#I’m doing a stay in movie day because it is rainy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muniimyg · 5 months

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3: the favourite snacks // series m.list

note: ohhh... it's kinda cute here ;) how are we liking them? lmk ur thoughts! oc's moment to shine is coming soon !!!

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

fic taglist: @seagulljk @peterstarkchrishiddleston @thekookiecorner @kyjjk @bbtsficrecs @rainypainting @skzthinker @lachimolalajeon @wildflower98 @bluesoulsoul @loumin908 @jk-190811 @survivalistghost

As usual, Jungkook interrupts your reading time. Before, it didn’t mean much. Before, he would quietly sit beside you and mind his own business until he got out of his mind bored. Then, he would bug you and you would have no choice but to put your book down. You didn't mind it before. Before, it was whatever.

However, the scene is different today.

Today, he ran to the library after his lecture and couldn’t find you. Disappointed, Jungkook turned his heels to head home… But as fate would have it; he found you along the way.

At the sight of you, right then and there, Jungkook decided that this was his favourite season.

The season of you.

How could it not be when this… You… Are just so beautiful? As you sit on the grass, leaning against the tree trunk, the wind gently blows cherry blossom petals around you. It’s beautiful. It looks magical.. Like it was fake. I mean, it had to be right? You look so perfect. It looks like those made-up scenes in movies. Jungkook rubs his eyes to make sure it isn’t. This is real life.

This is you.

However, his dream-like state of mind is shaken awake when he approaches you, and you refuse to give him the time of day.

First, he stands in front of you and greets you warmly. You ignore him. Then, he sits down beside you and nudges you. Even though your body moves to his push, you still remain silent. Now, this is his last attempt before he loses his mind.

Jungkook inches closer to you. You sit still, doing your best not to move away. You have to stay put. You have to stand your ground! But life gets 10 times more difficult because he smells so good. As he leans forward, he fixes your hair, and you're awestruck. He tucks your hair behind your ear, sending chills down your spine. You swear it’s just the cool breeze, but you know in your heart it’s him.

He makes your heart race.

He smells good.

He looks good, too.

It's no wonder your body betrays you. You squirm from his touch, unable to hold yourself still. It’s gentle and light—but it’s just so ticklish! As you react, Jungkook offers a smug smile. In return, you push his hand away and huff at him.

“I’m not talking to you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops.

“What? Why?” His mind spins with confusion. Meanwhile, you keep a straight face and go back to reading. “What did I do?”

Keeping your book up, you answer him without really answering him.

“You know what you did.”

Jungkook thinks for a moment. What could he have done? The last time he saw you was a few days ago. You two met up to have a quick study session together. It was the same routine! What could he have done wrong since then? Rather, what did he do wrong then?

“... I’m not really sure what I did wrong… Can I have a hint or something?” His tone is genuine and curious, making it harder for you to dish-out your anger.

So, you don’t respond.

Impatient and annoyed at your pettiness, he grabs your book and lowers it to see your face.

Infuriated, you whine. “Hey! I’m reading—”

“—And I’m trying to talk to you.” Jungkook snaps. "Come on, ___. What's going on? Talk to me, please."

You glare at him, completely baffled at his audacity. Does he seriously think that he can play dumb? He can't. You won't let him.

“Well, I’m not talking to you.”

With an eyebrow raised, he speaks out his thoughts. “Why not? I don’t think I did anything wrong—”

“You lied to me!” You blurt. “You lied to me, and you know it. I looked so stupid!”

Jungkook’s throat feels dry.

Lied to you?

About what?

He tries to run everything he has ever said to you back. He tries to remember everything from the moment you two first met to this very moment now… Every story he has ever said and every tiny side comment—yet, he can’t think of a time he was dishonest. He had no reason to lie to you! Talking to you is so easy because you’re such a good listener. If anything, talking to you has compelled him to be more honest… Jungkook reflects and concludes: no. He is not a liar. Besides, it’s not like he was hiding anything—

“You can skate,” you reveal.

Jungkook blinks.

“Who told you?”

Fed up, you shove your book to Jungkook's chest. He lets it hit him and drop before reaching for your hands. Quickly, you swipe them away from him. No way is he holding your hand! Not after all the crap he just pulled.

Crossing your arms, you begin to confront him. “Yoongi and Jin were drinking last night. They called me and teased me about how dumb I was… How naive I was because you knew how to skate the entire time! I took the time to teach you how to skate because you kept falling—a-and to what? Find out you were pretending the entire time? W-why would you do that? Why would you lie to me?”

Oh, it’s bad.

It’s pathetically horrible how Jungkook is so into you right now.

It melts his heart how you could be this serious and hurt over this little fib. This has to be the cutest thing you could ever do… Be mad at him for wanting to hold your hand just because he was mischievous about it.

He wants to laugh. He wants to tell you that you’re cute and the entire thing was just a stupid boy-coded play… But, considering how bruise-hearted you’re acting… Jungkook thinks twice about it.

Then, he decides to give in and abide by your needs.

Answers.

You want answers and answers is what he’ll give you.

“First of all: you’re not dumb,” Jungkook reassures you. You make a sour face and shake your head at him.

Groaning, you tell him: “Yes, I am! I looked like a total idiot trying to teach you how to skate when you’re literally a hockey player—”

“Second, I’m not a hockey player,” he chuckles.

With a half smile, you return: “Right… You’re just a liar.”

Okay.

… He deserved that.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say or do… Honestly, what are you supposed to say or do? The issue is ridiculous but at the same time, he understands you feel deceived. So… now what?

Honesty.

“Okay… I admit it,” Jungkook sighs, accepting his defeat. “I lied to you about not knowing how to skate. I’m a liar. I’m sorry—”

“Ah ha!” you point your finger at him. Then, you poke his chest. “That's why I’m not talking to you—”

“But I’m apologizing—”

You shush him. “Doesn’t matter. At least, not right now. Like... Oh my goodness, Jungkook! I’m so embarrassed! It’s bad enough that—”

“—That I like you?” Jungkook interrupts you. You’re tongue-tied, unable to find words to deny or confirm. With shaky eyes, he does his best to look at you with the sincerest gaze. “I refuse to apologize for my feelings."

"It's not about your feelings—"

Jungkook plays smart. He's all in anyways. "Okay. Fine, it's not about my feelings. It's about yours, okay? ___, I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to hold your hand… Is it that bad? Am I that awful for wanting to hold your hand?”

Slowly, you shake your head. You didn't meant to make him feel bad about his feelings for you! That wasn't the point. The point was... Well..

Oh, god.

What was the point again?

Your words beat your thoughts. “N-no… I just… I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.”

Jungkook looks at you softly, and it makes your heart stumble. Booping your nose, his lips curve into a smirk.

“It’s called flirting, dummy.”

“Hmph,” you pout, turning your face away from him. Under your breath, you mutter, “... So you’re calling me dumb too, huh?”

Jungkook panics. “W-what? No! That’s not what I—”

Without much thought, he grabs your hand and squeezes it. You turn to him, eyeing the way he’s holding your hand. You send him a look, and immediately, he drops your hand and puts it up in surrender. Then, he reaches for his backpack and unzips it.

“Look! I know my apology doesn’t mean much to you right now, but it’s true. I am so sooo sorry, ___. I’ll deal with the guys. I’ll tell them to shut up and drop it. You’re not dumb—okay?” Jungkook digs inside his backpack and pulls out a plastic bag filled with various items. “Snacks! I was at the convenience store... Then, I suddenly thought of you. So, I bought your favourite snacks. Then I headed to the library but then you weren’t there… And now I’m here—a-and there’s so many! So many snacks, ___! There’s banana milk, some Yakult, and oh, I even bought that cup with the fancy ice—”

“... Is that pocky?” You shift, taking a small peek.

Jungkook’s eyes light up. He nods, shaking the bag in front of you. “Almond crush… Cos I have a crush on you—” You sit up and send him a warning look. Jungkook leans his body back and laughs. “Okay, okay, okay! Sorry! Almond crush is for me… The strawberry pocky is for you… Your favourite, cutie.”

Biting your bottom lip, you give in.

Your heart can refuse Jungkook, but it remains powerless against strawberry pocky. Jungkook takes out your strawberry pocky first. You’re drooling at this point… Before you can hold your hand out and ask for the pocky, Jungkook already opens it for you. When he successfully gets through the box and rips the wrapper, he offers the pocky to you as a peace offering.

Unspoken, he knows he’s forgiven the minute you take it from his hands.

Yet, he plays it safe. He waits for you to get a few bites in and for the smile on your face to appear. Once it does, he smiles cheekily at you.

“Still mad at me?”

Between chews, you reply, “Let me think..."

"Whatever you need to do, my smart girl."

You shove a few more pieces of pocky in your mouth. After you chew and he laughs at you, you voice your decision.

"Nope... Not mad at you anymore. We’re good.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he reaches for the top of your head. He ruffles your hair and continues to laugh to himself… Perhaps, it wasn’t just about the lie. You were hangry. Mentally, he notes to always keep strawberry pocky in his bag. In case of future screw-ups or of hangry ___ moments.

When he’s sure your mood has improved completely, he opens his pocky.

You watch as he does so. Jungkook takes a bite out of his pocky stick and moans in approval. As he eats, he takes a moment to look out at the view of the rest of the field. Jungkook takes it all in. Other students are sitting on the grass, under the other cherry blossom trees, and even playing. It's a calm late afternoon, and he can't help but think about how much he likes this moment.

How the raspberry lemonade sky is peering over the horizon. How you're beside him. How cool the spring breeze is... It just feels so good to be with you.

“This is a nice spot!" He tells you. "I like the view. I like you—"

"You're ruining my peace," you complain. Shutting your eyes, you focus on the pocky. "But yeah, it's a nice spot. I found it while I had that whole week of avoiding you."

Jungkook laughs. "So I found your new hideout? Sorry, not sorry."

You shrug and point at the Yakult inside the bag. He digs in the bag and takes it out. Like the pocky, he prepares it before giving it to you. When he hands you the drink, you take a sip.

"Can this be our spot?"

You choke.

Jungkook's shoulders drop, finding it hilarious and also a little offending at the same time. Was it really this hard to flirt with you? Are you this childish? He never noticed.

It's annoying that his feelings only grow even more.

"Oh my god," he moves closer to you and pats your back. You take another sip to help relieve your throat. As you recover, he lectures you. "Fine. You can have this damn spot."

When he moves back to his spot, you sit and stare at him. Jungkook continues to eat his pocky. Moving on, he pushes the conversation forward.

"Ahh, I forgot how good this is. Almond is the best.”

You tilt your head at him, wondering what it’s like to be completely wrong about a simple thing. It's like all your pressing thoughts dismissed themselves.

“Strawberry is better,” you claim. You say it rather simply. You say it honestly.

Jungkook copies your head tilt.

“Strawberry is overhyped,” he argues with you. “Almond is more expensive. The ingredients are more worth it. It’s not just a fruit-flavored cream—”

You huff at him. “Strawberry is not overhyped! Just because it’s cheaper doesn’t mean it’s worth less—”

“Actually… It does.”

The anger that you had earlier? The one that went away? Yeah… It’s back.

Fuming, you begin your rant. “Strawberry is classic. Almond was made because people got bored of chocolate, so they added almonds to trick people into thinking it was completely different… It's the same thing! Strawberry is an original flavour like—” As you explain, you put another stick in between your lips and suck on the cream. “Mhmm! It’s the best—”

Your words cut off.

Not because Jungkook retaliates.

Not because you’re chewing your pocky.

No.

It’s because Jungkook dips his head low and takes a bite out of the other end of your pocky stick. He pulls away rather quickly, but it happens…

It happened.

His lips brushed against yours.

Oh my god.

Jeon Jungkook kissed you!

Wide-eyed, you pause for a second. Then, you panic. “W-what—”

“Mhmm.. I guess it’s okay,” Jungkook swallows his bite. “I think I still like—”

“Y-you kissed me!” you exclaim, bringing your hands to your lips.

Jungkook blinks at you.

“No, I didn’t.”

“J-Jungkook," you breathe, “are you gaslighting me? You literally just kissed me!”

Your mind is spinning.

How the heck did that just happen? One second you’re defending strawberry pocky with your life, and the next… You feel more alive than ever. Jungkook has always been sneaky, but you never expected this. It was so innocent yet so mischievous—you have no words!

Perhaps, your inability to explain how you truly feel is what frustrates you and causes you to sound so naggy.

On the other hand, Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. He has no issues facing the repercussions. In his heart, he knows he’s just following it… So, why does it matter? This is him taking a chance. This is him… Winning.

This is you folding.

“___, that was not a kiss.” Jungkook reasons with you. “Why? Are you upset because you wanted it to be?"

No words.

"It's okay to be disappointed," he adds. "I'm disappointed you don't want to share this spot with me. The library is boring as fuck so I don't really want it to be our spot, you know—"

“Y-you’ve got to be k-kidding me!” you cry. “Leave the library alone, you hater."

"... Okay?" Jungkook snickers. "You're greedy today. Do you always have to be right? Is that a thing I should know about you, future girlfriend?"

"Future what?" your eyes bulge. "O-okay, fine. Fine! You win. It wasn’t a kiss. It was horrible anyway. I expected more—”

Jungkook squints at you. “We didn’t even kiss, and you’re already accusing me of being a bad kisser? Damn, at least let me prove you wrong.”

Shaking your head profusely. “T-that’s not what I’m saying! I’m sure you’re an excellent kisser—in fact, I should brace myself, right? B-because you’re probably going to kiss me one of these day, and I’ll—”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

You pause.

“W-what?”

“You heard the question,” Jungkook inches closer to you. In your mind, your body stiffens… In reality, you’re melting. Your body slightly leans in towards him and Jungkook has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Y-you already did.”

“You said it wasn't a kiss... Who's the liar now?"

You stay silent. Partly because you have no words and partly because you're afraid of what will happen if you don't speak.

Jungkook presses on. "You’re not answering my question…”

Silence.

Then, as he speaks again, you realize you're stuck either way… You’re too shy to actually say the words, but he will take your silence, and find the truth. Or... You can say it for yourself. So, okay.

Fine.

You give in.

“Y-you can do what you want. I just… I thought you already kissed me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you for the second time this afternoon. “No, silly… If I kissed you, it would’ve been like this—”

Before you know it, it happens.

It really happens.

Soft, slow, and sweetly—Jeon Jungkook kisses you.

He kisses you under the cherry blossom tree with the raspberry lemonade sky above, and the spring breeze. He kisses you until you can't breathe, and your heart falls for him. Jungkook kisses you in your spot.

The spot.

Yours and his.

#bts fanfic #jk fic #jk scenario #jk imagine #jungkook x yn #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble series #jungkook uni au #jungkook f2l #bts friends to lovers #bts uni au #bts scenario #bts x yn #bts drabble series

745 notes · View notes

generalllimaginesss · 6 months

Note

"I'm not letting you drive home in this condition” with Nico. I feel like he gives off protective energy. I’m imagining friends to lovers vibes. He falls first but they’re best friends. Maybe they met when he joined the Devils. Like randomly met somewhere and have been close ever since. And she has a really bad day at work. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. And she’s crying driving home and drives to his instead because she doesn’t want to be alone. Maybe he makes dinner (idk if this man can cook tbh) and then she’s still upset but tries to leave so he can get on with his night and he insists she stay because he doesn’t want her driving upset. And that’s when she realizes she’s in love with him. Like she drove to his place unannounced because she knew he was the only one who could comfort her and the only one she wanted to go to.

I’ve realized that I’m a sucker for Nico. He gives off golden retriever vibes and I feel like he would be such a nice person to be friends with. I hope you like it!!

••

You didn’t realize when you picked up your friends shift, now making you a double, that you would make very little money and the tables that you served were horrible. Not to mention your anxiety was at an all time high while you were waiting on a letter to tell you if you were accepted into the graduate program to your dream school. When all of these emotions combine, it makes for a shitty day.

Twelve hours after you clocked in, you were only up $150 dollars and finally were able to leave, your last table staying almost an hour after closing. There was dried sauces all over your uniform, your hair was disgusting, and you just felt heavy. With your emotions clouding your judgement, all you wanted to do was go to sleep.

As you made your way to your car that was parked behind the restaurant you worked at, a couple of notifications from your email caught your eye. The emails came from the two schools that you were betting your future on…

You decided it could hold off, the tears burning the corner of your eyes took priority, and you didn’t know if you could handle what the emails revealed.

While running your hands through your tangled mess of hair, tears freely fell, the product of being completely exhausted. The one person that kept flashing in your mind, however, was Nico. The devils played Anaheim and you weren’t able to keep up with the score, so you wanted to congratulate him on the win.

As much as you hated your job, you always reminded yourself that it was temporary, and most of all that without it you wouldn’t have Nico. The one person in the world that felt as lonely as you at one point on a rainy afternoon 6 years ago.

When Nico had first gotten to New Jersey, he didn’t feel close to anybody. Sure, he was the first overall draft pick. Sure, people loved him. But at the end of the day he felt like he had nobody. He felt like he had to keep this persona of “Mr. Tough Guy” up to prove himself.

He found himself all alone in the restaurant you work at, managing to snag you as a server. He must’ve sat at your table for hours, always finding something else to talk about every time you checked on him. He stayed until you got off and proposed the idea of going out to grab a drink or two, to which you happily obliged, finally hopeful that you found a friend.

Where Nico felt lonely in hockey, you felt lonely in school. Making friends in college was hard, especially when you’re from out of state and aren’t in Greek Life or in any extracurriculars. Your roommate and you had hardly had 10 conversations in the first year you lived together, so your studies became your main priority.

When Nico and you realized that you had a lot more in common than you thought, the friendship just developed naturally. When you were off work you supported him at his games. When he had a day off he helped you make flash cards and study. And on the rare chance that you both had nothing to do, movie nights were your thing.

Six years later and he was your very best friend. You told him everything. Every detail of your life was known by Nico and vice versa. You weren’t dependent on Nico for emotional support, but he was sweet to have around.

Tonight, however, was going to be one of those nights where you just needed somebody. You just needed Nico.

The tears cleared your eyes long enough for you to send Nico a quick text letting him know that you were headed to his apartment. He immediately responded with a thumbs up.

While you were driving, just about every depressing Olivia Rodrigo and Gracie Abram song played, reminding you of your relationship that had ended almost a month ago. You felt bad because Nico already had to deal with the mess you were then, and here you are again. Driving to his apartment, an emotional wreck and tired of the world.

You parked beside his car and walked up the flight of stairs that led to his door. You barely were able to knock when he opened the door and saw the state you were in. He could tell that you had been crying, probably only stopping when you parked, and that you needed somebody.

“Come here,” he held his arms opened in the doorway, enveloping you in the coziest embrace, the smell of his body wash lingering from his shower. Since he towered over you, he gently held your head against his chest and rested his head on yours, placing light pecks to the crown of your head.

He held you like that until you pulled away and made your way completely into his apartment, him closing and locking the door behind you.

He watched quietly as you made yourself at home, taking your shoes off and untucking your shirt from your pants. He chuckled to himself when he saw that you were wearing completely mismatched socks. He loved the quirky things that you did.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to congratulate you on the win,” your voice was nasally since you had been crying so hard and your nose was stopped up.

Nico smiled sadly, not wanting to make you feel worse, but aware he should probably tell you the truth.

“We lost, actually. Five to one.”

You groaned, disappointed in yourself that you didn’t bother to look up the score to make sure they won.

“I’m sorry. I worked a double and wasn’t able to watch. I just assumed with Anaheim’s record that you all would win.”

“Yeah, well, it just didn’t end up in our favor. They played pretty physical. You should go back and watch it,” He winked at you, a smile stretching from one corner of his mouth.

“But anyways, what’s wrong? I know you didn’t come here to just congratulate me on ‘winning,” he looked you up and down, taking note of the exhaustion that spewed from you.

“It just wasn’t a good day. I didn’t make money and then on the way over here music that reminded me of-” You tried to finish, but Nico immediately cut you off, reminding you of a relatively new rule that he had made.

“We don’t speak his name,” his eyebrows raised, warning you to not finish your sentence.

You sighed, “Ok, well you know who I’m referring to.”

Nico walked to his sofa, plopping down and patting the spot beside him , offering it to you. You happily obliged, tucking one leg underneath you and the other tucked into your chest.

“They emailed me back…the schools,” you announced, to which Nico instantly perked up.

“And? Did you get in?” A part of him wanted to see you live your dream, but he knew that with you getting into your dream school would mean you would be leaving New Jersey. More specifically, leaving him. The thought of not having you only 15 minutes away made him want to punch a wall. He had let himself fall for you, knowing that while New Jersey was home for him, it was merely a checkpoint for you. It was one step closer to you taking off in life.

“I didn’t look. I’m scared to,” You admitted, pulling out your phone and handing it to him.

“Please read it for me.”

He clicked on the email, his expression hard to read.

He didn’t want to read the news to you. He didn’t want to be the one that told you that you had been waitlisted by the two schools you were betting on, but he knew it was better for him to read it to you than you read it alone.

When you figured he had ample time to read both emails and he wasn’t telling you anything, a pit in your stomach began to take place. Tears quickly puddled, spilling over your bottom eyelid as if they were a never ending fountain.

“I didn’t get in, did I?” Your voice broke, in return breaking a little piece of Nico.

“Waitlisted by both, but that’s not a no,” He tried to make you feel better, but when your body started shaking and the tears turned into sobs, he knew you needed to be held. He obliged, wrapping his arm around your side, pulling you closer to him and rubbing your side soothingly.

You instinctively laid your head on his side, wanting to curl into him as closely as you could, as if he could protect you from everything that’s wrong in the world. Everything that felt like it was out to get you.

“Have you had anything to eat?” He knew as soon as he asked it that you wouldn’t want to eat. He also knew that if you had been working all day that you wouldn’t take the time to stop and eat.

He felt you shake your head side to side, confirming what he already knew.

“I was about to make a quick dinner. I was thinking breakfast? Maybe some pancakes, eggs and bacon?” He ran his fingers through your hair, deciding to take your ponytail holder out and place it on his wrist. You sighed, the relief from the tension of your ponytail helping you feel slightly better.

“Please,” you said, knowing he was going to ask you if you wanted some either way. No matter if you made it into your dream schools or not, you still had to eat.

Nico slowly peeled himself off the couch, finally realizing how exhausted he was. Back-to-back games finally catching up with him.

You followed him to the kitchen, claiming stake to one of the barstools, watching him as he began to prepare the food.

“I know you probably don’t know, but what’s your backup plan? Are you going to apply to other schools?” He asked, cracking eggs into a bowl with pancake mix.

“No. I’ll have to wait until next year. I’m stuck here for another year, Nico,” your voice was strained and scratchy, but he understood you.

“That’s not all bad is it? I mean I’m here,” he attempted to make you laugh, but it was to no avail.

“My roommate is moving back home and I literally have no one else who I think I could room with. We both planned on this being it for Jersey,” you laughed, not out of humor, but at the thought of how much has gone wrong in 12 hours.

“What about staying with me?” He asked the question before he could catch himself. Would you see straight through to his true feelings for you, or would you just think he was extending a friendly offer to one of his friends who needed a little help.

“Nico, why the hell would you want me to move in with you? Have you met me?” Your puffy eyes made eye contact with his sweet ones.

Oh, how absolutely clueless you were. It would have been cute had it not been his feelings for you in the mix.

“You’re not that bad. I’ve definitely had worse roommates.” He smiled as he flipped the pancakes on the griddle and placed the eggs in a pan on the stove to cook.

“I can’t accept your pity offer,” you reached across the counter for a paper towel to catch the snot that was creeping out of your nose.

“Don’t think of it as a pity offer. Think of it as…what’s that word for when it’s not a parasite, but both things benefit?” He looked to the ceiling as if it held the answer to his missing word.

You laughed, finding it cute that he sometimes can’t think of the right English word he’s looking for.

“Mutualism?” You pitch the word to him, to which he points to you enthusiastically.

“That! Think of it as that. I mean, I could use a little help around here,” he motioned to his apartment.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. I’d have to think about it,” Your tears were becoming manageable with him trying to make you feel better. You’d internally think about everything that went wrong and tears would brim again, but when Nico talked it made it better.

“Well think about it,” he said, his bacon looking a tiny bit burnt as he transferred it from the pan to a dish to serve to you along with some scrambled eggs and a pancake.

You began to dig in to the food, Nico following close behind you as he fixed his plate and sat beside you. The two of you ate in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but a peaceful silence. It allowed for you to think and for him to think about you. He wanted to feel sad about you not getting into the graduate program, but a whole extra year with you? He couldn’t be too upset.

The two of you finished eating and washed your dishes, putting them up, Nico returning to the living room on the sofa and you putting your shoes back on.

“What are you doing?” Nico asked, his eyebrows raised inquisitively as he watched you tie your shoes.

“I’ve got to go home,” you said as you stretched your back.

“I’m not letting you drive home in this condition,” He started, ready to pitch his case for you to stay the night.

“You’re tired, upset, and you don’t need to be by yourself right now. Stay with me,” His eyes were practically begging you, but his tone was stern, evident that he would not be budging.

“I have no clothes-”

“I have some t-shirts.”

“I need to wash my hair and I have no shampoo or conditioner.”

“Nina left some here, use hers,” Nico had a solution to all of your excuses, making you realize that there really wasn’t a reason why you couldn’t spend the night.

“Just stay,” His voice was barely above a whisper, wrapping itself around your heart as you caved into him.

“Fine,” you sighed.

He showed you where all of Nina’s products were and laid out one of his old t-shirts on the counter in the bathroom. It was long enough to be a dress on you, swallowing you whole.

He ran the water for you and left you in the bathroom by yourself, causing you to let out a few silent sobs before getting in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the things you have no control over. You tried to think about the positives. You had Nico for another year.

Nico. Nico Hischier that held up your table all of those years ago. Nico Hischier that helped you study for every stupid exam you had. Nico Hischier that always ran to you first after every home game. Your Nico. Your best friend. The one that always had an open shoulder for you to cry on and open arms when you needed a hug.

Did guys treat girls like this that they just loved as friends? You sure as hell had never had one like him.

While thinking about all that Nico has been there for, tears begin to fall. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the possibility that Nico could be more than a friend. Would he feel the same? Would these newly discovered feelings be the downfall of your friendship?

Just as quick as the feelings surfaced, you shut it down. Nico meant too much to you for you to lose him over selfish feelings. Everything was perfect with him and your stupid little crush would not ruin that.

While you continued to shower, Nico changed the sheets on his bed, putting on fresh ones from the dryer so that you would be warm when you got in. He decided he would take the couch.

The smile that he had hidden while consoling you appeared as he prepared his apartment for you for the night. He thought about the possibility that you might move in with him, relishing in the idea that he could see you everyday when he woke up and at night when he went to sleep. Never ending movie nights and having his best friend 24/7…what possibly could be better?

You being his girlfriend. Would that come in time? Did he need to tell you his feelings or keep them to himself?

He had always been able to conceal his feelings, the fear of losing you greater than the pain of only being your friend. That had worked out fine, but when you rounded the corner of the hallway into the living room with his shirt hanging right above your knees and a pair of his long socks bunched on your leg, his breath hitched.

He let his eyes take in everything about you. The way your hair curled at the nape of your neck from the water, the random bruises that decorated your legs from being clumsy, a few pimples that dusted your face, only visible when your makeup was not, the random bit of mascara that you hadn’t managed to wash off.

He wanted you. He wanted you forever. He wanted you as his wedding date, his girl at the games. He wanted to share holidays with you, exchange anniversary gifts and plan birthday parties with you.

Everything in life he wanted to do with you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” He announced as he walked over to your small frame.

You were confused, about to open your mouth to ask him what he meant, but as soon as you realized he was leaning down to kiss you, your eyes grew wide in shock. His kiss cleared up what he meant.

He cupped your face with his hands, each thumb resting on your cheekbones as he very slightly pulled you closer to him.

Your lips moved in synch, making up for years of him loving you.

He noticed that you had a chapped spot on your lip, but he didn’t mind. The taste of strawberries from your lipstick from earlier lingered, causing him to deepen the kiss, never wanting to forget that taste.

You pulled away, needing to breathe. His eyes were still the soft brown ones that you loved, but you could tell that they looked at you differently from how you thought they did. Just standing in a t shirt and socks, they made you feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

A smile pulled at your lips, causing him to follow, his dimple making an appearance on his face. His scruff itched your face, but you didn’t mind.

“I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I’m upset you didn’t get into school because I’m not. Call me selfish or whatever, but I need you. You keep me grounded. I want you here with me. Move in here, find something to do while you wait to reapply. I just know there’s nobody else that I love the way I love you,” he ended his confession with a kiss to your forehead.

“Ok,” You whispered, not wanting the warmth of his body to ever be far from you.

“I love you, little lady. A lot more than you realize,” He smirked at the blush that spread across your cheeks, the rosy pink that highlighted your skin revealing the effect that this boy has on you.

He pulled you into him, hugging you as if you would be gone any second and he couldn’t let you go.

When he finally did let you go, you both hopped into his bed and began watching Harry Potter, starting with The Prisoner of Azkaban since he knew that was your favorite one.

You fell asleep first, your head resting on his chest as he scratched your back. When he noticed the soft snores escaping your mouth, he smiled to himself. This was how it was meant to be. You and him.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine

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leossmoonn · 7 months

Note

Welcome back, Sara!!! For a fluffy Mike idea, maybe just a cozy rainy day spent at home with Mike and Abby? Like watching movies with cups of hot cocoa under a mountain of blankets, and all that jazz

Hi Logan ☺️☺️☺️ thanks for sending this in. I’m always afraid of writing fluff fics bc like everyone wants the smut, but it’s reassuring to have this put in lol

it’s a sunday and mike just so happens to have the day off. he’s been working long and hard hours and you convinced him to take the day off. you and abby are so excited; you two planned the whole day from the moment you woke up to the time it was time for abby to sleep. unfortunately, it’s rainy and a sudden wind chill swept through. none of you need to get sick and mike didn’t want to make making abby carry an umbrella, so you make the quick decision to stay in. abby’s a little disappointed, but you try to make up for it.

the first thing you and mike do in the morning is make a fort with abby. and not just a little four corners fort. no, she makes you cover the entire living room with blankets. even the tv was included! you and mike are dragged into some play-pretend games. for a lot of them mike’s forced to play some sort of villan.

“why can’t i play the hero, abby?” mike frowns. “because that’s her job!” abby points to you.

mike gives you a look and you shrug. “abby’s the director here. cant fight with the boss.”

mike rolls his eyes, wanting to get out of the humid blankets and sleep, but he knows how happy this makes abby. and even though abby is making him play the bad guy, he knows she means it out of love and he also loves getting to spend as much time with abby as he can. watching you act is pretty cute as well.

once abby gets bored of playing in her fort — which is like 3 hours later — she decides she wants to watch a movie.

“let’s clean up first, yeah?” mike suggests. “no! let’s keep the fort up to watch the movie!” abby says.

“abby, no. we had our fun with the fort. it’s time to turn the house back to normal,” mike says. “please say we can keep the fort up!” abby pouts as she looks up at you.

mike gives you a warning look, but you can’t say no to abby. “let’s just keep the fort up for the movie, yeah?”

abby squeals and wiggles back into the fort. mike glares at you. “she’s never going to want to take it down.”

“she will when it’s time for bed, which is hours away.” you step closer to him, gently putting your hand on his shoulder. “how about i pop some popcorn — the real stuff on the stove — and i make us some hot coca, okay?”

well, who was mike to turn down stove-popped popcorn and hot cocoa. he felt like a little kid again. it doesn’t help that you and abby’s pouty faces were ganging up on him. he sighs in defeat and nods, crossing his arms around his chest.

“fine, but after the movie, we will clean all this up, okay?”

“of course,” you nod. you turn to abby who is lit up with excitement. “can i pick the movie?”

“yep! do you want any popcorn?” you ask her. “yes. can you put m&ms in mine?” she asks. “you got it, babe,” you answer.

you three settle in the fort, abby laying on her stomach right in front of the tv. she chose “Lady and The Tramp”, which was one of her more enjoyable movie choices.

“mike, you’re kind of like the tramp,” abby comments, popping a handful of popcorn and m&ms into her mouth.

you begin to laugh but cover it up with a cough when mike shoots you a glare. “abby, that’s not very nice.”

“he knows it’s true,” she says, kicking her feet up and dangling them in the air. “And you’re like Lady.”

you glance at mike, a small smile on your face. you lean into him, your nose brushing against the scruff on his cheek. “i think what she’s trying to say is that we are perfect for each other.”

the tips of his ears turn pink. he wraps his arm around you, pulling you in so your head rests on his shoulder. “she could’ve said it differently, though.”

you giggle, “nah, i think it’s accurate.” he rolls his eyes, but there’s no denying the smile on his face and twinkle in his eye.

mike ends up falling asleep towards the end of the movie. his head rests on your chest, both arms around your waist to hold you close. your hands are in his hair, massaging his scalp while the credits roll.

“why is he so tired all the time?” abby pouts. “he works a lot,” you say. “but i’m sure he’ll wake up soon. why don’t you help me clean the fort up?”

“do i have to?” abby frowns. “i think mike would appreciate that,” you say.

“ugh, fine. but only if we can have pancakes for dinner.”

you grin and nod, “you got it.”

mike wakes up to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. he twists and turns on the floor, the sizzle of bacon him bringing him into consciousness. he begins to open his eyes, his back beginning to ache from sleeping on the floor. he hears some giggling coming from the kitchen, sitting himself up on his elbow and peering over the couch. you’re at the stove, a spatula in your hand. abby’s sitting at the table, crayons littering the wood.

“look who’s up!” you exclaim. mike groans softly as he sits up, using the couch as a crutch to stand up. “i’m sorry i fell asleep. between the rain and the pillows —”

“shush,” you cut him off. he walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his fingers tracing sliver of skin on the small of your back that’s exposed. “i ruined our day.”

“no, you didn’t. right, abs?” you turn to her. “you did snore a lot, but you didn’t,” she says. you smile at mike, “see? all is well.”

“smells good.” he mumbles as he wraps both arms around your waist, placing his chin onto your shoulder.

“me or the food?” you glance at him with a teasing smile. he takes a not-so-nonchalant inhale of your skin. “both,” he answers.

“ew!” abby grimaces behind you two. you and mike both laugh and he presses a kiss to your cheek before pulling away. he brings some plates and silverware out, sitting across from abby and waiting for the food.

mike stares as you two discuss abby’s drawing. he can’t wipe the smiles off of his face. his life was never perfect and he knew it was never going to be, but if he could just keep this — keep you two — he would then be able to call it perfect.

“mike,” abby says with a little pout. “what’s up?” he asks.

“do you have to go back to work tomorrow?” she asks. “i do, but you also have to go back to school,” he states.

“i don’t want to,” she says. mike sighs, the calmness from his body fleeting. “you don’t have a choice, abby. i’m sorry.”

“i… i just mean… i want this day to last forever.”

his eyes widen and glance up at you. you’re rubbing her back soothingly, giving him an encouraging smile.

“maybe we can do something special for dinner again tomorrow,” you suggest. “we can watch a movie and even eat dinner on the couch.”

abby’s face lights up and she nods. “okay! can i pick the movie again?”

“only if you don’t compare me to a dog again,” mike says. abby giggles and puts a forkful of pancakes in her mouth before speaking again. “we’ll see,” she quips.

mike looks back at you, placing his hand inside of yours on the table. your feet slides up his calf, your eyes soft as you look over his face. his heart warms and for the first time in a while, he feels at peace.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader fluff #fnaf #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson

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nepxnth3 · 1 year

Text

Wally Darling Headcanons

Most Headcanons are romantic ( this is an x reader, this is my first time writing so I’m sorry this isn’t good ( ཀ ʖ̯ ཀ), anyways continue)

Wally probably has matching bracelets, you picked them out, and they were hearts with red laces. you have one half while he has the other, they’re magnetic. He finds it cute and sometimes smiles at the bracelet thinking of you

He loves dancing to old songs wit you, (if you don’t know how to dance he’d 100% show you) he just loves slow dancing with you to old romantic songs

He 100% paints his nails black, he allows you to paint his nails if you want to and he knows he looks good with painted nails. He doesn’t mind other color but he feels like he just looks good with black nails (bros a girlboss)

He 100% wears eyeshadow as well, he sometimes lets you do on him

He probably has a sweetooth, I feel like he prefers sweet over salty, he likes cakes, cupcakes, pastries, basically anything sweet

He cannot bake well, like even if he’s life depended on it but he’s learning from a cook book. Since he doesn’t need to eat, he doesn’t really cook, but ever since he met you he’s been trying to learn how to cook so he can make you food to try. Sometimes it’s good and sometimes it feels like it was made in the pits of hell.

He loves being called nicknames / pet names and calling you petname / nicknames. He just loves you calling him “sweetheart” and he loves calling you the petname “darling” mostly because it’s Wally’s lastname and it makes him blush thinking about you having his last name, as if you guys were married

Random headcanon , he’s just curious of pineapple, he nor hates or likes it, he’s just very curious. When you brought a pineapple he kept eyeing it and basically had a staring contest with it, he just doesn’t understand why it looks like that. He kept asking why was it so pointy, why it does it look like that? Why was it green ish? He has so many questions, some you couldn’t even answer.

He’s very affectionate and he’s just is very clingy, he’s independent around everyone and acts so confident but when he’s alone he sticks to you like glue and he constantly wants your love and affection

He does get jealous easily, he won’t ever show it or say it he rather keep it to himself. He gets jealous easily because he was never given this type of attention before and he doesn’t want you to share it. When Wally gets jealous he does get more clingy without trying to show it, he gets more possessive. He just doesn’t like it when people try to steal your attention while your supposed to pay attention to him. He doesn’t like how people over do their welcoming. But he tries to be patient and he does glare at them once in a while.

He likes taking you out on dates, it’s usually picnics or dates at home, movie nights, etc. Sometimes you guys bake / cook together on date nights and you guys laugh and tease each other during the progress. He always loves them. He loves dates more than anything he loves how much time he gets to spend with you.

He does stares at you, like a lot, sometimes it’s cute sometimes it’s the most horrifying thing, for example on on one of your dates while you were star gazing he was staring at you with lovey dovey eyes which was cute but another time at the middle of the night we was watching you sleep which scared the shit out of you, it felt like your soul left your body

He has a hate love relationship with rainy days, he loves them because they’re so calm and relaxing and he can stay in with you and do inside activities but he also hates them because sometimes when he has to go outside it messes up his hair and you sometimes tease him about it and he gets flustered about it. Since Wally’s hair is so long, it takes him so long it takes longer for his hair to dry not just that he just takes a long time to do his hair.

He loves it when you do his hair, he doesn’t really show it but he enjoys it, he likes how gentle and soft you are with him, you sometimes put his hair in funny hairstyle and he can’t help but laugh but likes how you softly and compassionate you are with him

Hello, this is the author, this is my first time writing, so I apologize if this doesn’t make sense or isn’t really good. But here these are my Wally Darling x Reader Headcanons, hopefully you enjoy them (tbh I want to improve my writing more so I will try to write more soon) (ﾟヮﾟ)

#wally darling x reader #wally darling #wally darling x y/n #wally darling headcanon #welcome home #welcome home x reader

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wjhik · 8 months

Note

Hiii!! How are you? Can I ask for a jude request where both the reader and him go on Ridiculousness and it’s just all fluff and jokes, thanks anyway

Cuddles (Jude Bellingham)

Soft moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. The walls were adorned with pictures of cherished memories, and the bed is a cozy haven of warmth and comfort. I was scrolling through movie options to watch. I worked my ass off all morning to get all my uni work done, so I could enjoy my weekend, not needing to stress about having to get anything done. As I picked an M&M out of the package I heard the door open. I perked up and listened. I heard keys being dropped on the table and bags being put down. I heard footsteps moving towards the bedroom, where I was. The door swung open to reveal my beloved boyfriend.

“Hey, baby.” Jude says with a sigh. “Hi.” I smile at him. He rushed into the bathroom to settle himself.

Jude came out in a t-shirt and his boxers. “Hey.” He says, settling himself in bed, next to me. He laid his head on my chest and wrapped his arms around my waist. “How was your day?” I asked him. He always got clingy after a hard day. “It wasn’t bad. But I got cold, and wet.” The rainy season was hard for Jude. All he wanted to do was cuddle in bed with a warm cup of hot chocolate. “Yeah? I’m sorry, baby.” I comfort him, running my hands through his hair. I moved my hand to grab his under the blanket. Once contact was made, he immediately pulled away. “God, woman. Your hands are so cold. What the fuck?” He exclaims. “Why do you have to freeze my ass every night?” He whines. I don’t understand why he thinks it’s so cold. It’s really not. I only keep the thermostat at 16C. (that is really cold for me, but that’s what i keep my room at so wtv)

I playfully grabbed his face, enveloping him in my coldness. “AY! GET AWAY!!” He yells out. “You’re such a drama queen.” I giggled. “I’m not. You’re fucking insane.” He says, referencing my temperature preferences. I simply rolled my eyes at him.

“What are we doing tonight, girlfriend?” He says, poking my side. “You tell me, boyfriend.” I replied, my eyes stuck to the T.V., struggling to find something interesting. “Well, I thought we could have some fun.” He whispered. “Stop being a horny teenager. Let’s watch Charlie And The Chocolate Factory.” I dismissed him. “You’re genuinely such a child.” He said.

“I never want to leave this bed.” I said, seemingly out of nowhere. Jude makes me feel so comfortable and safe. Nights like those were my favorite, because it was just me and him. No cameras. No media. No interviews. No judgment. Just a man and his girl. It was perfect.

“I second that. It's like a fort of coziness.” Jude replied. He held me in his chest tighter, and kissed the top of my head. He put his finger under my chin and made me look at him. I looked in his eyes, but instantly got nervous. I looked down, blushing to myself. He lets out a breathy laugh. He lifted my face once again, and kissed me. I felt all the butterflies that have ever been in my stomach all at once.

I pulled away and kissed his nose. I propped myself up on one elbow, gazing up at Jude with a mischievous glint in my eye. “What’s going on in that brain of yours, huh?” Jude asks, seeing past my eyes. “You know, we could stay here forever. Build a tiny world of blankets and pillows, and never face the world outside.” I say, holding him tight. Jude flashes me a heartwarming smile that I will never get tired of. “I'm all for it. We'll need to hire a breakfast delivery service, though. Can't survive on cuddles alone.” Jude jokes. I rolled my eyes and asked, “Why do you have the humor of an 86-year-old grandpa that gets called ‘pop-pop’ by his grandkids?” I ask him. He gasps loudly and places his hand on his chest. “For your information, girls would die for this humor.” He huffs. “I am girls.”

We shared a laugh, our fingers playing an intricate game of interlocking puzzles. My hand found its way to Jude's cheek, and I stroked it gently. “I love you so much. You don’t even get it.” I say. Jude quickly reciprocated by kissing me. He pulled away with a dramatic smooch to my head. “You do realize we've been in bed for hours, right?” I observed. “Hours? More like days, I think. Time ceases to exist in our cuddle kingdom.” Jude said. This guy is such a dork. “Please, stop. I think I’m going to be sick.” I said. “You love me.” Jude said, rolling his eyes. “You know I do.”

We laid there in silence, savoring the tranquility of the night, enveloped in a cocoon of love and comfort. I lifted my head to plant a soft kiss on Jude's lips, and he responded with a gentle caress, our affection speaking volumes without the need for words. “I’m so sleepy.” I said, yawning into Jude’s chest. “I know, sweetie.” Jude twisted at an awkward angle to reach for the T.V. remote on his side table. He grabbed it and turned off the T.V., as well as flicking off his side lamp. He reached above me and turned mine off as well. He shimmied down slowly, trying not to disturb me. “Sleep, my love.” He whispered quietly, kissing my head.

“I love you, you know.” I say, dreamily as I doze off into a deep sleep. “I love you more.” Jude whispers, knowing I can’t hear him. Our embrace tightened, as if trying to fuse our souls together, seeking solace and strength in each other's arms. The world outside may be calling, but for now, in the safety of our love, time stands still, and the only reality that matters is the one we've created in the quiet sanctuary of our shared warmth.

Dm for Requests

Wattpad: Funkyfishfeet

#football x reader #footballer x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham drabble #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham smut #wjhik

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bluelocksource · 10 months

Text

Itoshi Sae’s trivia (source: twt & Egoist Bible).

"I'll see with my own eyes what kind of FW (idiot) will be born in Japan."

☆ Character's colour: Adzuki bean color (reddish-brown).

☆ Nickname: ‘Japan’s Treasure’.

☆ Birthday: 10th October.

☆ Current age: 18 (3rd year of high school)

☆ Zodiac: Libra.

☆ Birthplace: Kamakura City, Kanagawa Prefecture.

☆ Family: Mother. Father. Himself. Younger brother.

☆ Current height: 180 cm.

☆ Foot size: 26.5 cm

☆ Dominant foot: Left foot.

☆ Blood type: A.

☆ Starts playing football: At age 1. “Before I knew it, I was playing soccer.”

☆ Team before returning to Japan: RE・ALE (レ・アール) Youth FC.

☆ Favorite food/drink: Salted kelp tea (shio-kombucha). “Because I can go back to 0.” (meaning he feels refreshed after drinking it)

☆ Disliked food: French fries. “It’s deadly delicious but it’s deadly to my health.”

☆ Favorite animal: Seagulls. “I like migratory birds that doesn’t stay in one place.”

☆ Favorite season: At the end of summer. "It seems that the world is starting to get lonesome."

☆ Favorite football player: Álvaro Recoba. “The left footer that casts a rainbow (perfect curve) on the pitch.” (Sae was referring to Alvaro quotes: “If today's game is on a rainy pitch, I'll draw a rainbow with my left foot.”. Álvaro is known for his curling-free-kick.)

☆ Favorite music: ‘Mercury’ by tofubeats ft. Seira Kariya. “I listen to this to cool down.”

☆ Favorite manga: Gegege no Kitaro.

☆ Favorite movie: Taxi Driver. “This De Niro is the coolest.”

☆ Favorite TV show: Chibi Maruko-chan. “It reminds me of home.”

☆ Favorite brand: “All of my sponsors. They know they're not crazy for betting on me, they have good eyes.”

☆ Hobby: Analysing data of football players and teams. “It’s easier to see the numbers in visualized data.”

☆ Mushroom shoots vs Bamboo shoots: “Depends on the mood.”

☆ What goes best with rice : Salted kelp (shio-kombu). “They don’t have it in Brazil, so I asked my parents back home to send some here.”

☆ What makes him happy: “A play beyond my imagination.”

☆ What makes him upset: Being forced to carry Japanese soccer on his back. “I’m talking about you guys.”

☆ What he thinks his strength is: He has flat ways looking at things. (meaning he look at things objectively) "People often calls me dry**, but who cares?"

☆ What he thinks his weakness is: The fact that he doesn’t know anything else other than soccer. “You guys shouldn’t live this way.”

☆ Favorite/Best subject: “I don’t know since I’ve only focus on soccer and didn’t pay attention in classes.”

☆ What made him cry recently: “Like I'd tell you, idiot.”

☆ Usual sleeping time: 8 hours (7 hours sleeping + 1 hour nap)

☆ Place he washes first when taking a bath: His bangs’ hairline.

☆ Fixation: Buttocks. “You’ll know an athlete's ability by the shape of their buttocks.”

☆ Number of chocolates received from previous Valentine: Around 2000. “That’s what my manager told me.”

☆ The first time he got confessed to: “I don’t remember which one was the first, octopus.” (here, octopus is just an insult like 'idiot' or 'fool', etc.)

☆ What will he do if received 100 million yen: “I’m not interested in such small amount of money.”

☆ At what age he stops receiving presents from Santa: At age 10.

☆ What was his last wish from Santa: “My own talent that I haven’t yet seen.”

☆ How he spent his holiday: Gazing at the sea.

☆ What will he do during his last day on Earth: Give the world's best striker the world's best pass.

*Not sure about the exact pronounciation but the most of the translation says 'Les Halles'. Updated! (25/7/2024)

** In Japan, there are terms called ‘dry person’ & ‘wet person’. ‘Dry person’ is someone who can think rationally without being overwhelmed by emotions and because of their calm demeanor, they are thought to be cold and unapproachable. ‘Wet person’ is the opposite of ‘dry person’.

note: i want to apologize in advance for any mistake made in the translation!

#blue lock #itoshi sae #trivia: itoshi sae #trivia: profile #bluelocksource #trivia #to those who reblog before changes made i'm really sorry #there was no info on his 'visual acuity'#he doesn't have bad eyeseight #really sorry about that #admin han #our translation

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 years

Text

“i can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” | Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

12 years ago, Elvis chose his career over you. What happens when he shows up at your door asking for a second chance?

a/n: this is entirely based on a dialogue prompt I saw from @twelvegods: “I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” apparently it was a really good prompt because it inspired all 8,735 words of this lol. I I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it <3 Thank you all again so so so much for 500 followers!!

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: a couple swear words, lots of angst in the first half, Y/N has trust issues oops, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

“I’m gonna marry you someday.”

That’s what Elvis Presley had said to you when he was just 20 years old and his career was starting to take off, thanks in large part (as Elvis said) to the Colonel. And you, being the young girl in love that you were, believed him.

What a fool you were.

You managed to stay together for another year before the Colonel, his claws digging into Elvis’s heart and soul to bleed all the green he could out of him, managed to convince him that appearing single would be what was best for his career— he had to let all those screaming girls believe they had a chance with him, after all.

“Baby please,” Elvis pleaded, “this is for my career. I promise it won’t be for long. We’ll get back together, you’ll see.”

You shook your head, “No, Elvis. I’m not gonna sit around waiting for you like some damsel in distress. If you want me, keep me. But otherwise…”

You paused, waiting for him to say something. Begging, pleading, praying he would say something, that you had managed to change his mind.

When he said nothing, you exploded.

You had screamed and cried, and he had screamed and cried, and you had taken your things that had made their way into his room in Graceland and stormed out of his life for good, only pausing to give him one final sincere “I love you” before you walked out the door.

The last image you had of him (that wasn’t on a tv screen or poster) was of him standing in the foyer in Graceland, tears streaming down his face, refusing to chase after you.

You hoped that time would eventually heal your wounded heart, but apparently whoever said time heals all wounds was a fucking idiot because it was now just over a decade later and you were still as in love with Elvis Presley as you had been when you were one of the only girls in the world who knew his name.

He, evidently, didn’t feel the same.

That much was clear, at least, based on the way he was still overly flirtatious with his audience in his shows, not to mention the rumors about relationships with his movie co-stars. In his shows, before he went off to Germany, he had taken to stepping down into the audience and kissing practically every woman in the room. That alone cleared any remaining doubts from your mind that he still thought about you in any capacity, despite that little voice in the back of your head that still held out some futile, desperate hope.

You’re about to curl up on the couch with some tea and your copy of Anne of Green Gables — exactly what you need on a rainy day like today — when someone knocks on your door.

“You expecting anyone, Y/N?” your friend Annie calls from the hall. You had been living with her for about 5 years down in Louisiana, after the memories in Memphis had become too much, and you loved it.

“Nope,” You call back, wondering who on earth would be knocking on doors in this weather. “If it’s one of those door-to-door salesmen, slam it in his face again.” You suggest with a laugh.

“Will do,” comes her reply, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

You turn you attention back to your book as the door opens, and nearly spill your tea all over yourself as you hear a sultry drawl you hadn’t heard in person in over a decade.

“Hi Annie… is Y/N here?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re sure Annie is as stunned as you are, then:

“Maybe,” she replies curtly, “What do ya want?”

Annie knew the whole story of you and Elvis, and she had sworn that she’d never let you get hurt like that ever again.

“Please, Annie, I just wanna talk to her.”

“And why should I let you? You’ve got a lotta nerve comin’ here after what you did—“

You’re not sure what prompts you to set your book and mug down and sigh “Annie, just let him in,” but you’re just as surprised as Annie is that you did.

She reluctantly steps aside to let him in, eyeing him warily the entire time.

Your eyes drink him in; this is the first time you’re seeing him in person in over 12 years, and your mind automatically catalogs the differences since you last saw him. He’s tanned, with a few more freckles, a result of the California sun, no doubt, and tinted glasses hide his eyes. His burgundy suit is soaked, and his hair, which was no doubt carefully styled before, now flops onto his forehead, dripping into his eyes.

He takes off his sunglasses, revealing tired blue eyes. From the way his eyes track along your body, he was drinking you in the same way you had done him.

There’s a beat of silence, then his eyes finally meet yours.

“Hi,” he says softly.

You maintain a straight face, unwilling to be taken in so easily.

“What do you want?” you ask, your voice cold. You want nothing more than to rush into his arms, but you remind yourself: he chose his career over you, and never looked back.

“I fired the Colonel,” he blurts, after several moments of trying to figure out what to say.

“About time,” you snort, dropping your serious demeanor for a split second, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“I made a mistake, Y/N. A lotta mistakes, really, but letting you go was the biggest one I ever made in my life. I missed you so, so much, and I—“

You cut him off, “Elvis, cut the shit. You made it very clear you moved on from me.”

“Y/N, I never stopped thinkin’ about you, I promise.”

“Sure, and was that before or after you kissed every girl in the audience at the end of every damn show?”

“Y/N, I—“ he starts, frustrated, then takes a deep breath. He starts again, calmer, softer, “I know how that looks. But I… I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” He looks earnestly into your eyes.

You feel your cracked heart melt just a little at his words, and yet…

“I don’t…” you sigh, “I don’t believe you. You put your career before me over a decade ago, and I tried to move on, but I couldn’t when I was seeing your face and hearing your voice everywhere, and it hurt like hell. And now you walk back in here, tell me you just made a mistake, and… what? Expect me to take you back just like that?”

“Please, Y/N,” he says, an echo of his plea back when he broke your heart for the first time, “I know I messed up bad, but… it’s you. It’s always been you, with those girls in the audience, even with Ann-Margret… I was always thinkin’ about you. And I’m willin’ to do whatever I have to to fix this. Anything. I mean it.”

And you can see the conviction in his eyes, like he’s that little boy again who believed he was Captain Marvel Jr. and could fly his family out of poverty to the Rock of Eternity. You know in your bones that he’d buy you the moon if it meant he could love you again.

But you’d made the mistake of believing his promises before.

“Elvis, I don’t know if I can trust you. How do I know you won’t drop me when your next manager thinks that’d be ‘what’s best for your career’?”

He winces as you throw the Colonel’s words from all those years ago back in his face. “I know I ruined any kind of trust you had in me that day, and I can’t tell you enough how goddamn sorry I am, Y/N. But I’m not askin’ for you to forgive me right now, I just want a chance to try and fix this. That’s all, I swear.”

He waits as you process his words, practically holding his breath as you think of how to reply.

“I’ll think about it,” you say softly.

He nods. “That’s all I’m askin’ for, sw— Y/N,” he fumbles to avoid using the old pet name for you.

“I think you should go now,” you say, your voice cold again to hide how the almost-pet name brought a storm of feelings rushing back..

“Right, um..” he fumbles around in his pocket, producing a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled on it, “Gimme a call, if you want? I’ve gotta head back to Memphis in a couple days, that’ll probably be the easiest way to reach me if you, uh, decide anything.”

“Okay,” you nod, glancing at it quickly before stuffing it in your pocket. The number was for Graceland’s house phone; a number you’d never forgotten for a second, not that you’d be telling Elvis that.

“Well, um… bye Y/N, Annie,” he nods as he moves past your roommate towards the door. He pauses, hesitating for a moment before turning back to you. “You look good, Y/N,” he says softly before heading back out into the downpour.

The “you, too” you whisper in reply is lost in the sound of rain hitting the pavement outside.

The enormity of everything that had just transpired suddenly hits you and you fall back onto the couch, tears welling up in your eyes.

Annie rushes over, concerned. You look up as she fusses over you.

“Was that… did that actually just happen?”

Annie nods, “Yeah, it did, honey. I can scarcely believe it myself.”

“Did I do the right thing?” You wring your hands, suddenly second-guessing every decision you made during the interaction with Elvis.

“I know I’ve always said that I’d punch him in his smug face if he ever showed up here after what he did to you,” Annie says, “But I see the way you look at him when he shows up on the TV, and that ain’t the look of someone who’s just angry at an ex. You’re still in love with him, honey, I know it, and I feel like a fresh start is what both of you need. I don’t mean to overstep,” she drawls, “But if I can give you some advice: just start over as friends. Don’t jump back into a relationship right away. Try to make it organic. A clean slate.”

“A clean slate,” you echo, processing her words.

You mull over what to do for a few days, worst and best-case scenarios swirling around your brain, and eventually dial Graceland. Your foot taps anxiously as you lean against the wall by the phone, listening to it ring.

“Hullo?” A raspy voice comes over the receiver.

“Hi, Elvis,” you say, trying your best to sound casual, “It’s, uh, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey,” he stammers, sounding less like the confident King of Rock and Roll superstar and more like the shy little kid you’d grown up with, “Uh, how are you?”

“I’m alright.” You reply, “Look, I did some thinking about what you said and, well… I’ve got a couple questions before I decide anything.”

“Sure, yeah, what is it?”

“Well, first of all… why now?”

“Huh?”

You sigh, “It’s been over 10 years, Elvis. What made you come back now? What made you fire the Colonel after all this time?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t very happy with the movies the Colonel was signing me up for. And then he planned this whole silly special for NBC…” he sighs, “I’ve been lost ever since I lost Mama— before that, even, when I lost—“ he cuts himself off with an awkward cough, “uh, anyway; he wasn’t helping. And I finally realized that he didn’t really care what I wanted to do. It was all about profit for him,” he says quietly. He goes on to explain hiring Binder and Bones to help with the special, to “find himself” again, and the realization he’d had that he hadn’t truly felt like himself since he’d left you.

“Hm,” is your only response at first, trying to shove down the warmth growing in your chest. “Well, um… thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome. I want you to know, Y/N… you can trust me. I know I ruined that back then, but I’d really like a chance to try and rebuild it with you if I can.”

“I think I’d like that, too.” You say after a moment of silence. “Look, Elvis, I… I don’t think it would be a good idea, if we’re gonna do this, to pick up right where we left off. We need a… a clean slate. So what if we started over as friends?” You fidget with the phone cord as you await his reply.

There are several moments of silence, and you're wondering if something happened with the call before his raspy drawl comes over the phone once more.

“I’d love to be your friend again, Y/N.”

A wave of relief floods your body, and you smile. You think for a moment before speaking again, saying hesitantly, “I’m coming up to visit for Mama’s birthday next weekend, and… maybe we could see each other then? That would be a ‘friend’ thing to do, right?”

“Yeah, I’d… I’d really like that.”

“Great, well,” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, “I’ll just give you a call when I’m back home and we can figure everything out then?”

“Whatever works for you is fine with me,” he assures you, “I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“Me, too,” you say softly, allowing a tiny bit of the warmth you felt earlier to creep back. “I’ll see you next weekend, then.”

“See you then,” he says and with a click, the phone is back to humming a dial tone.

You’re buzzing with anticipation for the next week, not only excited to see your family but also to see Elvis.

“Y/N!” Your mother rushes out as you pull into the driveway of your family’s Memphis home, “My baby’s home!”

“Happy birthday, Mama,” you smile as she rushes up to give you a hug, squeezing you tight.

“Thank you, darlin’. Come inside, honey, come in!” she insists, grabbing your suitcase from you despite your protests.

“Honey!” she calls to your father as she leads you into your childhood home, “Look who’s finally decided to come for a visit!”

“Mama, I was just here for Easter,” you remind her as you head to the living room to greet your father. “Hi Daddy,” you smile as he pulls you in for a hug.

“Good to see you, sweetheart,” he says, “Louisiana treatin’ you well?”

You nod, “Mhm. Everyone’s real nice, and Annie’s always lookin’ out for me.”

You fill your parents in on life in Louisiana, and in return they (your mother, mostly) regale you with all the Memphis gossip you’ve missed. Apparently the young couple next door had a baby recently, another young couple in town just got married, and oh yes, Elvis came back fr—

“Mary Ann, you know I don’t like talkin’ about that boy!” your father exclaims, cutting your mother off.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do, Walter,” your mother retorts, “It’s not as if we can pretend he doesn’t exist, not when he’s such a big part of this town…”

As you listen to your parents bicker, you decide that now might as well be as good a time as any to bring up your new friendship.

“Actually, Mama,” you interrupt their bickering, “I’m gonna try and meet up with Elvis while I’m in town this weekend…”

Your father’s expression flickers between confusion and anger at your words, while your mother’s morphs into one of delight.

“Oh honey, that’s wonderful!” She exclaims, “Though I admit, I thought you’d’ve at least called to tell us you got back together—“

“Mama!” You cut her off, heat flooding your face, “We’re not back together, I promise,” you add with a glance over to your father. “He showed up at our place last week, we had a talk, and we’re gonna try to be friends again.”

“Well I’m glad to see the two of you are startin’ over, honey,” your mother says with a smile

“I still don’t trust that boy,” your father grumbles. “Just… be careful, alright?”

You nod, “Of course, you know I always am, Daddy.”

”When were you two planning on meeting up?” your mother asks.

You shrug, “We haven’t figured out the details yet. I was gonna call him today to sort everything out.”

”Well you should invite him over for dinner while you’re in town.” your mother suggests, with just a hint of a mischievous sparkle in her eye, ignoring your father’s clear alarm at the suggestion.

You groan. “Mama, no, he really doesn’t need to come for dinner—“

”Y/N L/N, inviting a friend over for dinner is a polite thing to do,” your mother scolds, “and in this house we are always…?”

“Polite and respectful,” you mumble, repeating the words that had been drilled into you in childhood.

She nods, satisfied. ”It’s settled then. You two will have your little meetup and then he can come over for dinner that night, or the next if it suits him.”

”Yes, Mama,” you say, resigned. “I’ll go call him now.”

You make your way over to the kitchen, dialing the number you’ve had memorized for over 12 years.

“Hello?” The same raspy voice comes over the receiver.

”Hey, it’s um, it’s me. Y/N.”

”Oh, hey. Um, how are ya?”

”I’m alright. I’m back in town now, and Mama’s bein’… well, Mama, so you can imagine.” you say with a soft laugh.

”Oh, I can imagine,” he agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “How was the drive up?”

The two of you make small talk for a bit, slowly easing back into being a part of each other’s lives, and eventually you remember the reason you called. “Oh, yeah, by the way; I was calling to see if there was a day or time that worked for you as far as meeting up this weekend?”

”Oh, yeah.” You can hear some rustling on his end, and you assume he’s checking his schedule. “I’m actually free this afternoon around 1 if that works? Or tomorrow?”

You weren’t prepared to see him quite so soon, but you suppose now is better than putting it off until tomorrow. “This afternoon is perfect. You still like that diner on Beale Street, right?”

He hums an affirmative, and you smile, “Great, I’ll meet you there at 1, then.”

”I’ll see you then,” and the line clicks back to a dial tone.

You head back to the living room, entering to see your parents doing a wonderfully poor job of pretending as though they weren’t listening to your conversation. You roll your eyes.

”I assume you already heard, but Elvis and I are meeting for lunch at 1, just as friends, Mama,” you say pointedly, noting the beam on your mother’s face. “I’ll ask him about dinner then.”

Your father harrumphs, but mainly keeps silent, a firm frown on his face.

”That’s wonderful, honey,” your mother beams, “You’ve gotta get goin’ pretty soon then, huh?”

“Huh?” You glance over at the clock on the mantle and sure enough, it’s already 15 past noon and you still haven’t changed out of the outfit you wore for the 6-hour drive up to Memphis. You grab your suitcase and race to make yourself presentable, managing to change into a dress that seems nice enough for a lunch outing (but not too fancy), fix your windswept hair, and reapply your makeup in a cool 30 minutes before racing out the door.

Before you can make it out to the porch, though, your father stops you, calling your name as you’re about to step out the door. You turn, “Yes, Daddy?”

He has a solemn look on his face. “Just… be careful, darlin’. You know me, I hold grudges like no one else, and I admit I still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to you all those years ago. If you let him in, and he hurts you again somehow I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You step back into the room and envelop him in a hug. “Thank you for looking out for me, Daddy. I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m not the same girl I was when I met him.” You add with a sad smile.

He squeezes your hand comfortingly, “I know you’ll be smart. If he does anything, you come right to me and I’ll sort him out, alright?” You nod and, satisfied, he kindly shoos you out the door with a soft “Go on, have fun.”

You pull up to the diner to find that Elvis is already there, if the deep purple Cadillac parked nearby is any indication.

He waves from a booth near the back as you enter, his bodyguards seated at a table nearby. You slide into the seat across from him, pushing down the butterflies that threaten to stir. It might’ve been a bad idea to choose the place you went on your first date, you realize belatedly, but too late now.

“How are you?” he asks with a casual smile.

“Pretty good,” you reply, “My parents have been updating me on all the Memphis gossip I’ve missed since I was away, very exciting stuff,” you say sarcastically. “Mama says hi, by the way.”

“Tell her I say hi back,” he grins.

“Will do. Uh, how are you?” You say, trying to fall back into the rhythm of talking to him.

“I’m alright. There’s this big thing I’m gonna be workin’ on soon, I’m pretty excited for it.”

“Oh, big thing?” You ask, your interest piqued.

“It’s a…” he pauses, looking around, “no one really knows about it yet, so you gotta promise not to tell anyone, alright?”

You nod, and he continues, leaning in to whisper, “You remember that special I told you about, the one that Steve and Bones are helpin’ me with? It’s gonna be a TV special for NBC. A Christmas show, kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, it’ll have a couple of Christmas songs, but I really want it to be about finding myself again. Gettin’ back to the real Elvis.”

“Sounds exciting,” you reply, a genuine smile coming across your face at how excited he seems.

A starstruck waitress comes to take your order, and the conversation continues.

“So,” Elvis says, “how are you doin’ in Louisiana?”

“I actually really like it there,” you reply, smiling. “Annie’s great, obviously, and I found a job at a bookstore that I really love, things are goin’ pretty well. I do have the occasional grumpy customer, but that’s just how it is.” You finish with a shrug.

“Grumpy customer? Sounds like you’ve got some stories to tell,” he says, sounding genuinely interested, and you can’t help but launch into the story of a man who was sure that Stranger in a Strange Land was in the nonfiction section no matter how many times you tried to lead him over to science fiction.

You finally fall back into a rhythm of friendly conversation, trading stories for over an hour before you finally bring up what your mother had asked.

“Oh by the way,” you say, sipping your milkshake, “Mama wanted me to invite you to dinner tomorrow night.”

Elvis nearly chokes on the fry he’s just taken a bite of. “Sorry, what?”

“I told my parents that we were meeting up and she was adamant that I at the very least invite you to come over for dinner tomorrow— you know how she is about politeness—“ you explain, “but I promise, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I completely understand, I’d be more than happy to make up an excuse for you.”

“And refuse an invitation from Mrs. L/N? It’s like you want her to kill me,” he jokes. “I’d be more than happy to come,” he says, in a more sincere tone. “Besides, friends come over for dinner right?”

“Of course,” you say, trying to reassure yourself as much as him, “and Mama’s very excited to see you, so be prepared for that.”

“I always am,” he replies with a smile.

You arrange for him to come over at 7 the next night, and the rest of lunch goes smoothly until the check arrives, which starts off a round of bickering between the two of you about who should pay.

“Please let me get this, I want this to be a start to making it up to you,” Elvis argues.

“I appreciate it but I’m perfectly capable of paying for lunch, thank you very much,” you retort, and this goes on for several minutes before the two of you eventually agree to split the check.

“It was good to see you, Y/N,” Elvis says as you exit the diner, his bodyguards dutifully on alert as they follow you out.

“You, too.” You say. “I…” I didn’t realize just how much I missed you, is what you want to say, but instead, you go with “I had a good time.”

His face lights up as if those 5 little words were all he needed to brighten his day. He steps towards the Cadillac, throwing a friendly wave to you as he calls “See you tomorrow!”

You wave back, and you don’t realize how happy you are until your cheeks start to ache from smiling on the drive home.

The next day, your mother is practically frantic, bustling around the house making sure everything is perfect for when Elvis gets here.

“Mama, it’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever been here! And we’re just friends, please try to remember that.”

“Alright, alright, I know, honey. I just think it’s nice that you two are spending time together again, that’s—“

The doorbell rings, and your mother jumps into action, plucking microscopic bits of lint from your dress before hurrying to the door and opening it with a polite smile.

Elvis stands on your porch, bearing a polite smile and a bouquet of lilacs. “Hello, Mrs. L/N.”

“Hello, Elvis!” Your mother beams, “It’s wonderful to see you again. And you brought Y/N flowers, how sweet!” She looks pointedly at you.

Elvis lets out a nervous laugh as he steps into the house, “Actually, Mrs. L/N, these are for you. A birthday gift.” He holds out the bouquet to her with a shy smile, looking remarkably like the shy boy he had been back in ‘51 when you first became friends.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you dear. Wasn’t that kind of him, Walter?”

“Very kind,” your father grumbles in a tone that makes it seem as though Elvis had brought a pile of mud as a gift. He nods a greeting, “Hello, Elvis. California’s treatin’ you well, I hear.”

“Uh, yes, sir, it is. Thank you.” he replies.

When your father doesn’t respond, Elvis turns his attention to you. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you reply, resisting the urge to fuss with your dress.

The awkward silence that follows is broken as your mother ushers everyone to the dining room, arranged so she and your father are at the heads of the table while you and Elvis are sitting across from one another.

The meal begins, and the conversation that follows is strained but polite, with your mother eagerly asking questions about life in California and Hollywood and Elvis answering modestly then turning the conversation back to your family, remaining the picture of a Southern gentleman. The conversation remains polite apart from your father’s not-so-subtle grumbling about Elvis running off the California, and just when you think it can’t get any worse, he decides to bring up the rumors of Elvis’s womanizing.

“So, Elvis,” your father says casually, though his eyes remain calculating, “what’s all this I hear about you and… what’s that actress’s name, Ann-Margret? Or have you moved on to someone new by now?”

You feel your face flush, and you’re sure the mortification shows on your face as you hiss for your father to stop, please.

“Oh well sir, that’s really all just the tabloids tryin’ to get their stuff to sell, there’s no truth to that at all, I promise. Ann-Margret is a good friend of mine now, though.” Elvis answers politely, unfazed as your mother quietly scolds your father.

“Walter, quit it, you’re scarin’ the boy!”

“Well good, he should be scared after what he did to my little girl!”

“Dad!” you exclaim, mortified, “We talked about this! We’re friends now, you promised you’d be polite!”

“No, it’s alright, Y/N,” Elvis assures you, briefly breaking eye contact with your father to glance over at you, “He’s just lookin’ out for you like any father would, and I respect you for that, sir.”

Your father grunts a reply, and the conversation picks up again, still polite but even more strained than before.

Elvis remains as polite as ever, even offering to take care of the dishes — “Oh I can get those plates for ya, don’t you worry Mrs. L/N” — and despite your determination for a clean slate, your mind betrays you, reminding you of how shy and overly polite he was the first few times he was over for dinner, especially after the two of you first got together. Sure, he’s gotten a little more confident, which you’ll admit is kind of attractive, but— NO.

You firmly cut off that train of thought, no matter how badly that little voice in the back of your head (the one that practically melted at the sight of him at your door with a bouquet, reminiscent of your first date) wants to keep on track. Just friends, clean slate, you remind yourself.

After the dishes are done, your mother prepares coffee for everyone and the four of you head to the living room. At one point, Elvis gets up to get a refill, and your father follows him.

Your father approaches Elvis once it’s clear that neither you nor your mother will be getting up, and corners him.

“Now Elvis, I’m gonna try to be polite, because my daughter’s told me you two are tryin’ to be friends and I respect her wishes, but I don’t trust you after what you did to her. And if I get even a hint that you’re playin’ with her feelings, well… I’m afraid that won’t end well for ya, son.”

Elvis nods quickly, “Sir I promise you, I have no intentions of playing with your daughter’s feelings. She’s very dear to me, and I swear I’d do anything to make sure she’s happy.” He says, conviction clear in his eyes.

Your father eyes Elvis for several long moments and, apparently satisfied, returns to the living room with more coffee for you and your mother.

Elvis takes a breath to compose himself — he’s forgotten how scary your father could be when he wanted to — and exits the kitchen, re-entering as you’re laughing at some comment your mother made.

You turn as he enters with a wide smile on your face, and he’s suddenly slammed back to a time where you looked at him like that every time he entered a room— when you looked at him as though he’d hung the moon and stars just for you.

Fighting the urge to rush over and kiss you senseless — that’s not something a friend would do, he reminds himself — he moves to sit in the armchair across from you, turning his attention to whatever neighbor your mother is gossiping about tonight.

The night eventually winds to a close and Elvis thanks your parents profusely for “a wonderful meal and even better company.”

Your mother waves off the compliment modestly, “Oh it was nothin’ darling. We’ll be glad to have you back anytime. Y/N, why don’t you walk our guest out while we take care of these last few things?” she says, gesturing to the coffee mugs still sitting out.

Elvis gives one last wave to your parents, wishing them well, before stepping out to the porch with you.

“Well, my parents loved you,” you tease as the two of you make your way to the pink Cadillac looking more than slightly out of place in your modest gravel driveway.

He lets out a shy laugh, “They haven’t changed a bit, that’s for sure. Your daddy’s still as protective as ever.” His tone softens as he continues, “It was nice seein’ them again. ‘Specially your mama. She’s always been better to me than I deserve.”

Acting on impulse, you lean over and squeeze his hand as you remember his own mama isn’t waiting for him at home anymore. “You’re welcome over anytime. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” he replies in a near whisper. Your hand stays clasped with his, the warmth of him tempting you closer, and his gaze drifts slowly down to your lips before the two of you snap back to yourselves and create a respectable two feet of distance between you.

“Uh, anyway,” you attempt to continue the conversation, refusing to acknowledge that moment of… whatever that was, “Are you gonna be here for a while longer?”

He shakes his head, “I’m actually gonna be leaving for California again tomorrow.” he says almost apologetically, adding with a nod to the house, “But I’ll still be able to call ya for a bit, right?”

A frown crosses your face as you remember: “I’m actually headin’ back to Louisiana tomorrow. But,” you brighten, “I can give you my number for down there if you want?”

“I’d love that,” Elvis smiles.

You rummage around in your pockets for anything you can scribble on, producing some long-forgotten shopping list and a small pen. You scrawl your phone number down and hand it to him, determinedly not noticing the sparks you feel as your fingers brush.

“I’ll call ya every night,” he says as he stuffs it in his pocket, “I’ll need ya to keep me updated on all the Louisiana gossip, hm?”

A sad smile crosses your face at the memory of the last time he’d made a promise like that. Despite all your talk of a clean slate, you can’t help but remind him, “Let’s not make promises you can’t keep, Elvis.”

You give him one last wave, wish him goodnight, and walk back inside, his pleas of “What? No, Y/N, this ain’t gonna be like that!” falling on deaf ears.

You put on a brave face for your parents the next day, joking about what a coincidence it was that both you and Elvis happened to be leaving town on the same day, but behind closed doors, you’re unable to block the memories of the last time he had promised he’d call you every night: when he went along with the Colonel on Hank Snow’s tour.

1955

“I’ll be back in time for prom, darlin’, I promise,” Elvis reassures you over the phone. “I’ll bring you a corsage, we’ll have a great time.”

“Okay,” you reply, “I’m sorry, I know I must sound silly, but I’m just really lookin’ forward to going with you.”

“That’s not silly,” he assures you with a soft laugh, “I’m lookin’ forward to it, t—“ he cuts off, and you can barely make out what sounds like a knock on the door on his end of the line. “That’ll be Scotty again, no doubt.” he groans good-naturedly. There’s some shuffling as he makes his way over, yanking the door open with a “Scotty, how many times do I have to tell ya—“

“Elvis?” you say, concerned at how he cuts off mid-sentence, “Is everything alright?”

There’s a moment of silence, after which he stammers out a response.

“I, uh… I gotta go, I’ll call ya back, darlin’, alright?”

He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer before hanging up, but in the split second before it goes to a dial tone you can just make out a woman’s sultry voice over the receiver.

1968 - Present Day

He had still called after that, but not as frequently; certainly not every day like he promised. And while you forgave what happened on tour, you had never quite forgotten what him being away for a stretch of time could mean.

Still. Clean slate. Maybe this time could be different, you reasoned, though you were barely convincing yourself at this point.

You head back to Louisiana, promising your parents you’ll visit again soon and that you’ll give them a call as soon as you get home. You stumble through the door of your little house, exhausted after the 6-hour drive. Annie rushes over to hug you.

“Hey honey! Good to have ya home,” she grins, taking your suitcase from you, “I’ve got lunch for ya, you go sit down. I’ll put this in your room. And then I wanna hear all about how that li’l meetup went,” she adds with a wink, gently shoving you towards the kitchen while she heads down the hall.

You smile as you enter the kitchen to see a little card with the words “Welcome Home” in Annie’s signature scrawl next to a plate on the counter. You take a bite of the sandwich waiting for you — grilled cheese, Annie’s specialty — and finally allow yourself to relax. At that moment, Annie slides in with a mischievous grin, plopping herself down on the stool next to you.

“So…” she leads, a sparkle in her eye. “How was it?”

“It was good,” you reply, purposefully misinterpreting her question, “We took Mama out for dinner and I made her a cake—”

Annie cuts you off with a playful swat to your arm, “Not that! Elvis,” she says, dragging out the ‘s’ longer than necessary.

You roll your eyes, “Fine! It was… fine. We met up for lunch at this old diner we used to go to, we talked… Mama had me invite him over for dinner, and he brought flowers for her” you say pointedly, noticing the gleam in her eyes. “It went well, all things considered. Daddy did have some things to say, he still hasn’t quite forgiven him for what he did, but Elvis was a real gentleman the whole time. He actually went back to California today, filming somethin’ for TV, but he said he wants to keep in touch.”

“That’s great, honey!” Annie squeals, “I’m glad y’all are doin’ well.”

You give a weak smile in return. “Yeah, he said he’s gonna call every day, but…”

“Oh…” Annie’s eyes soften in understanding, recalling what you had told her about your relationship before. “Y/N, I know it might be scary, but what if it’s different this time? What if he actually keeps his promise? He’s said he wants to work on trust with you again, right? This is the perfect opportunity for him to prove to you that he’s worth trusting. And if he doesn’t,” she adds in a lighter tone, “I’ll fly out to California and sock him right in his pretty face myself.”

“I know you will,” you laugh, “but you’re right, I’ll—“

You’re cut off as the phone rings, and you lock eyes with Annie. It can’t be him already, can it? No, it’s probably your parents calling to make sure you made it home safely, you reason as you move to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N,” the heavy drawl surprises you, and you nearly miss what Elvis says next, “I’m glad I caught you, I was callin’ a bit ago and got quite a tellin’ off from Annie sayin’ that you weren’t there yet.”

At that you turn to glare at Annie, who only gives you a smug, mischievous smirk in return.

“Yeah, I just got in maybe twenty minutes ago,” you reply, the shock slowly fading into a kind of warmth as his voice washes over you.

“How was the drive?”

“Long,” you say with a laugh, “I’m glad to be home now. How’s California?”

“‘S alright,” he replies, “I just got back from finalizing some stuff with Steve for filming tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” you recall your conversation from a few days ago, “The Christmas special, right? Or,” you correct yourself, “the not-entirely-Christmas special.”

“Exactly,” he laughs, “I’m actually pretty excited about it.”

“That’s good,” you smile, “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says sincerely. “But anyway, enough about me. How are you?”

“Well, Annie had one of her famous grilled cheeses waiting for me when I got here so I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start. Tomorrow’s an inventory day at work, though, not nearly as exciting as filming a special for NBC.”

He sucks in a breath in sympathy, “I remember you never liked those days. Good luck with that,” he says, “and I’ll tell ya what: I’ll make sure to tell you all about the boring parts of filming so ya don’t get too jealous, how ‘bout that?” he teases

“Sounds perfect,” you laugh.

You don’t even notice the time flying by as the conversation continues, the two of you talking about everything and nothing, and you fall into a rhythm of talking for hours every night. Slowly, the nagging fear you feel that today’s the day he won’t call starts to fade, and you look forward to your nightly chats where you fill him in on any interesting customers and he tells you about the goofs he made that day during filming.

“I’m not kiddin’, I legitimately forgot the words!” he laughs.

Your only reply is to laugh even harder at the image of him surrounded by cameras forgetting the words to Heartbreak Hotel.

“Alright, come on, it ain’t that funny,” he says in a mock-hurt tone.

“Oh, I promise it is,” you say, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, “I might need you to send me a copy or whatever of these goofs, I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”

“I’ll see if I can arrange that for ya…” he replies, his voice trailing off as he seemingly turns away from the receiver for some reason.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just someone at the door,” he assures you, “Gimme one second.”

There’s some shuffling as he makes his way to the door, and your surprise at the thought of him carrying the phone with him across the room turns into a sinking feeling in your stomach as you hear the squeak of a door open and the muffled sounds of a woman’s voice. Your heart sinks as the memory of that day on his tour starts to play again in your mind, a cacophony of not again, I knew this would happen, I shouldn’t have trusted him filling your ears.

“-N? Y/N, you there?” You slowly blink back to reality as Elvis calls your name over the receiver, “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply hesitantly as he dives into an explanation about some crazy fan sneaking past security to his room. He pauses, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice.

“Y/N… you can talk to me, you know that, right? What’s wrong?” he says softly, and he sounds so genuine you want to cry.

“It’s… it’s silly…” you reply, embarrassed at the thought of telling him that that memory from all this years ago still haunts you.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d really like to know if I can help,” he replies patiently.

You sigh, and launch into an explanation of that night back in ‘55. “You just hung up on me, and the last thing I heard was some woman’s voice, and I didn’t realize how much that hurt me until I started worrying about who you were with whenever you were gone for a long time.” You explain softly, nervously fiddling with the phone cord.

“So just now, when you heard that girl at my door…” he sighs, realization dawning on him, “that brought all that back, didn’t it? I’m sorry, Y/N.” He says, and the sincerity of his words does bring tears to your eyes this time.

“I’m alright, I promise,” you reassure him, “surprised you turned her down,” you tease, wanting to move on.

“I don’t do that kinda thing anymore,” he laughs, picking up on your attempt to move to another topic, “besides, why would I stop to talk to some stranger who thinks they know everything about me when I could talk to you?”

Your heart flutters at the compliment, and you hope he can’t tell how much you’re blushing over the phone, “Aw, you’re sweet.”

There’s a moment of silence; not an awkward one, but comfortable, like the two of you don’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s company, even if it’s just on the phone. The moment is cut short, however, as Elvis speaks up again.

“I was thinkin’— and you’re free to say no, of course— well, Steve’s organizing this screening of the special before it airs. Right now it’s just Steve, Bones, Dad, Jerry, and me, but I’d like you to be there, too. Maybe get an opinion from someone who’s not family or paid to be nice to me.” He jokes.

“I’d love to,” you reply, “I’ll have to see if I can get off work, but if I can I’ll absolutely be there. And don’t worry, I’ll be brutally honest about the whole thing,” you add teasingly.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He laughs, “I’ll call once Steve has the day arranged and hopefully you can make it.”

The date Steve apparently figures out is November 19, two weeks before the special is actually set to air. Elvis relays to you that he’s arranged to do the screening at Graceland, and luckily you manage to convince your boss to give you both that day and the following day off for the long drive. Your parents are delighted to see you, of course, and you just barely miss the knowing smile on your mother’s face as you gush about how well your friendship with Elvis is going. Your father has warmed up to him the slightest bit, it seems, since your visit back in June, if the fact that he doesn’t scowl at every mention of Elvis’s name is any indication.

You take a deep breath as you pull up to Graceland. You force down the surfacing memories from the last time you were here, when Elvis officially put his career before you. Clean. Slate. you forcefully remind yourself as you step up to the front door.

The door swings open barely half a second after you ring the doorbell, and you find Elvis standing there, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey.”

There’s a moment where the two of you simply stare at each other before he blinks, as if coming back to his senses, and steps aside to let you in. “Come on in, lemme introduce you to everybody,” he says, leading you to a room with not one, not two, but three TVs mounted into the wall, as one of his household staff comes to take your coat. 4 spaces on the immense couch taking up most of the space in the room are taken, one by his father and three others by people you don’t recognize. “This is Jerry, my manager,” Elvis says, gesturing to a man in a brown suit who looked to be in his late-20s with shaggy blondish hair, “and Steve and Bones, the masterminds behind this whole thing,” he introduces the two men sitting beside Jerry with a smile, one with neat brown hair and an ascot tied around his neck, the other with dark curly hair and round glasses. The three men give you various waves and smiles.

“And of course you know my dad,” Elvis finishes, gesturing to where he’s sitting next to Bones.

“Of course, hi Mr. Presley,” you say with a smile, coming over to shake his hand.

“Good to see you again, Y/N, how’ve ya been?” he asks as you take a seat next to him.

You’re hyperaware of Elvis sitting next to you as you make small talk with everyone, carefully leaning so that there’s a bit of distance between the two of you. As the screening begins, your attention is torn between the performance onscreen and real-life Elvis making jokes in your ear about “this is actually the take right after that goof I told you about—“ Your senses are full of him: the scent of his cologne, his arm brushing against yours, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he whispers to you, and it takes more and more of your energy to actually focus on the TVs in front of you.

About half an hour into the special, you excuse yourself and wander out to the hall, needing a break from the proximity. You don’t realize Elvis followed you out until his hand gently wraps around your wrist, making you jump.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were alright” he explains, releasing you.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “just… needed a break.”

“It was that bad?” he jokes, “Damn, I’ll have to let Steve know.”

You shake your head, “No, no, it’s not that, it’s…” You hesitate, unsure if you should say what the real reason is. Your friendship is going so well, you’re not sure how he’ll react if you admit that your feelings for him were back in full force, that in truth they never really left.

“What is it?” he asks, concern in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, deciding it’s now or never.

“I’m in love with you. I never really stopped being in love with you, if I’m being honest. But being with you these past few months, being your friend again… I’ve loved it. I’ve loved talking with you on the phone for hours about everything and nothing, seeing you talk with my parents like nothing’s changed, and I… I wanna try again. For real this time.” You bite your lip, nervously gauging his reaction.

“You— you mean that?” Elvis asks softly, eyes wide.

“Yes,” you reply, “I mean it.”

“Y/N, I’d… I’d love that. I promise,” he says sincerely, “I’ll do it right this time. I’ll be the man you deserve.” He steps closer, his lips now just a breath away from yours. “Can I—“ his eyes flick from looking into yours down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you right now.” he breathes.

You nod your consent, and he swoops down to capture your lips with his, one hand cupping your cheek while the other grips your waist, pulling you close. Your arms wind around his neck up into his hair, mussing the carefully styled locks as you savor the feeling of his lips velvet-soft against yours. He walks you backward until you’re pressed against the wall, his lips never leaving yours as his body presses against you. Eventually the need for air gets the better of you, and he reluctantly pulls away, keeping his forehead and nose pressed to yours as if he can’t bear to be any farther away. His blue eyes lock with yours as you catch your breath.

“I missed you so much,” he breathes, lips brushing against yours, and the amount of love clear in those 5 little words brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you, too,” you reply softly, a smile spreading across your face.

The two of you stay like that for a while, pressed against the wall of the hallway, before Elvis mumbles “As much as I’d love to just stay here with you forever, we should probably get back before they notice we’re gone.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh sheepishly as you remember the reason you were there in the first place.

The two of you slip back into the TV room, your absence seemingly having gone unnoticed, and assume the spaces you had occupied before you left, with one small difference: your hand is intertwined with his throughout the rest of the screening.

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v1olentdelights · 11 months

Text

You’re Gonna Go Far

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader, BAU x fem!bau!reader

Summary: Time passes, and people change, but one thing will remain steady.

TW: nothing

a/n: I read something on tiktok that was like, "You have to let a girl name a fic after a lana or noah song(it's a canon event)." It's so funny because it's true. Here is My Noah Kahn titled fic!! Let me know what you think!! Also thank you @magic-is-beauty and @teddy-the-teddybear for reading it over! :) love you guys

After consulting with The BAU Section Chief and your Unit Chief, who also happened to be your long-time boyfriend, you decided it was your next step in your career. Even if you didn’t want to leave behind your work family, you knew they would understand.

—

You flopped down onto your bed, letting out an exhausted sigh. The week had been filled with meetings and tying up loose ends. Next week would be your very last week at the Quantico branch of the BAU. If the team got called into a case, you would stay behind with Penelope and work it out from there, hoping that it would end quickly so you wouldn’t miss your plane.

The familiar sound of little running footsteps made a small smile appear on your face. No matter how down or tired you felt, Jack could always make you smile. The door was flying open, and seconds later, he had pounced on you, wrapping his arms and legs around you and shoving his neck between your head and neck.

“Hey Jack. How was your day at school?”

“It was awesome, we got to take the class pet out of her terrarium.” He spewed the words out fast as he pulled his head up to look at you. “ Do you know what frogs feel like?” As you shook your head, no, he had already begun to talk again. “They feel icky, and they look kind of scary because they can’t smile. And we had to wash our hands after, really well. And for snack today, I brought those vegetable chips. Everyone thought they looked weird, but I remembered that it didn’t matter because I liked them. And-“ You put your finger to your lips, telling him to stop for a moment. The giant breath he took was almost comical.

“I’m glad you liked the chips, but please take a breath. Or you're going to get so dizzy you’ll fall over.” You both laughed, but his face turned sad.

“I just want to tell you everything because I know you’re leaving, and then I can’t tell you anything. Because dad says you are taking a plane to your new home. Which means I can’t talk. To you anymore.”

“Oh, honey.” You brought a hand up to his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his cheek in a comforting circle. “You can always talk to me. You can write me letters, and I’ll come back to visit sometimes. You can also call me sometimes. There is no need to be super sad.” Sitting up slightly, you gave him a cheek kiss. “Now, let's go find Daddy and see if he’ll buy us ice cream.”

——

Aaron did take you out for ice cream, but he stood back a bit… taking it in. Jack had been observing all the ice creams, even though he would pick play dough, the most sugary kind, every single time. You were crouched down next to him, looking at all of them, making comments about each of them.

“Aaron, honey, do you know what you want?” Your smile never fails to make his heart light up.

“Strawberry of course.” He chuckles before coming up beside you and paying for the cones.

You three made your way to one of the bench’s near the parlor.

“Can I try some of yours?” You asked Aaron slyly. He was about to offer you his cone, but you kissed him instead, tasting the strawberry on his lips. Jack started to make fake throw up noises.

“Stop it! You guys are icky.” He laughed before pushing on his fathers chest, attempting to put some space between you two. It was like a scene from a movie, a happy family of 3. You made sure to take a mental picture to save for a sad rainy day.

——

Now, your heart was beating out of its chest. You were standing in front of the monitor where the cases were presented, but you were all meeting for another reason. Aaron gave you a quick kiss for some reassurance before taking his seat at the round table.

As everyone began to file in, you could feel your heart was going wild, and your eyes began to feel heavy, as if the unshed tears weighed a ton. But when you saw Penelope walk in with he bright smile and sparkly headband, you knew you wouldn’t survive this.

“What’s going on here?” Dave asked first. Both him and Blake looked like they knew what was happening. Maybe they could tell. Penelope then jumped up from her seat.

“Oh. My. Gosh!! Am I getting another god child? I need to know, I’ll start shopping now, maybe it could be an elephant themed room or-“ But Aaron cut her off.

“No Garcia. Just take a seat, please.” You could hear the pain in his voice. Her face physically dropped before she took a seat, Derek reached out and held her hand on the table.

Why was it this hard? You knew they would support you, that they would be happy for you. You watched it happen when Emily left. It would be hard for a bit, but they would get past it, and they would persevere.

“So. A while back, I was looking at this program. I signed up for the company newspaper just to keep up with it, even sent a few emails asking about the projections for the next year and its supporters. It seems that the company also did some research on me.” You sat down in an open chair near you and ran your hands down your legs. “So they asked me to join them!”

“That’s amazing, Y/N!” Spencer exclaimed with a boyish smile on his face.

“That's not all, though, is it.” Derek stated, he had enough people leave him. He didn’t have to be a profiler to see what was coming.

“Yes, there’s more.” Here was the kicker. Taking a deep breath, you finally let it go. “It’s in Europe.” The atmosphere changed drastically. But it was hard to place what it was. “I don’t expect anyone to know what to say. But I’ve already accepted, and my ticket is bought. I am kind of regretting it now, I feel like I should stay here with you guys. You’re my fami-“

“No, you need to do this Y/L/N,” Blake said with a smile on her face. “We all understand.” It was comforting to hear it from her. She had that mother kind of aura around her.

—

The week progressed slowly. People milling around the bullpen, pens scratching on papers, the humming Spencer didn’t know he did, the coffee machine, all the normal sounds. It felt different. It all felt different now. You tried to commit every little thing to memory because if you were to never return, you’d want to keep this with you forever.

——

Your final family dinner, everyone was there, even Strauss stopped by for a bit. Henry and Michael made you a picture. It was the whole unit in Rossi’s backyard. Of course, there was an abundance of paint handprints and glitter, but that’s what made it even more special.

The sound of a utensil tapping a glass caught everyone’s attention.

“As we all know, this is our going away party for Y/N, the best in our unit. Even though we will hopefully see her all week. Tonight is about reminiscing on our past times. But it is also a time to look forward to our future. We have lost agents in the past, and we have mended our hearts. But we have never forgotten them.”

“You make it seem like I’m dying, David!” You tried to lighten the mood a tad. If he kept going on like this, you would begin to cry.

“Of course not! But we are losing you, are we not?” He chuckled a bit before continuing. “It is a once in a lifetime opportunity you have been given. And though we’ll miss you, I think we would be even more hurt if you didn’t accept” Penny stood up then, tears already filling her eyes.

“It makes me smile to know that when things get hard, you’ll be far from here. Which I know sounds bad since you have been here for all this mess for the past 8 years. But still, you are getting a chance to see some more kittens and less… gore.” She shuddered at the thought. Spencer spoke up next.

“We aren't angry at you. You’re the greatest thing we’ll have lost. But the birds will still sing, and Penelope and Derek will still keep up their banter. The bull pen will still be filled with the noises of shuffling papers and the dying coffee machine.” You let out a watery chuckle. You had tried to fix the poor thing so many times and never seemed to win, but it was still running. “Things will continue to move along. And we’ll be here waiting for you, waiting for you to come home.”

“Don’t worry, I will make sure to mention you all in my speech when I win some great award.” Bringing a hand up to wipe away your tears, you noticed how shakey they were. They always seemed to do that when you were sad. “And trust me, I will be coming back. You won’t be getting rid of me that easily!”

—

When you got home later that evening, you sat in the bathtub for a while with a lavender candle in hopes of riding yourself of a headache. It all felt like too much. You were leaving behind the past 8 years of your life just like that.

You hadn’t heard Aaron enter the bathroom, not even noticing him until he kneeled down next to you.

“You told me in your initial interview that you wanted to make a difference, darling. And that is what you are doing. Please don’t feel bad for leaving because you are chasing your dreams. Something not many people get the chance to do..” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then the other.

“I know. But in leaving behind you guys, my family. I’m leaving behind my Jack, and my goldfish, what am I supposed to do with her?!” You whined. Obviously, you knew it was something stupid, but all the little problems seemed so much bigger.

“You know Jack is going to be okay. He is in his room making a colander of when to call you. I told him the time difference so he could figure it all out.” He kissed you gently on the lips, pulling back a bit, he continued “And you know he will be more than happy to take care of her for you. It will be another reminder of you.”

It provided a little comfort, though you know it would only last so long. Everything was running through your head, so many emotions were trying to be processed.

“Let’s get you out of the bath and into bed.”

“If you wanted me naked in bed so bad, you should have just asked Hotchner.” He simply rolled his eyes at your antics. You got dressed and bundled up underneath the comfort, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

——

Today was the day you were all packed up and ready to go. What you didn’t know was the whole team had come to see you off.

As Aaron, Jack, and you made your way towards your gate, you and Jack holding hands, you recognized the gangle of people waiting near the waiting area. Penelope was the first to spot you. She began to wobble her way over to you. That was something you would miss dearly, her and her high heels.

“Oh Y/N!! I'm going to miss you so! But just know I will be out there next month! I have already got some tickets lined up!” She squished you tightly before letting you go. Derek came up to you. His smile was as bright as can be.

“One day you’ll see how proud of you we are.” Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, he pulled you in for a tight embrace. JJ covered her face with her hands. You assumed it was to try and hold her tears at bay.

“Y/N, my sister.” You could tell it came out quieter than she meant it to. “What am I going to do without you by my side? My partner in crime.” She rubbed her hand over your arm in a motherly way. Even now, she couldn’t turn off that mother instinct.

David held your head in his hands. You knew what this meant.

“Y/N, I don’t think I have ever met someone as compassionate as you, someone as smart as you, sorry Reid,” he turned to face the doctor for a moment before turning back to you. “I trust you with my life, and I would have it no other way. You are going to do great things, kid.” He pulled you in for a hug. Blake came next.

“I haven’t known you for long. But for the time I have had the pleasure of knowing you, I have found you to be extraordinary. Like everyone else has said, you will do great things.” She shook your hand firmly.

You didn’t know how you were holding it together. And then Reid stepped forward with tears in his eyes and a few having already fallen.

“I don’t want you to go,” his lower lip quivered “but I know you need to do this. And I am glad to have known you. I love you, Y/N. Don’t forget to write.” He held you tightly, as if he was afraid you would disappear when he let go. Though you suppose you were.

Little Jack, who had been standing next to you the whole time, let out a little cry.

“Y/N, do you really have to leave?” Crouching down to be at eye level with him, you could feel the tears falling down your face faster.

“Honey, I do. I’m going to help people. Remember what we talked about, though, right? You even made that schedule, and Aunt Penny made me a copy, too. I’ll hang it up on my fridge so I can see it.” He grabbed hold of you, looping his hands around your neck. You could feel his tears stain your shirt.

“Who is going to get ice cream with me? Or tuck me into bed and wish me that the bed bugs won’t bite? And dad can’t fold my shirts the way you do. He can’t play with my legos the right way, either.” He was desperate for you to stay. You knew this would be hard on him. Having lost his mother at such a young age and now losing the other mother figure in his life.

“It’s going to be hard. But you will just have to teach Daddy how to do those things. I’m sure he will learn.”

“But he’s not you.” He let out another cry, and it shattered your heart.

"NOW BOARDING FLIGHT BA 98”

That was you. It was time to leave behind your life, your family. But you were starting something new and exciting. Standing up, you straightened out your shirt a bit. Looking around, you absorbed the moment, trying to memorize all their faces, taking in all the memories.

Finally, you turned to Aaron, your lover. It had been decided by the both of you that it was best to go your separate ways for now. Not necessarily forever, but just for now.

You had only seen Aaron cry a handful of times. The stone cold face, his work facade, was something you had grown used to. And so was the smiling face he reserved for you and Jack, as well as the team after hours. But this Aaron, this was something new. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close into an affectionate hug.

“If you want to go far… then you gotta go far.” He said quietly in your ear. He pressed a kiss to your lips, just a small short peck, but then came back for more. Nothing flashy or anything, just more… meaningful, filled with more emotion.

”BOARDING FLIGHT BA 98”

——

As you sat in your seat, you pulled out a picture you had kept in your wallet for the past few years. It was one of your team members at your first ever Rossi dinner party. The smile upon each of your faces was a reminder that no matter how far apart you were, no matter how many horrors you had seen, you would always have each other.

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