semester since their first year.

He quickly recovered and offered them a kind and expectant smile.

“We wanted to ask you about the essay for next week. We haven’t found many sources about the poem we’re studying, and we’re not quite sure about our interpretation… could you tell us if we’re going in the wrong direction?”

His smile only grew a little wider, and he wondered why one of the girls was repeatedly blinking when he pushed his hair behind his ear.

“Yes, of course. I know that some authors we’re working on in this class, being contemporary to us, don’t have that many academic resources about their work. I’ll give you a push, if you need.”

He tapped on the screen of his phone to check the time.

“I have to run now, but come by tomorrow afternoon to my office if you’d like. We’ll take a look at what you’ve been doing, and I’ll give you directions to finish your essay.”

“Thank you! Have a nice day, professor!”

“Thanks, have a good one too.”

Andrew let out a relieved exhale as the students left, and hurried to pack once more. His phone vibrated with your name colouring his screen.

Got your coffee, waiting in our office.

Hurry up. I want a kiiiiiiissssss!

Love you! xx

Andrew grinned without even noticing, throwing his pencil case in his bag and running to the door. The few students who were still in the room looked at him with raised eyebrows, and exchanged questioning glances at the sight of his sudden hurry. He who was always so calm, so composed, almost shy…

Andrew ignored them, though. He didn’t even notice that they were there at all. Instead, he rushed through the corridors of the old university, until he had reached your shared office.

He opened the door more violently than he meant to, making you jump. You were standing there, by the window behind his desk, a coffee in your hand. You were wearing that top, alright…

He hurried to close the door, rushed across the room, bending to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling, and dropped his bag next to his desk.

“Your coffee’s…” you started, pointing at the warm mug on his desk, but you stopped when he took your warm beverage from your hands to put it down on a nearby shelf. “Huh… that was mine!”

Instead of answering, Andrew merely stared at you, letting his gaze rake the length of your body, and he didn’t try to hide the hunger in his eyes.

“You’re wearing that top.”

You raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smug smile tugging at your lips.

“Yes…”

“You know I love that shirt on you.”

“Hmmm… yes, I kind of do. That’s why I chose it this morning.”

“Oh, I see… you woke up and thought ‘hey, how can I torture my boyfriend today?’…”

“Torture?”

“You clearly chose violence with that cleavage, honey…”

You bit on your lower lip, unable to refrain your grin any longer.

“Did I now? And I thought I would make you happy…”

“Oh, I’m delighted, don’t get me wrong.”

You wanted to add some banter, but his hands came up to rest on your cheeks, cradling your face to pull you closer while he bent down to kiss you, and you were left too breathless to speak.

“You’re so beautiful, my love. Absolutely gorgeous…” he whispered, his lips a breath away from yours, and despite the obvious desire in his words, his tone was infinitely tender. Adoring, even. “How did I get lucky enough for you to want me, huh?”

You giggled at that, the most adorable sound in the world, and he didn’t even notice that he was smiling.

“You planned a devilish plan to get back with your ex with me.”

“Our exes,” he corrected you.

“Hmm… yeah, that’s how.”

He shook his head, brushing his nose against yours in the process.

“I don’t think that’s how I did it…”

“No… You just had to be your kind, funny, handsome self…”

He rolled his eyes, and when you opened your mouth to protest, he merely closed the gap between your mouths, finally kissing you.

He was breathless by the time you pulled away, dizzy and happier than ever…

… how could you still make him feel this way after two full years?

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close, and he held your waist firmly against him, partly to keep you close but also to help you keep your balance as you had risen to your tiptoes so he wouldn’t have to bend so much.

“Well, professor… if you’re nice enough with me today… I might let you take this shirt you like so much off me tonight…” you whispered in the most tempting voice, making him groan.

“You’ll be the death of me…”

While Andrew and you were finally breaking your embrace, sipping on your coffees while imagining very graphic scenarios of how you would spend your evening together, the whatsapp group of your students, now rebranded as OP Love Birds was on fire again.

I couldn’t make out the face of the woman on the picture, but she had the same hair colour as Pr Y/L/N. And there was a dog in the picture too. Black and white dog. (it was adorable btw).

Okay, so H-B is definitely NOT single. And it could be Y/L/N.

And can we mention how he weirdly just… BOLTED out of the room?

Like?

Sir?

Calm down! Those legs are long enough to carry you at lightspeed already…

Unless he wanted to go back to Y/N!

OMG… I want them to be together so bad, they would be so cute together!!!

God, you had to talk to Andrew.

You finally had received a response for the publication of your article. The email dropped during your class, but you managed to sneak a peek at it, and… the article was accepted!

You were over the moon, and got distracted during the end of your class, you would willingly admit that. You stammered, stumbled over your words a few times, but it was okay. You didn’t mind. You couldn’t mind losing your cool when you had spent so long working on this bloody article. But it was finally accepted, it would be published, with your name on it, printed in full and you wanted to cry from the sheer expectation of finally seeing it for real, on a computer screen, with the name of one of the most renowned journals at the top of your paper.

You hurried through the corridor, knowing Andrew was coming back from a class too, and would soon have a meeting with some of his students about an essay. There was no time to lose. You wanted to celebrate with him, and get lots of hugs and kisses and see his proud grin on his face…

He heard you running down the corridor when he was just a few steps away from the door of your shared office, and he raised a perplexed eyebrow as you rushed closer.

“You’re alright?” he asked, turning fully to you.

“IT’S ACCEPTED! IT’S ACCEPTED!”

His surprise turned into bliss.

“Your article, you mean?” he asked, and you nodded excitedly, rushing in his open arms.

You buried your face in his chest, and jumped up and down in excitement. Andrew laughed.

“Congratulations, darling! You worked so hard on it!”

“Yes, I did!” you quipped, looking up at him.

“I’m so proud of you, that’s amazing!”

“YES!”

He checked the corridor, but there was no one in sight, so he bent down to kiss you, loving and passionate and taking your breath away.

“I’m so proud of you, baby!” he cooed, holding you tight again. “That’s amazing, congratulations!”

“I mean, it’s not my first paper… but it’s my first on this subject, and in such a big journal too…”

“Babe, I’m incredibly proud of you! And you should be too! Now, we can drink that bottle of champagne I had stashed for this.”

“You bought champagne for this?”

“Of course! You were so nervous about it… I know how important it was for you.”

“Thank you,” you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, and Andrew fondly shook his head at you.

“It’s the bare minimum, honey.”

“It isn’t. You’re the best boyfriend since Mr. Darcy.”

Andrew let out a loud laugh.

“Wow… that is very high praise!”

“The highest.”

You finally pulled away, but kept on holding his hands in yours.

You jumped at the sound of giggles coming from the staircase that led to the corridor, and you both let go, reluctance making your movements too slow for Andrew’s students not to notice…

“Ha! Come in, let’s take a look at what you’ve found so far,” Andrew called his students, and you greeted them as well.

It took them thirty seconds after they were out of your office to text the group.

THEY HAVE TO BE TOGETHER!!!

THEY WERE HOLDING HANDS IN THE HALLWAY WHEN WE ARRIVED TO THEIR OFFICE!

WHAT?!

OMG!!!

We need more proof! It is pretty compelling, but were they really holding hands?

They were letting go when we arrived.

God, I’m certain they’re together. ADORABLE!

We need more proof, just to be sure…

There was something off with your students, of that you were certain.

Nothing bad, by any means. They were all pretty fun to be around, focused on their studies too. You couldn’t complain about that class, really.

Except that they had started being a little weird for the past few weeks. They were whispering when they saw you, especially if Andrew was with you. You noticed that they tried to drag the informal conversations you had with them towards your personal life. But your doubts turned into certainty as you overheard a conversation between three of your students.

“They have to be together. Saoirse said they saw them holding hands.”

“They weren’t holding hands, they looked like they had been holding hands.”

“I’m sure Y/L/N and H-B are together.”

H-B?

Your brain finally clicked… Hozier-Byrne. Right…

“We need more proof.”

“More proof than the way H-B looks at her? Gosh… he’s head-over-heels… I wish someone could look at me like that.”

“He already looked at her like that when we were in first year, Sheily. And they weren’t together for sure at the time.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“The longing?! Now it’s more, ‘happily with the love of my life’ vibes. He looked sad every time she turned away back then.”

You decided that you had eavesdropped long enough and made sure to make a bit of noise before finally walking out of the classroom and into the corridor where your students were chatting. They fell silent as they saw you, but greeted you with a warm smile and polite hello.

You were to meet with Andrew at the library on the campus, both of you needing to pick up some books there. There was a sort of cafeteria nearby, where you wanted to pick up a snack and some coffee.

And Andrew was waiting for you, indeed, leaning against the stone wall of the library, with a hand in the pocket of his blue jeans, too busy looking at his phone to notice the way the students that passed by him were staring. It made you smile, the way he was truly clueless of how good he looked like this, with his hair let loose to reach his shoulders, white shirt, blue jeans and denim jacket, looking effortlessly handsome. Your heart skipped several beats at the sight. He must have felt you staring, because he finally looked up from his phone, readjusting his glasses, and immediately grinned as his gaze met yours.

“Hey! How was your class this morning?” he asked, and you saw the way he closed and opened his fist, longing to touch you but refraining as you were in public, and working.

“Nothing worth mentioning except… something I’ve overhead. Got tea to spill.”

He laughed, bright and loud as he opened the door of the library for you.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about it over coffee.”

“See! I knew you loved gossips as much as I do.”

“Hardly.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Absolutely not.”

You playfully stick out your tongue, making him giggle.

“Well, you’ll be definitely interested in that one, because it concerns us.”

“Us?”

“Yep…”

“Why would it be about us?”

“I’ll tell you later,” you teased, walking further into the library to pick up the books you needed, throwing a teasing smile over your shoulder, and if he replied by a roll of his eyes, he was blushing too.

You met up again to borrow the books, and Andrew read the summary of the two books you were taking with you as you exchanged niceties with the librarian. He kept carrying your books as you walked out of the building and towards the cafeteria.

It was almost an accident as you spotted the three students you had overheard earlier that morning. You were walking and chatting with Andrew, who was asking questions about the books you had just borrowed, when you felt someone staring. And indeed, the trio was looking at you and Andrew, whispering before deciding to follow you towards the cafeteria.

“So, that’s the analysis you were talking about yesterday, that pushed forward the historical and social dimension in the plays?” he asked, a small frown creasing his brow, showing that he was thinking and that he was fully focused on your conversation. Your heart beat a little faster at the thought.

“Hmm. Yeah, that’s it.”

“Sounds interesting. A little… narrowing, but interesting.”

“The second one is linked to Bakhtine’s theories though.”

“Hmm… yeah, I see. So, you’re…”

“Andy.”

“Hmm?”

“Sorry, I know I’m interrupting, but… see the three students behind us?”

“The ones we’re both teaching you mean?” he asked, trying to discreetly look over his shoulder.

“Yeah… they’re the ones I overheard this morning.”

“Oh… and? What did they say?”

You opened the door of the cafeteria, and joined the queue.

“They were discussing whether or not we are a couple,” you said in a whisper so he would be the only one to hear, and Andrew had to bend closer during the rest of the conversation.

“What?”

“They were arguing on whether or not we are a couple.”

He blinked, taking a couple of seconds to process your words.

“Oh… I see… I guess we weren’t as discreet as we thought we were.”

“I guess not. They mentioned how you look at me a lot.”

His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, but his gaze didn’t waver, remained fixed on you.

“Oh… I see.”

“Lovingly, apparently. You are ‘head-over-heels’ as they put it,” you teased, making him chuckle and blush even more.

“I can’t deny that,” he answered in a smooth tone that made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “It is hard to hide my thoughts when I look at you.”

“Hmm… I knew you adored me.”

He laughed.

“More than you could ever imagine,” he answered with a tender smile, while you took a step closer to the counter. “Although, not just that. I often imagine you in… interesting positions as well.”

You choked on your own breath at that, and Andrew sported a content smirk in return.

“Right… anyway. Apparently, we’ve blown our cover. Our students are catching up on us.”

“And what do you suggest we do then? I mean… we’re not breaking any rules, or doing anything wrong.”

“What are you saying?”

“That… maybe that’s okay if they know about us. I for one… wouldn’t mind that much.”

You couldn’t refrain your smile.

“At the beginning, you were adamant that we had to remain professional at Trinity.”

“Hmm… I mean, it was the beginning. I couldn’t be sure if it would work out between us. It was safer this way. Two teachers dating is gossip enough, without adding a break-up into the mix.”

“Hmm… but now?”

He looked away, turning to the list of pastries to choose a snack.

“What cake do you want?”

“A chocolate muffin.”

“I think I’ll take a blueberry one. And yes, you can have a bite,” he answered before you could ask the question.

“You didn’t answer.”

“Answer?”

“Why aren’t you worried about people finding out about us anymore?”

You saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way he tightened his hold on the books under his arm. His gaze was fleeing yours, still focused on the sweet treats in display, but he did answer, his voice so low and deep you barely heard him.

“Now, I know you’re the love of my life.”

You blinked tears away, staring at him, taking in a sharp breath at his words.

“So… I don’t mind if all our colleagues know, even students. I’m not afraid of you suddenly realising that you could have better and dumping my arse anymore. I’m not afraid of us not being able to make our lives align, or whatever obstacles might be thrown at us. I just… I really just want to stay with you forever, so… who cares if they know? I’m not afraid of a break-up anymore. So, I don’t mind.”

Finally, he looked down at you, frowned a little at the sight of shining tears caught on your eyelashes, but when you grinned up at him, he smiled too.

“I love you so much, you know?” was your only answer, and Andrew nodded.

“Yeah… I’m starting to believe in that concept,” he chuckled.

He didn’t move away when you touched his arm, hand moving down towards his. Instead, he took his fist out of his pocket, intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I really want to give these girls a heart-attack,” you confessed.

“You sure?”

“Hmm… are you okay with that?”

“Murdering students is illegal. Even if it’s not fully intentional.”

You chuckled, mumbling something about how silly he was. But then his stare caught yours, and you didn’t think as you rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, so you could kiss him.

When you pulled away, Andrew dropped a peck on the top of your head, before letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You wrapped your arm around his waist too, while discreetly looking over your shoulder.

The three girls were going crazy.

“So?” Andrew asked, moving forward as someone was leaving the queue.

“We might have to call an ambulance.”

You both laughed, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth sip into your frame, filling you with quiet and love.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier professor au #hozier au #professor au #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

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beyond-a-name · 2 days ago

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#“curse of transitioning too late” is an important part of the transphobe toolkit and needs to be queed wherever it appears #no matter when you transition you will not only look great but FEEL fantastic once your body's more in line with how you actually wanna look

tags from @harm-a-niece also because it's so fucking correct. it has been so beautiful to watch harm-a-niece bloom and as someone who loves it very much, I promise the beauty that radiates off of it is palpable, within and without

as someone on the other end, who was priviledged enough to start transitioning in my teens (around 16/17), it doesn't just magically make your insecurities go away. What helps with that most, regardless of how you look, is surrounding yourself with people who love you and will lift you up and help point out and nourish that beauty in you. Eating regularly and being around people who truly love me and show it every day has done so much more for my self-esteem than the knowledge that I started early or even the knowledge that I look objectively pretty.

If you are worried about "looking ugly", then anyone who makes you more worried about that is absolutely not going to help quell that insecurity. You will look and feel most like yourself when you do what feels best, when you start transitioning, and that unapologetically being yourself is not only fulfilling in its own right but it's what's going to help you find people who like you for you, who correctly tell you that you're beautiful, inside and out.

You don't need to manage other girls' projected insecurities like that. I promise you, it is okay to look transgender. Being transgender is a beautiful thing, no matter what those who'd tear you down will say.

We believe in you, @cr1zz0. All of our favourite women have started at your age or later and gods how they've bloomed... they make our heart sing.

Also you definitely don't need to wait for your mom's permission. you make your own choices and waiting for someone else to live your live is never gonna make it easier, it's just gonna keep you waiting. It's never too late, I promise you'll be so fucking pretty when you feel like yourself. If you're asking this, you know staying as a depressed and stifled "boy" isn't an option. You're already a woman. Don't you want to feel like it? Don't you want to enjoy it?

So here's an article to get you started on what transfeminine hrt looks like and how it works, on a website with a myriad of resources to help demystify transition and help you manage your own stuff if you so choose...

And here's the link to the transdiy subreddit, which has resources on how to reliably find doctors, blood tests, or just straight up manage your own hormone therapy, including places to order from online if you need.

Getting your mom's help will undoubtedly make things simpler, but you don't ever need anyone else's permission to be yourself. Not your parents, and sure as fuck not anyone who tells you that you'll "be ugly" if you do what makes you happy. Don't wait, girl. You're going to be beautiful and you're going to feel like you. I promise it is worth it, at any and every age you decide to start. I promise it is worth it.

im putting this to my phone and putting it on foreground in hope that mom will open it up and see it.

i hope my mom will piece it together... (or recognize the person)

coming out?? no.. this is not coming out... this is just purposely showing signs!!

#transfem #girls like us

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writing-the-stars · 2 days ago

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Hiii! You’re fics are amazing i’m in awe of your writing & the tension that you build between characters💞

I was wondering whether you could write an Aaron Hotchner fic which maybe follows on from your most recent fic about him, where Aaron and reader have their first kiss. I feel like it would all be in the little moments, like him being so gentle & reader being so nervous 🥹🥹🥹

Unraveled, Unveiled

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After finally breaking through Aaron Hotchner’s walls, a quiet, undeniable tension begins to build between you— one that can no longer be ignored. What starts as an evening of uncertainty and vulnerability gradually unravels the emotional barriers between you both, leading to a deeper connection neither of you expected.

Warnings: Angst (But it's not that bad. They're just nervous and awkward), Fluff, No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors (Hotch does call reader beautiful though), Smooching. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hi Anon! I was so excited to see your message in my inbox!! Thank you for requesting this!! Honestly, so happy you all loved my previous fic so much and I am so appreciative of the support! This is a continuation of the previous fic, but can be read as a stand alone. Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!! Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

There’s a familiar tension in the air of the bullpen—the kind that comes with working a case. This one, a series of abductions around McLean, Virginia, has a particular edge to it. While a local case makes it easier for the team to collaborate, it still never sits right when the danger is so close to home.

A flurry of activity surrounds you—agents moving in and out, phones ringing intermittently, the steady clicking of keyboards and pens. Yet, despite all the motion, your attention is elsewhere.

You sit at your desk, eyes skimming through the case files in front of you. But you’re not really reading. You’d like to blame it on the exhaustion you’re experiencing from the long hours of work, but it is something else entirely— a subtle pull that keeps tugging at you, an energy that hums quietly beneath your skin.

Across the room, you find the source of your distraction, Aaron Hotchner, standing near the whiteboard. His posture is stiff with concentration as he discusses how the latest victim correlates with the other abductees. His usual commanding presence is softened tonight, more by the weariness of the case than anything else. But his jaw remains tight with that familiar, quiet intensity.

The air between you has shifted ever since that quiet night in his office—a soft electric current that pulses in the spaces between your words. It fuels the quiet moments, sitting in the presence of each other, silent exchanges unnoticed by your unwitting team. The stolen glances, charged with something deeper than the usual camaraderie you used to trade. The brief brush of his hand when he passes you by. It’s consuming, this energy growing between you, undeniable.

As if pulled by the same magnetic undercurrent, his eyes meet yours and your heart stutters caught in that spark. His gaze lingers, longer than it normally would, eyes skimming every part of you before quickly snapping his attention back to the board— your shared moment of connection ending just as quickly as it began.

You lean back in your chair, case files momentarily forgotten as you let the cool air from the ventilation above wash over your face. Everything in the room feels louder now, sharper. Your heart squeezes at the thought of what’s to come. In the week that’s passed, things have been quieter. No grand gestures. No long talks about where things are going. You aren’t trying to rush anything. You know Aaron needs time, but you’d be lying if you said the burgeoning tension wasn’t about to make you snap. You long for a space with him where case files don’t matter, where the professional boundaries of the BAU are nothing more than an illusion. Somewhere far from the constant pressure of work—where you can just be.

Deciding you have spent far too much time ruminating over this, you sit up, ready to return to your case files, and are surprised to find Aaron’s eyes already on you. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even seem to breathe for a moment, but there is a flicker of understanding there. A soft, unspoken promise.

And then, the text.

“How about I pick you up at 7:30 tonight? I’ll take you to dinner— just us. No cases.”

The words are simple, but the implications hit you all at once. Aaron Hotchner wants to take you on a proper date. The realization makes you feel suddenly vulnerable. Nerves pulse through you, but you can’t help the flutter of excitement that curls in your gut. You’ve been waiting for this.

-*-

As 7:30 draws near, you find yourself standing in front of your hallway mirror, second-guessing every outfit you own. Is it too much? Too little? Will you seem too eager? Or too reserved? You want to look nice, but not like you tried too hard—something that says this didn’t take nearly as much effort as it actually did.

After your fourth change, you finally settle on a simple look: the outfit you wore to your cousin’s wedding a few years back. It’s one of your nicer outfits, but you can’t help the small seed of doubt that lingers. You’ve never worn anything like this in front of Aaron before. Usually, it’s sharp business attire, tailored suits, and the professional look you know best. But tonight? Tonight is special. You want your appearance to match the moment.

There’s a knock at the door, and your stomach flips. It’s time— no more second-guessing. You take one last glance in the mirror, smoothing a hand over your hair, and open the door.

There he is.

Aaron Hotchner stands in front of you, and for a moment, your breath catches. His usual impeccable suit has been swapped for a crisp button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just a touch, paired with well-tailored slacks. But it’s not the way he looks that steals your breath; it’s the way he’s looking at you. His gaze trails over you, not overtly calculating, but with something more subtle, more intense. There’s awe in his eyes, and for a moment, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat.

The sight of you standing there, bathed in the soft light of your hallway, makes his heart stutter in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Your outfit is simple, but somehow, it accentuates everything that makes you... you. Aaron has always admired your professionalism, your sharp mind, and the way you carry yourself. But now, something else hits him— your grace. It’s as though he’s seeing you for the first time— not just as his colleague or close teammate, but as you. And he can’t help but think how stunning you look.

He swallows, forcing himself to regain his composure.

You feel your pulse begin to thrum, a nervous flutter you can’t quite control. You knew he’d be here, but seeing him now— seeing him look at you like this— is a shock to your system.

You swallow and break the silence. “Hi,” you manage, even though it feels like the most inadequate word you could say in this moment.

“You look…” he falters, his voice deeper than usual, a slight rasp. He clears his throat, but there’s no masking the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “You look beautiful.”

The compliment is simple, but the way he says it— like everything else between you and him— feels loaded with meaning. The words settle into your chest, warm and comforting. No one’s ever made you feel seen quite like this. No one ever looks at you the way he does now, like you’re the only thing that matters in this space.

An uncontrollable smile stretches across your face, warmth pooling in your chest. You try to calm yourself. This is just Aaron. Just Hotch. You’ve worked together for years. You’re friends. But this? This is something different. And everything about tonight feels new.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly, wishing you could say more— something that could convey how much his words mean to you. But you’re not sure how to verbalize it, how to make sense of the nerves suddenly wreaking havoc on you.

He smiles, a small, genuine smile that makes your chest tighten. It’s a rare crack in his professional exterior. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a moment, a quiet hesitation before he meets your eyes again. The silence stretches between you—almost too long—before he reaches for you with a gentle, almost hesitant gesture. His hand is steady, but you catch the slight tremble in his fingers.

“Shall we?” he asks, the words hanging in the air like a soft invitation, a gentle nudge into the unknown.

With a nod, you slide your hand into his and allow him to lead you to his car. Like a true gentleman, Hotch opens the car door for you, letting you slide inside before he closes it gently and moves to the driver’s seat.

You buckle your seatbelt, your hands trembling slightly as you adjust it, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Aaron sits beside you. He starts the engine, the soft hum of it filling the car, but it’s as if neither of you knows what to say. The conversation between you, usually easy and casual, feels foreign now.

You glance at him— he’s focused on the road, his jaw set, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but there’s a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. You’re used to Aaron’s stoic, controlled demeanor, but now, there’s a slight edge to his movements, a quiet nervousness that surprises you.

For once, Aaron doesn’t feel like he’s in control. He doesn’t feel like the Unit Chief of the BAU or the calculating prosecutor he once was. He feels like a man standing on the precipice of something new— and he doesn’t know how to navigate it.

He didn’t expect this. Didn’t expect to feel so much. But this is just like him, always a step behind when it comes to his own emotions.

He steals a glance at you, only to find you already looking at him with that same wide-eyed gaze he has come to adore. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He thinks back to that fateful day, the moment he feared he would lose you— that you would never look at him that way again. A frown tugs at his lips. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. He had come so close to watching one of his greatest fears come to life.

You feel the drastic shift in Aaron’s demeanor, the subtle change as his tension takes on a darker form, something more than just nerves.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to break the quiet bubble between you two.

He glances over at you briefly, his dark eyes catching yours for a moment, and there’s something unspoken in that brief exchange. His expression softens, and his hand— still on the wheel— flexes slightly before he answers.

“I’m fine,” his voice is calm, but there’s an underlying warmth in it now— something unguarded, vulnerable. “Just…” He hesitates, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to find the words. “Just glad to be here with you.”

You blink at the simplicity of his words. It should’ve been obvious, but you hadn’t expected him to be so open— so real— about it. You nod slowly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad too,” you reply, and the words feel more truthful than they ever have before.

-*-

The restaurant is quiet, intimate—just the right place for a first date between two people who have spent more time working together than anything else. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware fills the air, but in your small corner booth, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. No team, no cases, no distractions. It feels like the first real moment where you can both breathe without the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Aaron is polite, professional, just like usual, but there’s still an edge to him that wasn’t there before. His movements are slightly more careful, his glances lingering just a little too long. It’s subtle, but you can feel it. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words, with things that haven’t yet been said— haven’t even been acknowledged.

An unexpected shyness swells up inside you. The weight of this moment finally settles over you. You had longed for a moment like this. A chance to be with Aaron in a more intimate setting, to step away from the roles you’ve both played for so long, to just be. The chemistry between you, the moments that lingered just a little too long, the small touches that didn’t feel quite so professional anymore— these things have been building to this exact moment. But now that it’s finally here, you’re terrified.

Not of Aaron. Not of the way he looks at you, but of yourself.

What if you ruin it? What if this is just a fleeting moment of warmth and compassion on his end? What if it’s an illusion that will vanish just as quickly as it appeared? And if it does— what will that do to you? To Aaron? To the team?

You realize just how fragile the balance you and Aaron have been maintaining is.

You reach for your napkin, fingers restless as you fiddle with the edges. You haven’t been on a date in years— not since college. Back then, everything seemed so simple. You were so carefree, your heart open and unafraid of the consequences. But now, everything is complicated. With all the history between you and Aaron, the stakes feel higher, the potential for things to go wrong just a little too real.

You shift in your seat feeling the awkwardness of the space between you. The tension between you both builds with every passing minute, the unspoken words sitting between you like a quiet invitation.

Clearing his throat, Aaron breaks the silence.

“Jack really enjoyed that recipe you gave me. Although I’m sure he’d much prefer it if you made it instead of me.”

You laugh, a genuine sound that has Aaron’s chest tightening in a way he isn’t ready to admit. There’s something about it— your laugh that feels more open, more real than the usual quick exchanges you share at work. You seem more... vulnerable tonight. Softer, in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Well, you earned Jack’s approval, so it sounds like your version is just as good,” you tease, but the smile you share with him falters for just a second. There’s a certain hesitance in your eyes, an unease that he can see you try to cover up.

But it’s there, unmistakable.

The silence falls again, this time a little heavier, a little more awkward. You take a sip of your wine, the cool liquid offering some comfort as you try to find your footing again. Aaron, ever the profiler, picks up on every shift in your body language. The tightening around your eyes, the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your gaze flits to his face before bouncing anywhere else. This is a reaction he didn’t expect. You’ve always been calm, collected, and self-assured. But tonight, you’re something else— he can sense the uncertainty beneath the surface.

Aaron had been so focused on his own nerves, on maintaining control. He never stopped to consider that you might be feeling just as uncertain as he is. It’s a humbling realization.

“What are you thinking about?” The question comes out softer than he intended, like an invitation to share something more than just surface thoughts. You realize, in that moment, that Aaron is asking for something deeper than just a simple response. It surprises you, though it really shouldn’t.

You meet his gaze, and it pulls you in, making you feel like you can’t hide behind your usual calm demeanor. “Nothing really... just nervous,” you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face as your eyes flicker down to your wine glass before meeting his again. “I’ve never really done... this before.”

Aaron’s brow furrows at the confession, and for a split second, his mind scrambles to find the right response. “A date?” His voice is soft, unsure if he should push or give you space.

You chuckle, a little self-deprecating, like you’re embarrassed by your own admission. “Well, no. Not since college. It’s been a while,” you confess to him, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass.

The revelation hits Aaron with an unexpected weight. He hadn’t anticipated this— hadn’t considered that you might be just as vulnerable as he is in this moment. It stirs something protective within him, an instinct to shield you from the unease you’re clearly feeling, though he doesn’t quite know how to do that yet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was the one giving you nervous butterflies.”

There’s a playful edge to his voice, but it’s gentle—reassuring in its own way. He’s trying to lighten the mood, trying to ease the tension. He wants you to know it’s okay to be this nervous, that it’s okay for both of you to be feeling your way through this.

You laugh again, the sound more relaxed this time. It feels good to admit it, to share something so personal with him. Something that feels so... human.

“It's not you,” you clarify quickly, shaking your head with a soft smile. “It’s just... been a long time. And this is, well, different.”

Aaron leans in slightly, as if trying to understand the weight of your words. “Different how?” His voice drops, a hint of curiosity threading through the quiet.

You hesitate, searching for the right words. You weren’t expecting this kind of openness from him— this willingness to understand what’s remained unspoken. It makes something in your chest loosen. But you’re not sure how to articulate it. Not entirely. So you start slow, the words coming out haltingly.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, feeling the weight of it as it settles in your chest. “It’s just that... all these years, we’ve always been on the same team, right? Always professional, always focused on the job. And now...” you shrug, a little self-conscious, but there’s a warmth to your smile as your eyes meet his. “There’s a new dynamic here, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

Aaron watches you for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. He feels a slight shift inside him, a slow understanding of the weight of what you’re saying. You’ve never hesitated before, never seemed unsure. And now, here you are—open, fragile in a way he’s never seen. It makes something twist inside him, protective and tender in equal measure.

“I get that,” he says quietly, his voice low, steady, “I’ve been feeling it too.”He pauses, then adds with a half-smile, “Though I didn’t think you’d be the one who needed more time to adjust.”

That pulls a soft laugh from you, the tension easing from your shoulders. You shake your head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t realize you were so smooth. But now that I know you’re actually just as nervous as I am...” you raise an eyebrow, teasing him a little, the playful banter easing the air between you.

Aaron chuckles, his eyes warming in response, “Guess we’re both pretending to be less nervous than we really are.”

The way he says it, so openly, makes your heart settle a little. You take a small sip of your wine, considering your next words. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here,” you admit quietly, your voice soft, unsure. “I mean, I had let myself hope, but with everything that’s happened.”

Aaron’s expression softens, and there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve thought about that too,” he murmurs, his jaw tightening just a fraction, as if the memories are sharper than he’s willing to admit. “We’ve both been through a lot. And I wasn’t sure what this... us could look like.”

The rawness of his words catches you off guard. There’s an honesty in them that feels almost like a relief. This isn’t just a date. It feels like a kind of truth that has been long overdue— something neither of you has ever fully addressed, but always carried.

“And now that we’re here,” you say softly, your voice tentative but sincere, “What do we do with it?”

Aaron exhales slowly, leaning back just slightly, his gaze flicking to the table before returning to you. There’s something different about the way he looks at you now, as if he’s no longer trying to figure out the next step, just... accepting it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability. “But maybe... maybe that’s the point. We don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

The weight of his words lands between you like a small relief, a shared surrender. The uncertainty, the not-knowing, doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It feels like a mutual acceptance, a quiet understanding that, for tonight, it’s enough to just be here. To let whatever happens next unfold without needing answers.

“I think I can live with that,” you murmur, smiling softly, your heart still beating a little faster than usual.

Aaron gives you a small smile, that familiar flicker of warmth in his eyes. The air between you both shifts again, this time more relaxed, less tense. There’s no more pressure, no need to define everything in this moment. Instead, it’s just the quiet promise of now, and maybe, just maybe, that’s all either of you needs.

The rest of dinner passes in a warm blur. The nervousness from earlier dissipating. You begin to feel more at ease, more sure of yourself in his presence. His presence has always had a grounding effect on you, but tonight is different. There’s no longer any distance. No professional separation.

He listens intently when you talk, eyes never straying from your face. There’s something about the way he is so present with you— like he’s hanging on to every word, absorbing everything you give him.

And when he laughs? When he smiles like he truly means it— it’s a rare thing. It makes your heart flutter. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so... unshielded. No armor. No walls. Just Aaron.

As he walks you back to your apartment door, you can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at you all evening, like he was struggling to maintain control. But even through his efforts, you could see the way his gaze kept drifting over you, lingering just a bit longer when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something in it— something that made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through you.

“I had a really great time tonight, Aaron,” you tell him once you reach your door, your voice soft but sincere.

Aaron smiles at that, his heart inexplicably light. “I did too.”

And then, his hand brushes yours, and suddenly you’re aware of how close you are. The contact is small, but it feels like everything. It sends a jolt through you, and your pulse quickens— nerves, anticipation, excitement all rushing through your veins.

You had wanted this. Wanted him. But now that you’re standing here, so close, it feels different. More real, more tangible than you ever expected. You’re afraid to move forward— afraid of what could come next.

And yet, in the silence, you don’t need to say anything. You feel it— an unspoken invitation in his eyes. The way he steps closer, ever so slightly, until there’s no more space between you. Aaron understands exactly what you want.

“Can I…” he hesitates, his hand lifting slowly, then pausing for just a moment before it gently cups your cheek. His touch is so soft, so tender, like he’s waiting for permission. Like he’s afraid to rush this. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of his cologne— familiar and comforting— encapsulates you, making your pulse race. His chest rises and falls just as erratically as yours.

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, the warmth of his hand against your skin a silent promise.

The world seems to pause just before his lips touch yours, and for a breathless moment, you’re not sure if it’s the right decision. But then his lips are there— soft, gentle, asking without words, and you know it’s the only choice that matters.

It’s tentative, careful. He’s holding back, as though afraid you might break. But the tenderness of it only makes the ache inside you deepen. You’ve waited for this. Both of you have, in your own ways. And here, now, it’s finally real.

You kiss him back with all the softness you had been holding inside, feeling the months of longing, of unspoken desire, finally spilling out. It’s nothing like you had imagined. No fireworks. No grand, sweeping declarations. It’s tender. It’s soft. But it’s everything. It’s an unspoken conversation between the two of you. An acknowledgment of everything that’s been left unsaid, of the quiet trust between you. Of how, despite everything— despite his professional walls, despite the stakes of your job— he’s letting you in.

The way he holds you so carefully, like you’re something precious. The way his lips move against yours, as though asking for permission, as though he doesn’t want to take anything from you— just offer it.

His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw, a touch so intimate, it feels like a promise. The kiss deepens just slightly, but there’s no rush. It’s everything you’ve wanted without either of you saying a word.

You pull away slowly, forehead resting against his absorbing the intimacy of the moment.

“Wow,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can even think about them.

Aaron chuckles softly, a quiet sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With a final, tender smile, he leans in to kiss your forehead, a gesture so intimate it almost feels like a promise. He steps back slowly, eyes holding yours as if making sure you know he’s leaving, but he’s not really leaving.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, voice hoarse.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you smile, the dreaminess of the moment filling you up, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your skin.

As you close the door behind you, you lean back against it, your hand resting for a moment on the handle. Your heart is still racing. You hadn’t expected a kiss like that—gentle, sweet, full of promise. But as you sink back against the door, a soft, satisfied smile tugs at your lips.

It had been worth the wait.

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fluff

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verdantchan · 4 hours ago

Text

Always You

Pairing: Best friend! Bangchan x Afab! Reader

Summary: It’s hard to enjoy a party when your best friend who you’ve been in love with for years turns up with his girlfriend…

Warnings: MDNI, dom!chan, sub!reader, possessive!chan, unprotected sex (don’t be like them) dirty talk, cum eating, multiple orgasms (f!rec) fingering (f!rec) mentions of mastubation, spitting (chan spits on it yk..) tummy bulge, creampie

Wc: 2.7k

a/n: did I write and edit it this in one sitting? yes I did,,, is this also my return to writing fics after 5 years bc I’m so attracted to chan idk what to do?? Also yes 🤪

‘‘Lixieee watch my drink, I nearly dropped it’’ You roll your eyes and smile at Felix as he practically jumps on you. His parties were always rowdy, especially when Jisung wormed his way into the planning. Colourful lights strewn around every pillar and doorway, countless bottles and cheesy red cups littering the granite countertops in the dorm kitchen, the air thick with smoke and the sickly sweet scent of liquor.

Part of you loved how committed the boys were to throwing the most stereotypical frat parties, the perfect way to unwind from the stress of uni life. You scan the room for that all too familiar face but find no sign of him, your shoulders dropping slightly, the disappointment in your chest too strong to ignore.

You and Chan had been best friends since you were 12, your parents pushing you together as an unlikely duo. You'd immediately become inseparable,spending every second with each other. People had always questioned your relationship, everyone thought you must be dating if you were so close, but you and Chan were just friends, at least that's what you convinced yourself it had to be.

You first started having feelings for Chan at 18, you were university freshmen starting the next big chapter of your lives together and you couldn't get him out of your head. His deep brown eyes that sparkled when he spoke about the things he loved, his soft curly black hair that you loved ruffling to annoy him and his dimples that became impossibly deep when he smiled. Being around him was both torture and comfort. Three years later and you were still completely in love with someone who views you as his best friend, nothing more. In other words, you're utterly fucked.

‘’Lix, have you seen Chan tonight? I thought he was coming’’ Felix still clinging to you in his tipsy state. His messy blonde hair slightly covering his eyes and freckle-dotted cheeks, a pink blush dusting his skin thanks to the many drinks he’d already knocked back.

‘’Nah not yet, he said he's coming later after his date’’ he slurs his words a little, all giggly and happy, not knowing the ache his words cause you. You hum in response, suddenly feeling less sociable than a few minutes ago.

‘’Ahhhhh speak of the devil’’ Felix laughs and nods toward the doorway, Chan's broad shoulders making it look tiny. His hand interlocked with hers, observing the room and briefly locking eyes with you before looking away.

Chan had been dating Euna for a few months, but it never got easier seeing them together.

They'd met in one of your classes, Euna was sweet, pretty and very popular with both the students and teachers. It hadn’t taken Chan too long to fall for her and spend less and less time with you. He swore nothing had changed between you two but you knew better. It wasn't long after they started dating that Chan began cancelling your plans because ‘Euna planned something’ or he ‘just couldn't make it that day’ You wanted to believe that it would all go back to the way it was soon enough but that day never came, Chan drifting further as time passed.

You missed his smile, the way he would make you laugh, the way he would bring you your favourite food when you were tired or upset. You thought that maybe one day you would be together, that Chan would see you as more than just his best friend. Sometimes it felt like more between you two.

He and Euna weave their way through the crowd, her trailing slightly behind, Chan looking back at her every so often with a smile, the sight of them making you nauseous though you wish it didn't. Chan lets go of her to pull Felix into a hug, Euna eyeing you awkwardly as the two of them catch up. Euna had never been rude to you, never made a snarky comment about you being friends with Chan, but she never really said much around you if you were honest.

‘’Your dress is super pretty’’ you squeak out attempting to break the silence between you two, She offers up a small thank you and a tight smile and turns to Chan as he pulls her into his side, his attention now on the two of you instead of the tipsy blonde Aussie

‘’Hey y/n’’ Chan smiles as he lets go of Euna and pulls you into a quick side hug, letting go as quickly as he’d pulled you in, his soft musky scent filling your senses. The four of you make small talk, Chan's eyes catching your own as Felix rambles to Euna about his current pc build. The air starts to feel suffocating, his glances making you feel trapped. You quickly make an excuse to leave, Chan's smile faltering as you excuse yourself from their conversation and disappear into the crowd of bodies.

It was impossible to think while Chan was standing there, his arms wrapped around Euna unapologetically. The jealousy burning more than the straight tequila sloshing around in your cup, you start to sway to the music begging yourself to forget about him and enjoy your night. You feel a pair of eyes follow your silhouette but you continue to drink and dance, the alcohol making its way through your system and drowning out every thought.

You feel a figure behind you grabbing your hips and swaying with you, turning your head to see the blurred outline of Hyunjin, his hair in his eyes, a pair of red sunglasses perched on his nose. You let yourself melt into him, you'd always found him attractive anyway. You and Hyunjin move together perfectly, his smooth movements guiding your own as he whispers the lyrics to the song in your ear, his plump lips catching your skin slightly. You finally move your eyes to Chan still feeling someone watching you, secretly wishing it was him. You’re met with a sharp glare, his eyes never leaving you and Hyunjin, his jaw locked in annoyance, you roll your eyes at him and turn around to face Hyunjin winding your arms around his slender neck.

You turn back to glance at Chan to find him charging your way, ripping you from your dance partner's embrace and towards the stairwell.

‘’Chan what the fuck are you doing?’’ you yell, trying to wriggle your wrist from his strong grip as he pulls you upstairs and into one of the empty bedrooms.

‘’What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing y/n? Grinding all over Hyunjin like that’’

‘’We are not doing this right now, why does it have anything to do with you, Chan? Why do you even care?’’ venom coating your words, attempting to open the door and leave but being stopped short when he stands in the way, eyes burning into yours. Chan had never been like this with you, what had gotten into him?

‘’What? Are you suddenly into Hyunjin?? We both know he's not right for you y/n’’ his eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

‘’And how would you know what's best for me Chan? We hardly talk anymore!’’ you run your fingers through your hair, easing the tension building up behind your eyes.

‘’Of course we still talk, you know i've been busy’’ he fires back, disregarding how much space really had built up between the two of you.

’Give it up Chan and go back to Euna, what I do with Hyunjin has fuck all to do with you’’ you can't deal with the confusion, why is he acting like he's jealous of you and Hyunjin? Why does it matter to him?

‘’’I’m your best friend y/n of course it has something to do with me, he's not right for you’’

‘’Oh my god get your head out of your ass chan, just like you said, you're my best friend not my boyfriend. You can date but I can't? I'm not gonna wait on you to notice me for the rest of my life’’ You turn your face away from him, your confidence and fire slipping as Chan studies you intensely, the room silent apart from your breathing.

‘’My god you’re an idiot’’ Chan mumbles before grabbing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours, you melt into the kiss at first before snapping out of it and pushing him away

Chan what are you doing?’’ You feel dizzy as you maintain your balance, your hands still pressed against his toned chest. your lungs heaving in time with the thud of the music coming from below.

‘’You really have no idea, do you? I’m fucking in love with you y/n, why do you think I even started dating Euna in the first place, I wanted to get over you, why else would I jump into a relationship with a girl I hardly knew??’’ The annoyance in his voice evident as he goes on, he runs his hand through his hair repeatedly, messy waves falling in his face.

You stare up at him stunned, your lips parted in surprise, he pulls you back in, his lips covering yours as he presses you into him with fervour. He deepens the kiss and walks you backwards, his hands pressing into your hips, his hold nothing like hyunjins. He pulls away his eyes searching yours for something, anything.

“Tell me to stop, if you don't want this I’ll walk away” his voice is breathy and pained, evident that the last thing he wanted was for you to say now.

You've waited too long for this, for him to need you, touch you. You know it's wrong, his girlfriend just a floor below but you’ve wanted and waited too much to stop and walk away, you can deal with your moral shortcomings tomorrow.

‘’Please, Chan’’ you whisper, desperate for him to touch you again, clenching your thighs together as heat pools in your lower stomach, your insides on fire for him. He watches how desperate you are for him, your answer clear.

‘’Fuck you’re perfect’’ you look at him pleadingly and he can't hold back anymore, he’d thought about you like this too many times to count, in dreams and when awake. When he can't sleep and he fucks his fist wishing it was you, how pretty your moans would sound as he rocked into you, how tight you'd be around him, how his cum would leak out of your fluttering hole. He was too far gone, a man possessed.

You gasp as he pushes you back on the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress perfectly, he licks and nips at your jaw, his hand finding your soaked underwear under your skirt, circling your puffy clit through the slick fabric.

“You’re so wet for me baby, bet Hyunjin could never have this effect on you. Gonna fuck you so good you'll forget he exists’’ his words making you tingle, his fingers exactly where you need them.

‘’Only want you’’ Your voice comes out breathy and fucked out even though he’s barely touched you and it sends a rush of blood to Chan's already rock-solid cock, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans.

He sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you scream in pleasure and pain at the intrusion, his fingers so much thicker and longer than yours, the stretch taking your breath away

‘’Yeah be a good girl and take my fingers in that tight little cunt, I know you can’’ The way he whispers as your pussy stretches around his fingers and wet squelches echo through the room has you throwing your head back, Chans other hand finding your tits as he stretches you out for him. You shake as he moves his fingers in and out of you, the stretch now dissolved into intense pleasure. He can tell you're close, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh out his name.

‘’cum for me pretty, cum around my fingers’’ You moan his name over and over as he rubs your soaking clit and plunges his fingers into your sopping hole, your back arching in pleasure as he works you through your high. Shouting his name as you cum on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. The sight alone already making you needy for more

‘’Need you so bad baby, need to feel you milk my cock’’ he breathes out as he undoes his belt, desperate to be inside of you. You spread your sticky thighs, your glistening pussy on full display for him. His cock springs free from its confines, his pink tip leaking down onto the rest of his thick veiny length. It was no surprise he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. He gives it a few pumps, slapping your clit with his bulbous tip, and you moan in pleasure at the sting.

‘’Take it, baby. Gonna stretch you out so good, gonna make you mine’’ his voice shaky as he presses into you, your pussy spasming around his hard length splitting you open, he slowly bottoms out with a moan stilling inside you. His cock making your stomach bulge with his size

‘’Fuckfuckfuckkkk you're still so tight, such a perfect pussy’’ his words coming out more like a mantra, the feeling of you around him making him pussydrunk. He fucks in and out of you grabbing your thighs, spreading you wider for him, watching where you’re joined as he takes you.

‘’talk to me baby girl, tell me how I make you feel’’

‘’Love it when you fuck me Channie, love your cock so much’’ your voice strained and whiny, writhing against the sheets as he sets a rough pace. He spits on your pussy, the liquid dripping down to where you meet, the sight only aiding his pleasure.

‘’Bet you thought about this huh? Thought about how good it would feel when I ruin you, hmm baby? Bet you’d touch this little clit thinking about how good I would fuck you?’’ His thrusts become sloppy as he nears his orgasm, his fingers coming to circle your clit. Your moans getting louder as you get close for the second time.

‘’Cum with me baby, wanna cum in this pussy, fill you up with my cum’’ his thrusts getting more erratic and desperate as you orgasm together. You scream his name, your nails digging into his toned back muscles. Chan stills as he spurts his hot release into you, his cum painting your insides a milky white. He collapses onto you, his muscled chest pressed against your fucked out form, both of you breathing heavily.

‘’Fuck you're mine, just mine’’ he whispers, his cock still inside you, both your release leaking out around his still hard dick..

‘’Yeah just yours, Channie’’ you breathe out dreamily, still coming down from your high

You both lay like that for a while, Chan's face tucked into your neck, leaving gentle kisses, his cock stiffening again inside of you, the party coming to an end downstairs. Things had happened so fast you hadn't realised Chan brought you to his own room, the purple lights giving his skin a lilac hue.

‘’Chan. What happens now?” You hesitate not wanting to ruin the moment, praying you didn't just fuck everything up with him with a simple question.

He sighs into your skin snuggling closer ‘’I meant it when I said you're mine y/n, Euna knows she and I are done, she knew I was in love with you. I want this, I want you’’ his voice soft and sleepy.

Your heart nearly explodes, ‘’I love you too Chan, I want you too’’ you kiss him passionately, his tongue fighting yours for dominance, smiling into the kiss as he begins moving inside you again. It feels like a dream and you can't believe he's in love with you too, that he wants you like you want him. Now you have him you'll never let him go, you have always been his, even if he didn't know it.

‘’It's always been you y/n’’

-ty for reading!! Alr working on more hehe

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dooberific · 2 days ago

Note

Hello~! I love reading your work so much hehe, I'm not entirely sure if you are open for requests so please disregard if you aren't. Can I request Harumasa and reader that they first met in the hospital as kids due to having the same disease and once they were discharged they simply forgot about eachother. Then one day, they met again (pure coincidence) and had a happy reunion. Maybe throw a childhood friends to lovers, fluff hehe. Thank you!

Subjecting reader to Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome is a more popular thought than I anticipated.

Still working on other requests as I have time, it took me way too long to do this but in my defense I’m back in the dregs of Uni.

❝ 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: slice of life ig?? Reads pretty platonically imo, runs vaguely parallel to his agent story largely without reader interference (we keep it as canon as we can). Reader has ether aptitude regression syndrome.

summary: He didn't think ghosts from the past were so bright or so loud as the one that finds him at Port Elpis.

wc: 4.8k

Port Elpis was a lonely place.

But that was just his opinion on the matter.

Maybe in the eyes of the children that sat joyfully chattering next to their grandfather as they fished off the pier it would be a place full of happy memories, or the perfect backdrop for a romantic encounter for the lovers who walked wistfully along the seaside.

But he had neither a family nor a lover to enjoy such memories with, and with his frail body perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. “To live with no regrets” felt like an honorable way to go. There would be no one deeply hurt by his loss, no one to leave flowers at his grave, and just as briefly as his time was slated to be on the earth the memory of his existence would fade into nothingness.

So he would quietly enjoy his solitude, savor the time like it was sweet on his tongue, and pretend for just a moment that life wasn’t as abbreviated as fate demanded it to be by capturing it through the immortal lens of his camera.

The birds that floated in the sea breeze. Patterns of stone left in the sand by a previous visitor. The view from the top of the lighthouse. Colorful boats bobbing in the sea. The lights over the water at night.

The scenery rarely changed but that didn’t matter, it was an excuse to feel the warm kiss of the sun on his skin and feel the whisper of the sea air tickle his weakened lungs, to pretend that once he returned to the quiet of his apartment that every image he took wouldn’t be doused in a deep greytone as if some secret melancholy bared its teeth and drained his day of its vitality.

He still got the images developed but he stopped looking at them. They felt too much like having one foot in the grave, the hazy discoloration something he associated more with the burning dread that buzzed in his veins and prickled at his eyes when the ether became too overwhelming. He could save himself the money and the effort, stop taking photos he would never want to look at again, but it was never so peaceful for his troubled mind in any other place.

The sky was overcast, heavy clouds threatening to rain their contents down upon the world as the wind nipped viciously at his skin. The normal residents of the Port were nowhere to be seen, all the buildings neatly closed in the anticipation of inclement weather.

He could have taken it as a sign to make himself scarce as well, return home and curl up on his couch while the weather passed and not risk catching a cold, but if his day was meant to be spent in dreary solitude he would rather take the moment to feel it against his skin than hide away with no company other than his own thoughts.

Being soaked to the bone and riding the high of his careless actions would be a better fate than sitting with his thoughts that seemed more heavily laden with dread as the days passed.

So he stayed.

He stayed as his hair matted to his skin, heavy with rainwater that soaked through his clothes and stained his camera lens. His camera would be ruined for sure, it wasn’t waterproof after all, but he could buy a new one. He wasn’t good at saving money for a long time anyways.

The pictures would be terrible and blurry, all doused in their own dreary grey even as he continued to take photos. There was no warmth to be found in the once pleasant landscape, and he was prepared to give up all hope for salvaging his mood which was now as waterlogged as his sneakers before a vibrant color flashed to life across his streaked lens.

He lowered his camera, squinting into the onslaught of rain that rolled the waves viciously against the pier. It was an unfamiliar boat bobbing on the waves, outriggers neatly folded to attention. The vessel itself lacked any colorful ornamentation, the flash of color he had seen belonging instead to the figure that worked diligently on the deck.

A bright orange pair of overalls.

He wasn’t expecting to see the boat again the next time he returned to the Port, but there sat the trawler at the end of the pier accompanied by orange overalls. He could put a face to the choice of colorful outerwear now, or the beginnings of one from where he stood. He had no reason to get closer, he wasn’t on particularly warm terms with anyone at the Port, so it took him by surprise when your face appeared so suddenly within the viewfinder one day.

“Excuse me?”

He startled, quickly dropping his camera from where he held it.

Orange overalls.

“Have we met before?”

The question was innocent as it rolled from your lips, the rubbery exterior of your overalls squeaking as you shifted on your feet. Your gaze was intense but non threatening, more brimming with curiosity than anything as you studied his features closely.

“Sorry if it’s sudden,” your laugh was awkward. “I’ve just seen you around here a lot and couldn’t shake the feeling.”

There was no need for you to apologize, he had also been struck with an uncanny sense of recognition the longer he looked at you as well.

“I get that a lot.”

Your question was genuine but he couldn’t help the lie that pushed past his teeth. It was rare for him to be mistaken for someone else, especially when he was in the city. If you detected his deception you didn’t show it, clicking your tongue thoughtfully as you pointed at him.

“Middle school?”

Oh, so you were still convinced you had met before.

He shook his head. “No.”

“University?”

“Nope.”

“The grocery store?”

“You remember everyone you see at a grocery store?”

Your brow furrowed. “Guess not.”

He was confounding you at every turn it seemed, but the nagging feeling of familiarity had yet to leave. You had grown quiet, gnawing your lip thoughtfully.

Your fingers snapped suddenly. “I’ve got it, were you… in the hospital for a while as a kid?”

“I was.”

Before you answered a distant call floated over the waves. He couldn’t make out the words but your head quickly whipped around, arm raising above your head with a dramatic wave.

“I’m coming!” You yelled back before shooting him an apologetic grin. “Sorry for bothering you, I guess I’ll see you around.”

He watched your figure recede down the pier, the thumping of your boots on the wood fading as you rapidly went out of earshot.

Your next interactions were cyclic, short conversations with speedy exits as you would run back to your boat. He had some inclination to believe you had a homing beacon centered on him, as you managed to find him despite his frequent location changes, beaming at him with the same warm expression that nearly rivaled the brightness of your orange overalls.

You never mentioned your first conversation again nor asked his name, instead asking him random questions as they seemed to strike your fancy. About his favorite food, his favorite color, movie recommendations, if he had any pets, what he liked taking pictures of so much that he returned almost daily. It was largely nonsensical, and he found you harder to read with each passing day because your eyes seemed to sparkle as if the tiny bits of knowledge he divulged had painted some elaborate picture of him in your mind.

Even with you sharing little tidbits of your own monotonous life you had tied his mind into intricate knots. Your father was a fisherman, more precisely a shrimper you had proudly proclaimed as you undid the straps of your overalls to show him the pink shrimp decal on the back of your sweatshirt. You never mentioned a mother or any siblings, nor any friends. You liked to swim but couldn’t do it often. Your favorite color was a very precise shade of pink, and you liked to read books about personality types and astrology when you weren’t busy. Mindless details that gushed from your mouth with absurd passion.

Somedays he wasn’t sure if it was the sun or your vivacious personality that warmed him more, your happy-go-lucky mood infectious as you chattered away. You were quickly becoming part of his routine, strolling alongside him spewing silly facts about sea animals or begging him for little details on his day.

Your characteristic orange overalls had been featured in some of his photography as well, cheerfully adding a splash of color to even the dreariest backdrops. You made shrimp nets look pleasant and the creatures even more so as you ran up to him, pulling one from your pocket as you waved it at him like a child with a centipede just to sneak it into his own pocket before he left.

For once everything seemed dripping with color, the thrill of seeing your glowing visage as you waved at him from the deck of your father’s boat turning his stomach in a pleasantly warm manner.

He broke his own rule. He got comfortable with someone else, comfortable in his limited time, in his own skin, and he missed the little signs until it was glaring in his face.

The sun was warm enough that the sound of the waves was nearly sufficient to lull him to sleep as he sat dangling his legs off the pier, the water teasing his soles in a silent ploy to drench his socks. The day was quiet, almost uncomfortably so and he wasn’t sure why. Port Elpis was always lively when the weather was pleasant, but there was a nagging sense of unease that drew his lips into a firm line.

You weren’t around.

He felt silly. The two of you weren’t close by any means, acquaintances more than friends. There was no reason to miss you, you were nothing but a loud disruption to his day. He didn’t even know your name.

But if that was really all you were to him he shouldn’t have felt his gut twist unpleasantly when he realized your absence, nor when he finally saw you and realized you didn’t look well.

You looked haggard and pale, movements sluggish as if it demanded too much energy to fully pick up your feet. There was a constant grimace painted across your face, like each movement was laced with pain. You scarcely looked his way as you approached, eyes sunken.

“Oh, hey,” you spoke through gritted teeth as your eyes wavered weakly. Even now you did your best to wave, hands trembling fiercely. “I can’t hang out today, sorry.”

“You’re sick.”

It was a matter-of-fact statement, no longer an observation. He would recognize that look anywhere, he had seen it a thousand times growing up.

“Were you… in the hospital for a while as a kid?”

He shouldn’t have been thoughtless. It was out of character for him to not pry into every tiny detail of the life of a stranger that had so unceremoniously pushed into his life, like a flower sprouting from a sidewalk crack. With a little effort he was sure he would have unearthed a medical history as extensive as his own, all starting from the same place with a name he tried desperately to forget.

He rubbed the choker at his neck. He’d never seen your nape either, strategically covered by the hood of your jacket or a high necked top. He’d never questioned you on the days when you lied poorly to his face about why you had a limp, or why you looked so tired, always claiming it had been a long day and nothing more.

Some highly trained intelligence officer he turned out to be.

“Let me help you.” The words came out faster than his body moved, swinging his legs back up onto the pier.

“It’s okay.” You reassured, weakly attempting to wave him off. “It’s not that serious, I’m just tired.”

“Tired my ass, you’re sick.” He hissed. “This isn’t something you can play around with, now let me help you.”

You were lighter than he thought you were, but maybe he had anticipated more muscle to be hidden under the frumpy layers you wore daily. You smelled like a fishing boat but not in a way he found unpleasant, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carried you down the pier on his back. He could feel your body trembling.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered regretfully, forehead pressed against his shoulder as he stepped off the pier and onto your boat, his step wavering for just a moment before he regained his balance.

“Stop apologizing.” He chided as you directed him to where your room was under the deck. The space was awkward to navigate with you on his back, but if he experienced any difficulty he didn’t verbalize it, dutifully depositing you on your unmade bed.

“I really am sorry though.” He wouldn’t be able to convince you it was fine, but he would be able to shoot you a disapproving look as he grabbed the heel of your boot and slid it off before giving the other the same treatment.

You frowned, shifting as if you were uncomfortable in your own skin. “I’ve bothered you on your time off.”

“You’ve never bothered me.”

He tugged on the leg of your overalls, he would have to commend you on your dedication. As if interpreting his cue you unlatched the shoulder straps, allowing him to help you slide them off before he discarded them on top of your boots. At least you dressed comfortably beneath them, though he would let the ridiculous sparkly fish patches on your sweats go this time.

He tossed your comforter over your head. “But you will bother me if you don’t rest.”

You didn’t protest, flipping the fabric off your face with a huff. You knew he was right.

“Hurry up and get better, I’m not going to wait forever.” He said curtly as he stepped into the hallway, pulling your door shut behind him.

“Wait!”

He paused, the door hanging ajar. “What is it?”

You swallowed thickly, tongue fuzzy. “(Y/n). My name is (y/n).”

His hand tightened on the doorknob.

“Harumasa.”

The door shut, but Pandora’s theoretical box had already been opened.

He remembered you.

They called you the luckiest unlucky child in the world. It was a ridiculous name that you seethed at because you found nothing of your situation lucky. Your mother had claimed the record for longest lived patient with Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome, but such distinction meant very little when your father stood over her grave cradling you in his arms.

Within a few years you would look just like her, idle in a hospital bed with numerous lines running from your thin, veiny arms as they kept you so sedate the childish glow in your eyes had faded into a drug induced stupor.

You were lucky to be born, and unlucky enough to survive.

Most days were good, you were strong and vital as if the ugly veins of your illness didn’t lurk just below the skin. You ran through the halls, constantly attempted to escape to the lush yard of the hospital, sat with the other kids after they got out of surgery to give them offerings of crude crayon drawings and wild stories of swimming in the ocean and the creatures within it.

But your bad days were palpable, the halls silent without you there to fill the air with wild stories and laughter. No one visited you when you had a flare up, tears and snot streaking your face as you silently cried through the pain that ignited every nerve ending in your body in such a way that even the act of breathing hurt in a near unbearable manner.

Your father would sit in your room for hours at a time in those moments, anxious over your worsening condition up until the moment they barred him from seeing you. Before the week was over he had a court order that relinquished you of their care and returned you to him.

The day you left, Harumasa had resigned himself to the fact that he would never see you again. The likelihood of either of you surviving childhood was slim enough, but to dream of meeting in a place outside the walls of the hospital was an idea even he didn’t dare consider.

Seeing you now, seeing you grown, was almost enough to make him believe some good deity watched over the world and deemed you too kind to die young.

He would have to find a new place to seek solace, Port Elpis was becoming something dangerously close to the memories he sought to repress, but his body acted on autopilot and brought him back every day without fail.

One week turned into two, and just as the third was cresting you reappeared with a smile on your face.

You were stupid to take your health so lightly.

He was stupid to let himself become invested.

“I remember you!” Were the first words you said after reuniting with him, swinging your legs off the pier as you sat so close beside him your shoulders pressed together.

“It’s just been a few weeks, I’d be concerned if you didn’t.”

You pouted, elbowing his side. “You know that’s not what I mean. I remember you from before, from the hospital.”

“Looks like we both grew up well, huh? But I guess you did better than me. Is it creepy to admit that I searched your name on the InterKnot?” If you were truly embarrassed it failed to show, a low whistle passing your lips. “Section 6, you went and became a real bigshot.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

You swung your head low, teetering dangerously on the edge of the pier as you jutted your face into his line of sight. Your eyes sparkled with the same mirth that curled the corners of your lips. “Says the guy that doesn’t work on a shrimp boat. Take the compliment, even I’m proud of how far you came.”

You kicked at his ankle. “Not many of us have the chance to say that.”

Ah. There you went again, reminding him of a twisted past he couldn’t shake. Sure, his therapist thought it would do him good to confront the ghosts of his childhood, but he liked to disagree (if him promptly claiming he was “done with therapy” and “thanks for your time, doc” before walking out and never returning their calls had anything to say about it). There were too many things he wasn’t ready to face head-on, even if they crawled from the pits of despair and grasped at his ankles so fiercely that the thought alone slowed him down.

But it did stir back the embers that burned his gut with unease from an interaction he had not that far in the past.

“Has anyone from the hospital tried to contact you recently?”

“Well yeah, they are all worried about my condition after my flare up.”

“Not that hospital.” He clarified. “The old one.”

Your eyes danced across the scenery for a moment, lips pursed in thought before you shook your head. “Nope, not that I can remember. Why?”

He left out a relieved sigh, shoulders slouching momentarily. He still wasn’t sure what his Master’s assistant wanted, or why he suddenly appeared before him now trying to toy with his feelings using other sick children as emotional leverage, but at least he hadn’t found you yet. He fished his phone from his pocket, unlocking it as he handed it to you.

“Put your number in there. There’s no reason for us to be strangers.”

He was blatantly evasive, and you could certainly tell but you didn’t raise any qualms as you typed in your phone number. “Signal is spotty when we go out of the Port, so if I don’t answer quickly don’t get all worried thinking I got kidnapped or died or something.” You warned as you passed his phone back before puffing out your chest proudly. “I like to think I’ve still got a few good years in me.”

His smile when he looked at you was so sincere you nearly toppled off the pier in shock, one hand quickly planting against his cheek as you forcefully turned his head away while the other gripped the fabric of your shirt over your heart.

“Those interknot forums weren’t kidding,” your tone was distressed as you looked away from him, “your smile really is a deadly weapon.”

He laughed. He laughed at you, at the absurd way you managed to turn a rapidly darkening conversation into something ridiculous and sugary sweet. It was as novel as a syrupy popsicle on a hot day, the aghast and shy way you—the natural enemy of public embarrassment—had now turned.

It was bright, vital, blooming with a color he didn’t think he could find in the world anymore.

Then it all grew violently dull.

[ Shrimp Girl ] Someone from the old hospital came to see me today

[ Shrimp Girl ] I think he said his name was Kirishima?

His stomach plummeted as he read your message in the wee hours of the morning, and it didn’t abate until he laid eyes on you working diligently at the Port a few hours later. The morning sun had yet to crest the horizon, the air hanging thick and grey with morning dew. You stood out like a traffic cone, bundled in a few extra layers to fend off the cold as you worked.

It was his hurried footsteps down the pier that alerted you to his presence, a smile on your face as you waved at him. “You’re here early. What’s with the serious face?”

The scent of the sea and the creatures you had skimmed out of the water was almost noxious to his sensitive nose. He was afraid he only tolerated the smell when it lingered on your clothes. His nose wrinkled as he nonchalantly lifted a hand to it as if it would help the smell abate.

“I just needed to make sure you were alright. What did Kirishima want?”

“Nothing.” You said with a shrug. “He didn’t ask for anything, just the usual small talk you get from doctors. You know, “can’t believe you made it this long” and “you look great”, stuff like that.”

He was beginning to question your survival instincts, anxiety bubbling in his gut. Kirishima may not have shown his true colors yet, but it was suspicious that he showed up looking for you after years of radio silence. His own personal connection to Kirishima made it less surprising, but his link to you was still vague and incomplete.

“Now that I think about it, he did mention that he’s working on some new drug, said he might open a trial for it soon.”

His blood ran cold, a hand quickly wrapping around your wrist. The serious expression he wore was new for you, his features usually relaxed when you ran into him.

“Please don’t take anything he gives you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling his fingers firm against your pulse.

“I’m going to be busy for a few days, so don’t look for me.” His grip faltered, slipping from your wrist to hook around the crook of your fingers. They were cold, not unlike his own.

He didn’t owe you an explanation or some promise of a timeline. He could walk away from the Port and never turn back, find out what Kirishima wanted and pretend seeing a ghost from his past never occurred, but seeing the concern that knitted your brows at his words was enough to make him regret the sharpened tone he had used. He toyed with your fingers.

“I’ll buy you a nice meal when I get back, so don’t get worked up thinking I’m never returning or something.”

You hooked his pinky around your own.

“I’ll hold you to it then.”

He was grateful your boat wasn’t in the Port the day he separated the children from Kirishima, something about the idea of you being far away from that place coming as a welcome relief. The kids would have liked you, loved you even. While he could put on a brave face and lie through his teeth you were so charmingly real that he had little doubt you would have been an inspiration, but you were too soft and there were too many hands yet to be revealed.

You would have been another worry to plague his mind, and with the Proxy breathing down his neck it would have been hard to focus on navigating the current mess he found himself in.

It was a mess indeed, like watching a carefully crafted tower crumble as the top became unsteady, unraveling in a glorious display of dust and ruin. He knew it would be the case before he agreed to meet Kirishima at the Port to look for where his Master hid his research, but he wasn’t expecting to see you there.

Maybe he should have expected it, you had seemed anxious at his curt communication over the past weeks while he gathering what information he could before an inevitable confrontation with his Master’s assistant. Maybe he should have expected whatever ugly connection with Kirishima that was woven into your past to rear its head at some point.

Your expression was harsh, the edges of a bandage showing around the sides of your neck. There was a vial in your hand, your knuckles white from how tightly you gripped it.

“I did what you asked, now back off.” You hissed between your teeth as you tossed the vial at Kirishima, the man laughing as he caught it with infuriating ease.

He flipped the vial up to the light filtering from the industrial fixtures that shined from the shipping containers, a clear and colorless fluid washing within. Spinal fluid.

“I knew you would come around to my way of thinking. Why don’t you join us for a moment, an extra pair of eyes might be useful.”

Your gaze wavered to the blackened edges of the hollow behind him, taking a half step back as you shook your head.

“Come on now, don’t tell me you’re—,”

Harumasa’s hand was heavy on his shoulder, Kirishima pausing just to glance back at his guarded expression, eyes flickering back to you for a brief instance as a impish grin tugged at his lips.

“Fine, I guess it can’t be helped.” He fished in his labcoat pocket, producing a folded stack of papers before he tossed them at your feet, the papers soaking instantly as they hit the wet pavement.

He waved the vial at you tauntingly before he pocketed it. “Thank you again for your service, the children will be so appreciative.”

Your guilt ridden expression was the last thing Harumasa recalled seeing as he stepped through the barrier of the Hollow, the Proxy hot on his trail.

He didn't see you for weeks, his condition too fragile in the wake of the high ether levels he subjected himself to in the hollow. Whether it be Section 6, the proxy, or even the kids from the sanatorium it was hard to find a moment of quiet, though he couldn’t deny that it was a welcome change from his normal solitude.

Everything had quietly pieced itself together. His master’s ultimate purpose with his research, Kirishima being prosecuted for his crimes, the children being given another chance at having a childhood instead of existing as human experiments.

It felt…nice for once, the sun comforting on his skin as the sea breeze toyed with the tails of his headband. Everyone had long gone home, leaving him in silence once again. His eyes fluttered shut under the intensity of the setting sun, his lungs filling with salt-laden air as the inside of his eyelids stained a brilliant orange.

Orange.

Like the color of your ridiculous overalls, or of the novelty candy you insisted he try with you. Orange like the canned drinks you were fond of when you decided to treat him and yourself to a greasy snack from the stand back at the parking lot. The color of your nails when you decided to paint them on your day off, proudly waving them in front of his face. The same orange of your swimsuit the day you shucked off your normal wear and dove off the pier into the frigid water. You actually were a strong swimmer when your body wasn’t trying to destroy itself thanks to your shared disease.

Orange like the stripe painted on the side of the shrimp trawler that drifted by in the distance when he reopened his eyes, a hand raising to shield them from the harsh rays of the setting sun.

“Ahoy there!” You shouted through cupped hands. He couldn’t see your face from where he stood squinting into the light, but he knew you were smiling, framed in a halo of vibrant orange.

"I'm ready to cash in on that meal you owe me!"

Port Elpis was a lonely place.

Was is the real curiosity if you asked him.