#all of my answers would be the same though because nothing ever changes in my life!

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

women in male fields

fratboy!jaehyun x reader

summary: you’re fully aware you’re dating a reformed fuckboy/fratiest fratboy to exist but that doesn’t mean he can get away with acting like a douche without a taste of his own medicine… OR the 3 times sweetheart finds herself acting like a fuckboy and the 1 time Jaehyun calls her out

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol, Americanized college described (l'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart, sweet girl) in order to avoid using y/n, Imk if I missed anything!

a/n: there was something completely magical in my Chili’s triple dipper because I sat down and pounded this out for 4 hours with minimal breaks! I’d had this idea for a while but figured I’d get it out before everyone forgot about the #womeninmalefields TikTok trend. Feedback is appreciated!

Timeline-wise let’s say this is about 6 months into Jae and Sweetheart being a couple

This story is a part of my fratboy!Jaehyun universe!

dividers from cafekitsune

You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Jung Jaehyun, one of the most fratboy fratboys to ever exist. You had been around for the parties, for the handful of nights where he overdid it and got sick, countless nights of standing by to watch him play beer pong, no dates on Sunday evenings because of frat meetings, and a couple philanthropic events. You were used to a lot of it by now. 

But your boyfriend had adapted himself so well to this role that you honestly kind of hated some of his behaviors. He had changed some habits, of course. He was no longer the fuckboy fratboy that slept around, no, he was committed to you and you alone. He made some effort into being romantic which took some work since his idea of romance was sending you a daily Snapchat for your streak with a red heart. Gross. Now, he got you flowers occasionally and your favorite snacks. His room used to be an absolute pigsty and now he at the very least he shoved his mess under the bed so you didn’t see.

Then there were some habits that didn’t change and you were tired of them. Beyond tired of them. You were tired of him passively listening, barely paying attention to you, being kind of an asshole, and just being a gross guy. So you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he could do all these things and you could still like him, why wouldn't he still like you?

It had started when you texted Jaehyun on a Thursday afternoon and he didn’t respond until Saturday afternoon. It had been nothing urgent, but you were still annoyed. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. In fact, it was a horrible habit of his. He started a conversation or read a text you sent and just never responded. You knew now, based on experience and the other guys telling you, that Jaehyun sucked at texting. He would still post on Instagram or Snapchat, posting various athletes like they were his friends and promoting frat activities like normal. It was almost like he forgot that the primary function of a phone was to communicate. Good thing he was pretty!

It didn’t make it any less annoying that your boyfriend didn't care to change this habit for you though, so when he finally texted you back, you decided to give him the same treatment. Saturday came to an end and you didn’t text back. Sunday was the same and so was Monday. He texted you countless times, so many questions, random updates on his day, and asking you if you were ok or if he should send help to your dorm. So when you knocked on the door Tuesday afternoon scrolling on your phone when Jaehyun opened the door. It was pretty safe to say he was pretty confused.

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer any of my texts,” Jaehyun asked while he led the two of you upstairs.

You hummed noncommittally, your eyes not leaving the screen of your phone, “oh yeah, my phone broke. My bad.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue, ready to tell you that he had seen you posting on your stories, your phone didn’t look new, and he had heard you on FaceTime with Haechan just yesterday. That you were literally scrolling through Instagram when he opened the door, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled you into his arms, and pulled up the most recent episode of one of your shows. 

He couldn’t really complain if you were here with him now, right? You were in his bed, in his arms, laying on his chest. Everything was fine. A few days of no contact was normal and you both had a good enough relationship where it shouldn’t bother him, right? But it did…

The next time Jaehyun pissed you off was just a week later. He had proven to be a little extra clingy after his punishment of silence and that was good enough for you. It had been enough to hold you off with some of his, less than perfect behavior, until the next time he messed up. Sure, enough it was just 7 days later when he acted stupid again. And it was time for him to learn again. Sometimes he just had to learn to not do something by doing it and learning the consequences. Like a child… or a pet.

Jaehyun had had a stressful week. You knew that, he had told you about it the last time you saw him just yesterday, so you did feel kinda bad for deciding to pull this out of your sleeve now. How was he going to learn if you never tried to fix it though?

Jaehyun was pacing around his room, running a hand down his face and staring at the email that basically told him nothing from their partner sorority. He was social chair, so he was in charge of planning mixers. That’s exactly what he was trying to do! But the Kappa social chair was either knowingly being a pain in the ass or just naturally was a pain in the ass. How was it useful for Jaehyun to know when a handful of sisters all had an astronomy class?! Why did that matter when he was asking her to choose from a handful of dates he’d already chosen?!

Not only was this sorority social chair being annoying, Taeyong had been on his ass to plan some kind of sponsored philanthropic event, but everyone Nu Chi had worked with previously was being so difficult! No one was returning a single one of his emails, he spent his afternoons on hold or making calls, and just getting in contact with new companies and vendors just took so much effort. He currently had one sponsor, which was fine, whatever. But nothing Nu Chi Theta did while Jaehyun was social chair was ever just fine. Fine was acceptable for Alpha Sig’s but not for Nu Chi’s. He would need at least two more sponsors to reach the level of finery he was used to working with.

So that’s what Jaehyun was texting you about, his fingers tapping across the small screen of his phone while he put all his ranting and raving into words and sent off the text with a sigh of relief. You would talk him down, get him through his stress, and give him some advice for his problems. Then he’d feel like a new man, ready to tackle his problems with a clear head just like you always did for him. Just the thought of your advice had him smiling down at his phone while he added ‘sorry, about that. had to vent. how was your day sweets?’ and sent it your way.

On your end, you read through the long text ready to reply and give him some advice and offer your own help, but then you remembered… You remembered how just a few days ago you were venting to him about a small argument you and Ari, your roommate, had gotten into, and he showed no signs of actually listening. You went to him for a reason! He had at least 10 roommates, he never had complaints about any of them, so it wasn’t like you were talking just to talk! You wanted your boyfriend to give you some advice like you always gave him, but all you got was a “damn... Wanna order me some wings?” You had to physically keep jaw from dropping. God, he could be such a fucking guy sometimes! It was like talking to a fucking wall! Albeit a very good looking, handsome wall, but a wall nonetheless.

It was time for him to get yet another taste of his own medicine. Instead of taking the time to offer your advice or offer your help, you smirked, staring at your screen as you typed out, ‘that sucks’. Next text, ‘My day was chill, kinda hungry … send me door dash?’

On his end, Jaehyun stared at the screen with blatant confusion, watching as the minutes ticked by while he waited for some long paragraph with solutions and encouragement to be sent his way. After five minutes nothing came. The same after 10. No change after 20 and then he sets his phone aside feeling grumpy and pissy. Why wasn’t his girlfriend helping him? Did you even read his message?

And he couldn’t exactly call you out on it because it wasn’t an issue between the both of you. They were problems he had before you guys were together sure, but he liked having you to lean on now. He sighed tiredly, resting his chin atop his folded arms with a pout while staring at his dark screen and willing you to text him back again so all his issues would be just one step closer to being fixed.

His heart skipped a beat when the screen lit up and he saw the familiar combination of emojis used for your contact. He reached for his phone eagerly, feeling his heart soar at the anticipated text where you would help him solve his issues. But his face fell into a frown and he groaned out loudly at the words on his screen: ‘is my food on its way yet?’

The last reciprocation of his fuckboy energy was probably the worst. You honestly don’t know how you let Jaehyun get away with it practically unscathed, but karma was coming around now and she wasn’t merciful. It was your pièce de résistance, the cherry on top of your fuckboy sundae, your magnum opus, your masterpiece. 

To give Jaehyun some credit, it had been a while since he had dated a woman for a long period of time, or really, dated any woman at all. Maybe he had forgotten some very basic decorum and manners as far as ways to act and things to say or not say. Just yesterday you had been complaining about your professor being very vague in the instructions for your assignment, and even more vague when you emailed him to ask for clarity. “Like the instructions make it sound so simple, but it can’t be that simple if this project accounts for 30% of our grade! Like hello, is it hard to reply to an email with words that actually fucking mean something?” You groaned, running your fingers through your hair while you texted your project group chat what your professor had replied.

Jaehyun chuckled, running a calming hand down your back, focusing his relaxing touch on your lower back as his fingers kneaded at your muscles, “chill out sweetheart, I think you’re making this a bigger deal than it actually is.”

You sent him an unamused look from the corner of your eye, “chill out? Jae, I just said this project accounts for a third of my grade. I can’t be chill about this.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, “are you… you know?”

Your fingers froze over your keyboard, waiting for his next words, giving him a chance to backtrack. He stayed silent and waited patiently. You exhaled, speaking in a voice that was all too eerily calm, “Am I what, Jaehyun?”

“Are you on your period? You just seem extra worked up about something kind of pointless.” He replied casually, his fingers continuing to work at your lower back. The exact area you had once confessed hurt you so bad you could barely stand in the first couple days of your period. This- somewhat thoughtful- little shit!

You smacked his hands away while you closed your laptop and gathered your things in a hurry, mumbling, “you’re such an asshole sometimes.”

Jaehyun stared at you in shock, an asshole? He was being an asshole for caring about his girlfriend’s well-being? “Sweetheart, it’s just that you seem to be making a bigger deal out of this than it actually is,” he tried to explain.

You held a hand up, silencing him, ”every time you open your mouth, you dig yourself into a deeper hole. No, I’m not on my period. Yes, it is a big deal and yes, I’m actually leaving. Good night and goodbye.”

This very conversation had been playing on repeat in your mind while Jaehyun vented to you about Johnny being up his ass about new recruits being low as he paced around his room. “I mean, it shouldn’t be solely on my shoulders if recruits are low. There are plenty of brothers who don’t have as many responsibilities as I do. Like, I barely figured out the whole sponsored mess with Taeyong and now Johnny decided to stick his foot up my ass too. Can I get a fucking break or something?!” He ranted passionately.

You stared at him blankly from your seated position on his bed, forcing your smirk to stay hidden. “Is it… you know?” You began to ask.

“Is it stressful? Hell yeah it is, I mean shouldn't we have any and all brothers taking turns trying to recruit. I mean that’s why I take my time to throw mixers, parties, and sponsored events that kick ass so that people want to join,” Jaehyun replied with a tired sigh.

“No,” you laughed softly, “is it like your time of the month? You seem to be making a big deal out of nothing?”

When Jaehyun turned to you with his eyes wide in astonishment, he expected to see you laughing it off playfully. He expected for you to confess that you were just kidding and kiss him sweetly. But you cocked your head to the side and raised a brow as if to ask, ‘what’s the problem?’

After that, Jaehyun was quick to rise to his feet, pinning you with a heated stare. “What the hell has been up with you? You've been acting… grimy for like the last month.”

You laughed in astonishment, “I’ve been acting grimy? Huh, then imagine how I feel on a regular basis!”

“You?! Sweets, you’ve been acting like a douche! Like when you didn’t respond to me for days even though you were posting like normal and you lied about your phone being broken! Like, hello! You were on Instagram right in front of my face with the same crack on your screen since I’ve known you!”

You raised a brow, holding back an amused smirk, “that’s all? I don’t reply for a couple days and now I’m a douche? Babe, you’re being like really emotional right now, calm down.”

“And that too!” Jaehyun exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “why are you asking me if it’s my time of the month when I’m talking about something that’s bothering me? I want you to support me. You did the same thing when I texted you looking for advice when I was handling the whole mixers and sponsors thing.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “well, I don’t know what you want me to say right now.”

Jaehyun raised his brows and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what the hell he was hearing. Was he in some kind of alternate universe? Had aliens come down and planted worms in your brain? What happened to his sweet girlfriend?! “Well, an apology would be really nice,” he replies while cocking his head at you.

“And have you ever apologized to me for any of that same behavior?” You ask in a calm voice.

“Wha- me apologize?! This isn’t about me! It’s about you!”

“Oh, so it’s only a problem when I act like this and not you? Got it.”

“When?! When have I acted like you?” Jaehyun asks in exasperation, eyes wide with shocked confusion.

“Hmmm. Let me think!” You exclaim before dramatically placing the tip of your finger on your chin, “just like everyday we’ve been together, you dummy!”

“Give me examples. I can’t believe this.”

“Alright, how about how I’ve had to train you like some kind of pet to learn some very basic texting etiquette? I let you get away with being a shitty texter for months and the one time I do it, you go crazy. I got used to not getting a response from you after days on end and I act like you did one time and you almost call campus security to my dorm to see if I’m alive,” you state, counting out a single finger. 

With the next finger, “I come to you for advice regarding my single roommate considering you have like a hundred of them, and what do you do? You say, damn, buy me wings? Who the fuck does that?! So it didn’t feel very good when I did it to you, huh? Did you like looking for advice only to be hit with some bullshit response and then asked for food? Which I never got by the way!”

Third finger, “And just now. Oh no, did you not like being told your issue meant nothing? Awww, mmmm, are you sad?” You pull your face into a very sarcastic sad face, “now imagine how I feel when you asked me if I was on my fucking period?! Like, have you never been around someone with a vagina? Even Mark and Haechan who barely pull know better than to ask some shit like that! And these are just three of your douchebag behaviors! Shall I continue, Mr. so called I’m-perfect-and-can-never-make-mistakes-because-that-would-be-impossible!”

Jaehyun stood speechless. Was he really that bad? Well, clearly he was. He had to admit he didn’t think he was this bad. He had been really good about adapting to his new role as a boyfriend and thought everything else that came his way was just going to be easy to handle. Apparently, he hadn’t handled it all the right way.

“I didn’t realize I was this bad, I’m sorry. Wow,” Jaehyun sighed, sitting on the bed with his folded over his mouth, “sweetheart, I’m really sorry.”

But that was another way Jaehyun had adapted. He didn’t start arguments while being hard headed, he listened when the issue was serious, he accepted wrong doing, and made changes. 

You crawled across his bed, sitting beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been petty. I should have told you these things bothered me in the moment instead of using them against you… but it was kinda fun.”

Jaehyun rested his head atop yours and chuckled softly, “I think I’m really glad you’re not one of the frat guys because we’d always have girls in here yelling about you gaslighting them. How did you handle me doing this for so long?”

“It helps that you listen when it matters. You’re sweet, you can be romantic, you care about me, you make an effort for me, I can tell you’re trying to be better for me even if it doesn’t all come easily for me,” you explain in a calm voice, “and you’re hot as hell, the abs don’t stop, and you keep that body nice and tight for mama, don't you baby boy?”

Your cackle rings out across his room while he jumps away from you with flushed cheeks. “Don’t… don’t talk like that. It’s totally freaking me out!”

“Come on, babe,” you tease while deepening your voice playfully, “bring me that ass.” 

You manage to grab him while he tries, and fails, to jump away. You playfully knead his (lack of) ass while grinning up at him. You pucker your lips, to which Jaehyun playfully rolls his eyes before kissing you sweetly. “I’m so glad you’re a girl because you would be an absolute terror as a guy,” he states while shaking his head and cupping your cheeks.

“I think I should rush, baby,” you respond playfully, “you could be my big, dude! Come on, bro!”

“Enough of this!” Jaehyun jokingly hisses, “I want my sweet girl back.”

“Fine,” you drawl out with pout, “let this be your lesson though, Jae. When you go low, I can go lower. And I will go lower.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned. I’ll be better at texting, I’ll be an active listener, I’ll give you advice when you need it, and I’ll never ask you if you’re on your period again,” Jaehyun nods.

“See, you’re such a great learner. Let’s go get you a treat, baby,” you smile sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking his hand and leading him down the stairs toward the kitchen.

“I don’t know how I feel about you talking to me like I’m a dog…”

You smile at him, “you like it.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, “do I?”

You hum, grabbing the ice cream from the freezer, “yup, you have a praise kink.”

Well, if you say so…

[blairxbear]

Do you think you could write an Aizawa x fem reader who is a new teacher and her quirk is having cat like qualities like night vision, sharper nails, quiet walking, excellent balance etc. and she also has cat ears and a tail?

(If she can have an “orange cat” personality as well that would be wonderful. If not I understand and I’m sorry,I’m not sure if I did this correctly I’m still trying to figure out how to word things correctly)

A/N: Hi Lovely! No problem at all, I hope you like it!! I wasn't sure if you wanted it in a romantic context or not but it did end up going that way, if you don't like that though let me know and I can make changes :)

The Stray That Stole His Heart

Shota Aizawa had always been a man of patience.

A man of routine, discipline, and quiet solitude.

So naturally, when Nezu had announced a new hire at U.A., he had assumed nothing would change.

But then you arrived.

And Aizawa quickly realized that nothing would ever be the same again.

The first time Aizawa met you, it was during the faculty meeting, and he immediately knew two things:

You had cat ears and a tail, which made an impression on everyone in the room.

You were completely unpredictable.

It wasn’t just your quirk—which, admittedly, was impressive. Enhanced agility, night vision, sharp reflexes, and an uncanny ability to move so quietly that even he—someone who had trained himself to be hyper-aware—could barely hear you coming.

No, it was your personality that truly caught him off guard.

You were chaotic, to say the least.

Unfiltered, playful, mischievous—with a penchant for getting into trouble just for the fun of it.

An orange cat in human form.

And it drove him insane.

But what was worse?

It also fascinated him.

From the very first week, you had made it your personal mission to test his limits.

You frequently showed up late to meetings, claiming you got “distracted by something shiny.”

You napped in the most inconvenient places—on top of file cabinets, across the teachers’ lounge couch, even once on top of Aizawa’s desk (which had earned you the deadliest glare of his life).

You stole his coffee. Regularly.

You pounced onto his shoulders from above, just to “see if his reaction time was as fast as everyone said.”

(It was. But he still nearly had a heart attack that day.)

And yet—

Despite your absolute disregard for personal space and normal social conventions, you were a damn good teacher.

Your students adored you, your battle tactics were sharp and effective, and you had a natural talent for handling even the most rowdy kids (cough Bakugo cough).

And somehow—despite all your antics—Aizawa found himself growing used to your presence.

To the way your ears twitched when you were listening intently. To the way your tail flicked when you were irritated. To the way you always tried to get a reaction out of him, even when he refused to give you the satisfaction.

And then, one day—

He realized he had a problem.

Because he liked it.

It was late one evening, long after most of the staff had gone home.

Aizawa had been grading papers, exhaustion creeping into his bones, when he heard the softest footfalls outside his office.

No one else would have noticed them.

But Aizawa knew exactly who it was before you even poked your head inside.

“Still working?” you mused, stepping in without an invitation, tail swaying lazily behind you.

Aizawa sighed. “Obviously.”

You hummed, moving closer, perching yourself on the edge of his desk—a habit he had long given up trying to correct.

“You know,” you mused, eyes glinting in the dim light, “you’re always telling me I should take my job more seriously. But when was the last time you actually took a break?”

Aizawa didn’t respond.

Because the answer was too damn long ago.

Your lips curled slightly, as if you could read his thoughts.

Then—before he could react—you reached out, plucked his red pen from his hand, and tossed it across the room.

Aizawa stared at you.

“…Did you just—”

“Yep.”

“…Why?”

“Because you’re done for the night.”

His eye twitched. “I still have work to do.”

“Nope.” You grinned, tail flicking playfully. “Work is done. I have officially declared it.”

Aizawa exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have time for your games, Y/N.”

But you weren’t backing down.

Instead, you tilted your head, ears twitching slightly, and for the first time since you had met, your voice was softer.

“I mean it, Shota,” you murmured. “You do too much. Just… take a break. Just this once.”

Something in his chest tightened.

Because no one ever told him to slow down.

No one ever took the time to worry about him.

But you?

You had been paying attention this whole time.

And that was the moment he knew.

That he was completely and utterly doomed.

Ko-fi / Masterlist

blairxbear © 2024. do not copy, modify, or translate my work. you do not have permission to share my work outside of tumblr!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

It’s dark. The window is still open, but the chillier air is kind of nice on Eddie’s flushed skin.

The clean bedding is nice too; Eddie tries to remember the last time he appreciated something as nice as clean sheets and draws a blank.

Probably when he still lived with Wayne. Probably before they made it big. Probably before the partying started.

Eddie picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He presses it.

Wayne doesn’t pick up. Eddie’s not surprised, not really.

He tries Chris; she doesn’t answer either.

Likewise Gareth.

He doesn't bother calling Jeff.

There’s no one else in his phone; Chrissy took it all away when Eddie couldn’t differentiate between a friend a dealer or a booty call.

Like the worst Marie Kondo ever, Chrissy had held up the hundreds of friends Eddie had in his phone, one by one, ‘does this spark joy?’

No. Sometimes sucked his dick, though.

Eddie has money though. He twirls his phone on his chest, flipping it from long edge to short. There’s always somewhere open. Flip. Flip. Flip.

Not like anyone's answering him right now anyway. They’ve just left him here. With fucking Steve. It’s just one time anyway, he wouldn’t get away with it more than once. Chrissy would put him on proper lock down if she found out. Probably shove him back in the clinic.

So...just once.

One last go. And then he’d quit for sure. He hasn’t touched it for months, so he’s pretty much proved he can do it, anyway.

Eddie gets dressed. Finds cash balled up in random places.

Eddie stands in the doorway. Look up at the stars and then across the lawn at the security gates. He hasn’t had so much as a cigarette in nearly half a year. This is fine.

“Where you going, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs. Fucking busted. Still, “no where you need to worry about.”

“Uh hu.”

“Look, I’m not on house arrest okay? I can go out, I’m a grown fucking man.”

“You totally are. You want to go out, you go for it. No skin off my nose.”

Eddie whirls, shocked, “what the fuck? Aren’t you supposed to try and stop me from doing dumb shit?”

Steve raises the eyebrow, “so you admit it’s dumb?” He looks sleep rumpled, wearing sweats and a white tee shirt.

Walked right into that one. “You’re dumb.”

The face again. The totally schooled features that are utterly professional and give absolutely nothing away and yet...somehow...he’s laughing at Eddie. Eddie can feel it.

“So you go out,” Steve saunters over, stands next to Eddie, bare toes curling over the doorstep, “you score or drink or do whatever it is you’re aiming to do. Then what?”

“Then what,” Eddie mimics, all bitchy, “I’ll come home, and I’ll sober up, and it won’t change a fucking thing,” Eddie bites out.

“You think? You’ve had sober spells before, is that how it’s gone in the past?”

Eddie takes a deep breathe, because no, no that is not how it’s fucking gone in the past, “this time is different.”

“Is it?” Steve asks, completely fucking nonchalant, “how so?”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to punch someone so bad in all his life. Imagines it viscerally, Steve's fucking head cracking on the door frame while he slumps to the floor in a bloody heap.

Eddie does not do that, obviously.

“Look, I’ll come home, we don’t do anything about it, you still get paid, sound good?”

“I get paid either way,” Steve shrugs one shoulder, because he’s a cunt. “This is how a lot of addicts die, did you know that?”

“What?” Eddie asks, startled by the left turn.

“Yeah, get out of rehab, think their tolerance is still the same, get back on it…” he doesn’t bother to finish.

“That won’t happen to me.”

“Oh yeah, right. Of course. Because you’re Eddie Munson, sorry, sorry, forgot a second there.”

Eddie takes two thumping angry steps into the yard and just...just fucking screams at the sky. Just...roars at nothing. This is shit. It’s so shit. Everything is shit. And Eddie nearly fucking died last time and there’s no escaping that fact. There’s no help. There’s no point to any of this. There’s just pain and fucking misery and something clawing at Eddie’s insides trying to get out.

He roars until he’s hoarse. Until he can’t any more. Until his chin is wet with spit and he feels week and rung out.

He sits on his ass on the cold, dewy lawn.

Steve is still standing in the doorway, he doesn’t look like he’s moved at all. If he’s at all bothered by Eddie’s little meltdown, he isn’t showing it.

“Why did you want to go?” Steve asks finally, "did something change?"

Eddie shrugs, he’s got nothing, not really. No real reason past just wanting to get fucked up. Because it feels good. Because he likes it.

“Okay, what’s worth staying for?”

Eddie makes a dismissive ‘pfffft’, made croaky by his fucked out voice.

“They always say you need to do these things for yourself,” Eddie glares at Steve, because that's some dumb shit right there. Always had it in therapy though. Self worth. Mindfulness. Living in the moment and being proud of what you’ve already achieved and every journey starts with a single step and all that other bull shit they try and feed you. “I know. I agree. When you...feel like you’re nothing, you’re not worth any effort. It’s the hardest time. So pick someone else. Who can you do it for?”

“They don’t care,” Eddie croaks, “they didn’t answer,” he pulls his phone out, flips it onto the grass.

“Who?”

“Chris. Wayne.”

“Okay, give me a good reason why Wayne didn’t answer? That’s your uncle, right?”

“Yeah he...he could be at work,” Eddie admits quietly. Eddie’s given Wayne money. Well, practically forced it on him. Set him up with a nice place; or at least as nice as he could talk Wayne into. Wayne doesn’t believe in free loading though. Eddie’s convinced him to do less hours, but he still works nights two or three times a week. Claims it’s ninety percent of his social life, or some shit like that.

“Okay, and Chris?”

Eddie shrugs, embarrassment over his outburst making him petulant now.

“Eddie, what time is it where Chris is, right now?”

Eddie sighs up at the stars. It’s the middle of the fucking night, “late. Early. I guess.”

“Okay. So they’re not ignoring you, they’re just living their lives like normal human beings. Come on, get up, your ass is gonna be wet.”

“And do what?” Eddie snaps, “what’s the fucking point.” It’s not a question.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“It was a tough time, you know? Like, life sucks hard sometimes. Music helps. My favorite is The Wilds, you know? You heard that one?” The interviewer mumbles something indistinguishable, “it’s kind of...like the bit about the shining sea, you know? How like, it’s so beautiful, but it’s fucking hard to sail on. Or like how the mountains are so beautiful, but if you go up there alone, you’re gonna’ die, right? So I think...like how insignificant, and meaningless my life is, in like, the grand scheme of things, but like...that makes what you do even more important, right? Like, it means more, when you choose to be...I dunno,” the kid with a million piercings shrugs, “like just be good to each other, you know?”

“That’s not even remotely what that song is about,” Eddie mumbles at the laptop monitor.

Behind him, Steve snorts a laugh, “well that kid thinks it is.”

Another kid, more makeup than the whole of Kiss slathered on her face, “I just think it has meaning, you know?” The interviewer mumbles something again, “oh my favorite?” A lip bitten in thought, she looks at the sky for inspiration, it’s sunset, Eddie figures. Lots of similarly dressed kids in the background. Takes him a second to realize this was filmed outside of a gig, or something like that. “It’s hard to pick, but if I gotta’, it’s definitely Double Down. Those lyrics are just...Eddie Munson is just...he’s a fucking genius, you know?” She frowns, “but also really fucking dumb soemtimes, I hope he’s okay.”

“I didn’t even write that one. Jeff wrote most of that. On napkins, I think. I just...worked it together.”

Another kid, saying how important Corroded Coffin are; how they helped this kid through hard times. Honestly it’s a difficult watch, Eddie has no fucking clue where Steve even found this, and when Eddie’s phone rings he jumps on it, glad of an excuse to slap the screen of the laptop closed.

“Hi, Eddie! You called, sorry it’s early I got up to go for a run-”

“No. No, it’s fine, I...I shouldn’t have called you so late. Early. You were probably sleeping.”

“That’s okay, of course it’s okay, it’s nice you called me,” she snickers, “you never call me.”

That’s true, and Eddie feels bad. It’s always Chrissy chasing after Eddie. Trying to keep a lid on him...trying to keep him safe. He was always the one dodging her. “Yeah, sorry…” Eddie gets up so he can walk away from Steve, tail between his legs he slinks into the hall, he vows, “I’ll try and do better.”

“Good, how are you feeling? Hows your rut?”

Eddie is not fucking admitting that he just had a breakdown and nearly fucked it all up in the middle of the night. No fucking way is he admitting that, “yeah...yeah, just...couldn’t sleep, you know? I guess the rut...still going. Feels weird.”

Eddie can hear Chris moving around, figures she has him on speaker or something, “uh hu, that’s because you haven’t cycled a proper rut in like, four years honey, these things take time to settle. Is Steve doing okay? You’re not being a cunt to him are you?”

“Well I’ve only thought about punching him,” something jogs in Eddie’s mind, “Chrissy, what happened to the cleaning lady?”

“Oh...we did talk about it honey but you weren't really...taking it in, I don’t think-”

“I was fucked up.”

“Yeah...but she…”

“Just say it.”

“The...you know, the vomit. You were constantly trashing the place. She was worried she was...well she was mostly scared she was going to walk in one day and find your body.”

“Oh.” Eddie slumps down on the bottom step, “that sucks. I liked her.”

“Don’t worry, her final pay was incredible. She got a really impressive bunch of flowers.”

“Oh...well. Thank you. For sorting that.” Eddie’s eyes feel wet. His lip wobbles a little, but he holds it in. He’s got no right to guilt about that, not now. “The place looks okay though, I think Steve’s been cleaning some.”

“Yeah, probably, he seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, but the first tear breaks free and he knows he can’t hide it much longer, “go on your run.”

“Okay, speak later?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s so great to hear you sounding more like yourself, I missed you so much.”

Eddie hangs up, draws his knees up to his chest, the material of his sweats already darkened with tears.

Part Four

[yourstrulyrani]

a/n: this song just screamed simon riley to me & i finished up my internship at a doctor's office so this is inspired by both..enjoy!

simon riley x doctor/wife!reader cw: suggestive right at the end // wc: 2300

Simon Riley would never even dare to think he was worthy of loving someone. He never deemed himself as someone worthy of being loved either because who would ever date an SAS lieutenant who was so cold and so broken, let alone marry one? You didn't think that though. Simon was the strongest man you knew. You didn't believe that just because he was your husband, but because of the man he is. He has been through hell and back and he still has the strength to live another day. Even with all the chaos in his life, this man loves you as if you're the only woman on earth. He plants kisses so delicate, touches so soft, and words so sweet.

So why isn't he like this anymore?

It has been weeks since Simon has been back from deployment. Weeks of Simon answering your questions and talking to you with mere grunts and murmurs. Weeks without his touch, every night is a bedroom filled without the mix of yours and his moans and grunts. You're driving back home from work, happy that you could get out at the decent time of seven in the evening for today. You love being a doctor and seeing your patients, but it was even more rewarding when you had a husband waiting at home for you to talk to, to kiss and to hold and to spend the rest of the day with. At the penultimate stoplight before home you decide you don't want to go home this time. You thought to yourself there is no point anyway, it'll be the same thing this time too: You will come back home, tired and dirty in your scrubs but still greet Simon with a kiss to his cheek in an attempt to get more out of him compared to yesterday. He'll grunt, acknowledging your presence but not you entirely. You'll shower. Head to bed and sleep without the warmth of his arms around you.

In a need for change, you take a right on traffic light instead of the usual left home and drive to the gym. You usually don't exercise after work, since you're already exhausted from your career as it is. But Simon always used exercise as a way to get his energy out, so why not try something he does? You think of doing something light today just for some quick cardio: the treadmill.

You change into your heavily wrinkled gym clothing in your bag, at the least thankful for the change of clothing. You check in, change in the locker room, and head over to the treadmill. It's now half-past-seven, so you reason with yourself and plan on doing thirty minutes and heading home.

After some time, you stop the treadmill and feel the sweat bead down your face and back. You can feel your heart rate gradually slow down, but you've never felt better. Your hair feels wet and your cheeks are hot with the heat from the exercise. You take a glance at the watch and check the time and in bright letters: 10:58 PM.

Well who knew some quick cardio planned for only half an hour could turn into three hours?

Your eyes widen in disbelief. In the same way you made a beeline for the gym over three hours ago, you now do the same to get back home. Since you lost track of time, you only had such little time to shower and wind down before you had to wake up for another early shift at the hospital again. Knowing you, you won't get enough sleep to last you your whole shift the next morning, but at the same time the time at the gym truly helped clear your mind. You park your car in the driveway right next to Simon's truck, barely driven lately due to his time on deployment and his idleness coming home from it.

Before you could put the keys into the door, it opened. Your husband is already at the door, dressed in nothing but sweatpants. You froze, your hand still holding the key positioned for the door.

"Inside." Is the first word you clearly hear from your husband in weeks and you followed the command, heading inside still hot from your exercise. He closes the door after you enter the house and you can feel his eyes on your body. "Where were you?"

Your eyes squint in confusion. Here you are in gym attire, and he doesn't get the hint? "Is it not obvious enough, Simon?" You wave a hand up and down your gym clothes, "The gym?" You bite back, offering him a sideways glance.

Your husband crosses his arms, widening his stance. "It is a quarter past 11, doll. Cut the crap. Where were you?"

You scoff at his dramatic change in behavior. Where is the Simon that has been distant? You almost miss it. You take a couple of more steps into the house, taking off your shoes and setting them off to the side. "Don't act like all of a sudden you care. I could have been on the side of the road and you wouldn't have given tw—"

"Don't. Don't finish that sentence because we both know it's not true. I care."

"You care? Really, Simon?" You cringe at the discomfort you feel at the whole situation. You're sweaty and your back is sticking to your clothing. Your hair is sticking to your forehead. You walked on a stupid treadmill for three stupid hours and you can feel your legs give out slowly and all you want is sleep. You're pissed off at everything, but mainly at your man who claims to care right now. Without a thought to spare, you head upstairs to your shared bedroom.

All you want is a shower and some sleep. Simon follows you, the both of you knowing full well this isn't the end of the night. Simon walks into the room and sees you standing by your vanity before you could change out of your workout clothes. "What did you even mean by what you just said? Are you questioning the care I have for you now? You’re my wife."

"Oh please, Simon. If anything I have felt more like a roommate than a wife lately."

Simon's eyes widen at your words as he walks closer to you. "A what?"

You roll your eyes and gaze daggers at him, "Did I stutter?" You're too mad to think straight at this point and walk over to him, enough to feel his deep breathing on your skin. "I." You poke his chest once with your pointer finger, your head propped upwards to look at him, "Feel." Poke. Like," Poke. "A roommate." Even after poking into his chest, Simon feels the remnants of your aggressive touch on his body and can't help but to realize how mad you are. He stares down at you, poking the insides of his cheek with his tongue and clenching his jaw after. "Well. Say something, Simon!"

You aim for one last poke but Simon grabs your hand before you could, gentle enough to not hurt but commanding enough so you couldn't move it. "Stop acting like a brat and talk to me. What's wrong?"

"You know exactly what's wrong." You look up at him, your eyes threatening to let the tears flow out.

Simon sees the self-control you hold as you prevent the tears from slipping, and his heart breaks at the guilt he feels. He lets go of your hand, resting it at his sides. "So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell it to me straight then. Where were you?"

"The gym."

He nods, acknowledging your truth. "Okay. Now talk to me."

"I feel—” before you could speak, you tried gathering your thoughts. Your mind which was once cleared is now crowded in self doubt and pressure. You felt so much at once and you felt so close to breaking under the pressure. “I feel neglected, Simon. You came back from deployment and you've been shutting me out. You barely talk to me. You don't touch me. We haven't even had sex in so long. I need you." You let the tears fall, "I just miss you. I come back from work almost everyday and you barely even acknowledge me.”

Simon heard the break in your voice at the last word, and he couldn't help but to berate himself. In this moment, is where Simon thinks again exactly why he isn't worthy of love. He made you cry. His lack of love towards his sweetheart of a wife broke her into pieces so much she would rather spend her time after work at a gym rather than at home.

“Is that it?” He wants to hear more from you in order to fully understand how you’re feeling. Simon sits on the bed, taking your hands and having you stand in between his legs. He looks up at you, admiring the gorgeous features that make up you.

“Are you cheating on me?” You blurt out accidentally and see Simon’s mouth open slightly in shock. Simon couldn’t believe what came out of your mouth and neither could you. You know Simon would never but with the way he’s acting you let the doubt creep in.

“What? No, of course not. I love you. You’re the only one for me.” Simon takes his hands and rubs his hands along the side of your body in reassurance.

“So why doesn’t it feel like it?” You sighed.

Simon stays silent, staring into your eyes as his eyebrows furrow slightly in frustration. “I'm not worthy.” He shakes his head and looks down in embarrassment. You can see Simon's lips pout slowly, something he usually does when he's overthinking.

“Worthy? Of what?" Your hands move to his shoulders, rubbing in slow, soothing circles. The feel of him grounded you, and the feel of you grounded Simon.

"Of you, sweetheart." His mouth is parted as he sighs and shakes his head in a physical attempt to let go of the tension. "I am not worthy of the honor it takes to love a woman like you." He sighs again and rubs a hand down his face, scratching the stubble of his beard. He despises bringing work home to you in a fear of giving you stress about what happened when he was away from you, but he has to speak up this time. "My job, sweetheart. It's the complete opposite of yours. You save lives and I take them away. It can't work like this," Simon's voice lowers in shame. "You're too sweet for this world, you care so much. And I care so little that I don't think twice about pulling the trigger. When I came home I drowned in guilt, so disgusted with myself." The more Simon talks, the more you can see his eyes gloss with tears. "I come home to a woman so warm and I am a man who gets more brutal as the time goes by."

You let Simon speak his truth before placing your hands to cup his cheeks, and you knew it was a good sign when you felt him melt into your touch by moving his head a little closer. His hands return to your sides, once again needing your body under his touch to ground him. "You are everything to me, Simon. I don't see you as a brutal man but a man who is worthy of my love." Your thumbs rub against his cheeks, feeling the mix of prickly stubble and skin as you do so.

"But I kill pe—"

You shush him gently before he could finish his sentence. "None of that. That's what you're supposed to do." A hand of yours moves to his hair, raking your fingers through it. In a way, Simon's hair represents how much of a mess he truly is. It has clearly grown out too much, which is unusual compared to the haircut he always has. He hasn't been caring for himself in the way needs or deserves, "You're a soldier, and an amazing one at that, Simon." Your fingers rake behind his ears, one of, if not his most favorite, spots.

"Feels good, lovie."

You giggle at the way he relaxes under your touch, "The touch or my words?"

He hums, "Both. And I didn't mean to shut you out. I love you. I'm sorry."

You frown at the sincerity of his apology and lean over to kiss his cheek. "I love you too, baby."

Simon passes you a cheeky grin, "You're calling your roommate 'baby' now? Weirdo." He chuckles, making a joke at what you said earlier. You smile fondly at your husband. Everything finally feels in tune with how it should be. You hear your husband chucking and see him smiling and being playful. You feel the strands of hair under your touch.

In the intimacy of the moment, you want Simon to know just how much you think he's worthy of you. Since you're already standing in between his legs, you lower yourself slowly. Your knees bend until they reach the hardwood floor and your forearms find their way to rest on your husband's thick thighs. Simon's head moved to keep his gaze on your body as it lowered. You could see your husband lick his lips and his chest rise quicker. "I promise I'm going to make you feel so worthy, Simon. Starting now."

He lets out a breathy 'yeah?' and you nod passionately. He adjusts his hips and spreads his legs further to accommodate for your body in between them. His hands find the ties of his sweatpants, already getting ready for what you're going to do next.

You for sure kept your promise and made him feel oh so worthy that night.

[tommykinard6]

Here’s something I shall drop into the void

Buck waited for another two weeks after he first saw the text bubbles on his phone, opening his and Tommy’s chat at every possibility to wait. He waited for those bubbles to reappear, for a sign that Tommy was still thinking about him. But there was no sign, no bubbles, no nothing.

Buck had changed Tommy’s name in his phone to his own nickname in a valiant attempt to keep himself from reaching out. It didn’t take long for him to change it back, something in him desperately needing to see Tommy’s name. He was grasping at crumbs and he knew it.

Two weeks later, he nearly dropped his phone as the text bubble reappeared. His heart sped up and a lump appeared in his throat as he watched with baited breath. He was alone in the gym and he was glad of it. His friends meant well, he knew, but he didn’t want his phone snatched away from him again.

He’d already seen his future get snatched away. He couldn’t bear to watch it happen again.

The bubble went away, then reappeared just as the tones went off, calling five stations to a fully involved apartment fire. Cursing under his breath, Buck shoved his phone in his pocket and ran for the engine.

He checked his phone again just before arriving at the fire, heart sinking at the lack of message or bubble.

***

The blaze didn’t go down for hours. By the time they got back to the station, Buck had forgotten about his phone for the first time in weeks. As everyone else hit the showers, he finally pulled it out of his pocket for the first time in hours and froze.

There was no text message.

There was, however, a voicemail.

Buck’s feet took him of their own accord into the bunk room, away from any distractions. He fumbled with the buttons before shoving the phone to his ear. He couldn’t hit play fast enough.

“Evan.” Just hearing Tommy’s voice again made all the emotions surge, anger and sadness and longing and confusion all gelling into a thick lump in his chest. “Or B-Buck. I don’t know if I have the right to call you Evan anymore.”

It would always be Evan. Even for Tommy. Especially for Tommy.

“I just-I needed to say something. And I know you’re on shift. Probably at that fire downtown. Be safe. Please.” Buck didn’t know that he’d ever heard such uncertainty in Tommy’s voice. It was unfamiliar and unsettling. He didn’t like it. “This might be the coward’s way out. And I hope you don’t feel obligated to listen. I just need you to know something. You deserve answers, ones I didn’t give you before.”

There was a long moment of silence on the other end.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I want you to know that. I ran away because of my own problems, not because you did anything. You talked about me being an inspiration, but Evan, Buck, I’m anything but. I wanted nothing more than to agree to moving in. It wouldn’t be your place though. I have a house. It makes more sense to move into mine. I wanted that. I still want that and it’s not fair to you.

But at the same time, I realized that you-you think I’m a much better person than I am. Evan, you’re-you’re fucking amazing. You love unashamedly, you keep your family close, you aren’t afraid to be yourself. I’m always afraid. I’m never good enough. I’ve never been enough. Done some shit that I can never undo. Said shit I can’t take back. I hurt you, I hurt Abby, I hurt a lot of people by being a coward. Hurt myself most, I think, and I’ll never be deserving of you. And I was afraid of you figuring that out for yourself.

I shouldn’t have said all that shit about needing to explore. You don’t need to do that for your identity. I said you should because I knew that you would find someone worthy of you. It’s not me. I wanted it to be. I really fucking wanted it.” Tommy’s voice broke. Buck swiped at the silent tears running down his face, disturbing the soot settled there.

“I’m fucking selfish cause all I want is that future we had in front of us. I’m an idiot for letting you go and I would be an idiot if I tried to stay, knowing I could never deserve you. I’m so-so confused and lost and I just miss you. I love you and I’m a mess.”

Buck choked out a sob, scrubbing at his face.

“That’s not fair. I shouldn’t have said that. That’s not fair to you.” Tommy was quiet for another moment. “I think what I’m trying to say is that I ran because I was scared of you breaking my heart. I knew if I ran first, it would just be hurting myself. You hurting me, it’s something I could never predict or prepare for. It’s the unknown. Because all you’ve ever done is make me happy. I’ve never felt more alive than with you. Every moment we were apart sucked and these last few weeks…” Tommy trailed off again. Finally, he blew out a deep breath.

“I’m a mess. I thought I was put together. I thought I’d done my time in therapy and had worked through these issues, but I haven’t. I’m-I’m back in therapy now. I’ve got a lot of shit to work through. Feels good to tackle it though. I’m doing it for me mostly, but I’m also doing it for you. For us. Even if you would never take me back, I’m doing it because we deserved it. Because you deserved it.

I would take everything back that night if I could. I have no right to ask you to listen to this. I don’t know if you ever will. I have no right to beg for your forgiveness. To ask you for another chance. But if you let me, I would. Maybe not yet. I-I gotta work through some shit first. But I would spend every day and night for the rest of our lives making it up to you. I would never leave you again, not my choice. I’d spend the rest of my life making sure you’re loved and that you never doubt it.

You owe me nothing. You deserve better. You could tell me to fuck off, or ignore me. I’ll respect whatever you want. You never signed up for this. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

The line went silent for a long time. Buck had to check to make sure the voicemail hadn’t ended, sniffling as he did so.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You’re it for me and I should’ve fought harder to tell you. I should’ve told you I love you. I have a lot of regrets, Evan. You’ll never be one. Letting you go will be my biggest.”

And the voicemail ended.

“Fuck.” Buck whispered, rubbing away the tears from his eyes. “Fuck. Goddamnit.” He pulled up the automated transcript of the voicemail and read it until his eyes swam again. He saved the voicemail and the transcript before pulling up their messages.

Buck: you’re gonna say all that to me in person. And then we’re going to talk about it. No more making decisions for me, but we’re going at your pace now not mine

Buck: and I’m going to say it back in person

Therapy would do them both good. Maybe therapy together would help too. And maybe it would all be for nothing, but even as much as it all still hurt, Buck wasn’t going to deny himself what he wanted anymore. These last weeks had been hell enough.

Buck: and it’s still Evan for you

The bell went off in that moment and Buck wiped his face again hurriedly, grimacing at the realization that he hasn’t even gotten to shower yet as he ran out of the bunk room. The others looked him up and down in concern as he climbed into the truck, but he didn’t pay attention. He didn’t even know what kind of call they were going on, too in his own head to listen. His mind just kept looping on,

I love you

[katmostardently]

Set after the Doyle arc, Emily’s been a bit distant and guilty for everything, you’ve been patient nonetheless.

Implied death, hurt/comfort, fluff, barely implied smut

ʕ⁎��͡⁎ʔ༄

Word count: 737 words

a/n: I got some ideas after listening to Would You Fall in Love with Me Again, it’s short but it’s 4 am, I blame all my mistakes on that. I currently have some ideas for longer stuff but I’m lazy, tired, and uninspired so here are my scraps!! :;(∩´﹏`∩);:

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not the Emily you fell in love with.”

Her voice cracked, and you’d never quite seen Emily so broken down. You could see the genuine sorrow in her eyes, each line of her face filled with guilt. After getting out of a life or death situation because of Doyle, it was as though the only thing she had left for you was regret. Emily hated it, because someone like you didn’t deserve it

Someone like you didn’t deserve to have your heart shattered, torn to bits, to be forced into grieving, just to have it all been for nothing. Yet here you were, and that was just what happened.

Even if a week had passed since her return, hardly anything was settling in, even then, you were still there.

You placed the plate of spaghetti you’d just prepared for Emily down, settling on the couch next to her. “Emily-“, you were quick to start, and Emily was quick to silence you.

“I’m sure you’re more upset than anyone on the team, you… You’re wearing my ring for god’s sake, I couldn’t bring myself to even let you know about all this…” Emily’s mouth had quivered, letting out a shaky breath as she turned to you. “I made you wait, and now I’m not even the woman you adored so much. Y/n, I…”

She looked at you, not wanting to leave you alone ever again, but at that same moment, not feeling worthy to hold you in her arms. “I’m so sorry…” Sure, Emily was in fact changed, anyone would be.

She had this tired look in her eyes, like she wasn’t truly there, like she needed some escape. You saw it in the moments where she got home from work, when she’d secretly discard your food at night. The cigarettes in Emily’s pockets, the nights you’d wake up and cradle her through a nightmare. It all tore away at her piece by piece.

But in those same eyes, you saw the same eyes that lit up every time you were near, the same eyes that called to you with a single glance.

The same eyes, pooled with that intense devotion, that stared up to you when she knelt down on one knee a year ago.

“It’s true, you left me waiting, and it hurt, the fact that I couldn’t know you were alright.” You answered her honestly, “but it hurt even more to think you were dead. I wanted whatever monster took you from me to suffer, and I felt cursed thinking that you were taken from me.”

Before she could muster a response, you took Emily’s hand, holding it against your cheek.

Instinctively, she traced her thumb against your lips.

“And I’m so, so, so happy that you’ve come back to me.” With the way you were looking at her, Emily was certain that she’d married a princess—no, some generous, all forgiving goddess.

“I don’t deserve you…” She whispered, her hand continuing its gentle caress.

You let out a little chuckle at her words, shaking your head, “see, now only my Emily, would say something so untrue. Because you, Emily Prentiss, deserve the world.”

Then to be exact, it felt as though you gave Emily a whole galaxy, because in moments like these you always brought her some solace. There was not a single doubt you couldn’t crush with your benign palms.

She could simply hold you close in response, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you felt her heartbeat.

Emily knew that her heart would never stop, not when she’d been given the best of all women to be her fiance. She vowed to never let it stop, not when you’d be waiting for her, she could never again leave you frozen in time. Her dearest, y/n y/l/n, soon to be y/n Prentiss.

Perhaps she didn’t have to worry all that much, because somehow, you fell back in love with her new, shattered self. But really, you just simply never stopped loving her, there was no need to win you back, to make you fall in love again.

“Now… Your spaghetti’s gonna get cold….” You reminded, about to move when Emily stopped you, tenderly pushing you against the cushions. “I want my fiancé right now, not some spaghetti…” She murmured against your neck, and you smiled in response.

Forevermore, you’d never even think of giving up Emily Prentiss.

[pitchsidestories]

the favourite II Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2349

a/n: hi everyone, this oneshot is a longer one, so get cozy. <3

The golden hour has just begun in the beautiful city of Barcelona, you were finally done with correcting your student’s paper, so you were able to continue reading the book on the sofa, which was the perfect way to clock off of work in your opinion.

The happy mood slightly shifted when you thought back to the phone call you had with your girlfriend earlier that day. Aitana told you she was injured and that she was coming back home this evening.

You felt guilty, because partly you were happy about the fact that your lover was about to return to you, this year has been a lot for her work wise, and you rarely got time to spend together as a couple, apart from you trying to be there in the stands at every home game or final. It didn’t surprise you that the midfielder’s body was exhausted from all of this.

On the other hand, Aitana loved playing football so much, so it would be hard to not see her doing what she was so passionate about. You realized reading at this point was impossible, there were too many thoughts running through your mind.

“Hola, mi amor.”, you greeted her warmly, as you heard her opening the front door.

“Hola.”, the football player replied in a cheerful tone which tried to hide the disappointment the brunette felt.

Immediately you jumped off the sofa to give her a much-needed hug. “How are you? I know you had to leave national team camp early.”

“It’s nothing too bad, don’t worry.”, Aitana reassured you with a weak smile on her lips.

“But I do worry a little.”, you admitted concerned while running a hand through your girlfriends open hair, something you knew she liked, because it had a soothing effect on her.

You caught her looking at the papers which were still laying on your kitchen table, so you added quickly:” Sorry, I’ll take those to my office.”

“No, it’s fine. Stay, you’re busy.”, the midfielder slowly shook her head.

“I’m actually done with going through them. My students wrote about their role models, and I spotted some familiar names quite a few times.”, you remembered, smiling fondly at the memory.

“Oh really? Like whose names?”, Aitana looked up curiously.

“Like Patri, Alexia, Salma, but you’ve been mentioned the most. Wait-”, you counted them off on your fingers. You proudly showed your girlfriend the texts which were about her.

“I didn’t know your students cared so much about football, specifically women’s football.”, the midfielder muttered amazed, while devouring the handwritten pages.

“I know, the view definitely changed in recent years… Remember when we were at school and no one seemed to care about women’s football?”, you asked, thinking back to the time when you and Aitana met for the first time. You were best friends in school, always stuck together. Until things changed in your teenage years.

Unhappily, your girlfriend put the papers back on the table: “They always said that we can’t play with the boys.”

“Or that we would never be as good as them.“, you added. “Which I was okay with because I always preferred books over balls, but I admired you for not listening to these voices.”

You had loved a good football match when you were younger, but you never had the same burning desire to play that Aitana possessed.

“That’s all I ever wanted to do, kick a ball around.”, Aitana shrugged and even though a lot had changed since your school days, you felt reminded of the younger Aitana. The quiet girl that defiantly fought for her right to play football.

You smiled softly: “I know, and it got you very far.”

“I never knew it would.”, Aitana replied, clearly lost in her own thoughts about her career.

“But it did.” You took a deep breath. The idea that had been floating around your head since you read the papers started to take form on the tip of your tongue. “Could you do me a favour?”

“Sure, which one?”, your girlfriend answered quickly.

“Maybe you could visit my class to talk a bit about your life as a football player? It would mean the world to them. You’re clearly one of their favorites.” You nodded in the direction of the pages piled on the table.

Aitana did not answer. She stared at you speechlessly until she found her voice a second later: “Your students want to see… me?”

She looked so surprised that you had to bite back a laugh. “Yes, they would love that.”

Aitana beamed: “Sure. Of course I’m coming.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You leaned over for a quick kiss: “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

“But for now…”

Your girlfriend raised her eyebrows in expectancy: “Yes?”

“Cuddles?”, you asked innocently, ready to wrap your arms around her.

“Please.”, she smiled. You threw yourself against her body, tightly hugging her.

Laughing, Aitana let herself fall backwards against the armrest of the sofa so you could lay on top of her.

She started to run her fingers across your back: “This is nice.”

Your girlfriend paused for a moment, before adding with a smirk on her lips:” But not as comfortable as in our bed.”

“You’re right let’s go to our bedroom.”, you agreed as you helped her getting into a standing position.

“Coming.”, Aitana answered. With a soft sigh the midfielder landed on your double bed.

“This is so much better.”, she declared, eyes closed. The bedding felt pleasantly cool underneath her body while you laid down next to her.  

“Perfect.”, you mumbled. Grinning you continued:” Do you want me to read out to you a little?”

“Sure.”, the football player nodded, there was nothing in the world she found more soothing than listening to your voice.

“Okay.”, you happily obliged to it. After a couple of pages, you realized that your girlfriend was becoming sleepy. Quietly you put your book on the nightstand.

“Sleep well, Tana.”

“Night.”, Aitana whispered before inevitably sleep took it’s hold over her.

In the mornings you were always the first of you two to get up, as you needed to be ready for school. Much to your own surprise you realized that the midfielder was awake too:” Good morning.”

“Morning, amor.”, she replied, before placing a sweet kiss to your mouth.

“You know that you can still stay in bed, right?”, you muttered blushing. After all those years the brunette still had that effect on you.

“I know, but I couldn’t sleep anymore.”, Aitana admitted smiling sheepishly.

“I guess I’ll make two cups of coffees this morning.”, you remarked.

“Please.”, your girlfriend responded. When the dark-haired woman was holding the warm drink in her hand, she thanked you with another kiss.

“You’re welcome.”, you replied, enjoying one of the rare mornings you both had together.

You wished you could enjoy that moment for a little bit longer but looking at the clock on the wall you cursed under your breath:” Oh shit, I need to go!”

“Have fun. I’ll see you later.”, Aitana winked at you.

“Bye.”, you blew her a kiss, before making your way out of your home, ready for another day with your classes which were all dear to your heart.

The day arrived when Aitana was about to meet them for a lesson, you beamed excited at her:” Ready, love?”

“Ready.”, she nodded, your girlfriend was glad to have some distraction from her injury for at least the upcoming two hours. For a second you pressed her hand encouragingly, before leading her into the classroom.

“Good morning, everyone. Today we’ve a very special guest.”, you announced cheerfully.

A young girl with blonde hair called Imma sat in the front row and gasped audibly: “Oh my god, Aitana!“

She stared at the football player with widened eyes.

Your girlfriend smiled politely before introducing herself: “Hi, I’m Aitana Bonmatí. I’m a football player for FC Barcelona.“

“Can we ask her some questions?“, Jordi asked curiously. You knew that the lanky boy had vast interest in all kinds of football, no matter if the players were male or female.

You nodded, watching as his eyes sparkled in excitement: “Sure, that’s why she came.“

“Go ahead.“, Aitana prompted, trying to get the children to ask questions.

Imma raised her hand hesitantly: “From where do you know, Miss y/l/n?“

Your girlfriends gaze subconsciously drifted into your direction. You shared a smile for a split second.

With an eye-roll, Jordi complained: “That’s such a boring question, Imma!“

“I think that’s a very good question. We went to school together years ago.“, Aitana answered the question truthfully.

Jordi snorted: “Was she reading books back then too?“

You had to stop yourself from telling him, once again that reading was not only good for them but also a lot of fun. You tried to encourage your class to read every chance they got.

Before you could say anything, Aitana grinned: “Oh yes. She always loved books.“

“But I can play a bit too.“, you added innocently.

“Yeah. She’s pretty good.“, your girlfriend had to agree.

For once, Jordi was silent, looking from you to Aitana and back. A challenging smile appeared on his face: “We need to see that after class. But how did it feel to win the Ballon d’Or?“

“Amazing. It was a great honour but I couldn’t have done it without my team.“

“And you also won the Champions League!“, a red-haired girl interrupted with a big toothy grin.

“Yes, that was amazing too.“, the football player nodded.

Julias cheeks turned almost as red as her hair from exhilaration: “So cool!“

“I’m lucky to have such a great team around me.“, you heard Aitana say and you almost grimaced at how humble she was in front of your students.

Julia immediately followed with the next question, not allowing your girlfriend a break: “Do you have a favourite teammate? And is it Rolfö?“

Aitana laughed, surprised by the question: “I have a lot of favourite teammates. And Frido is one of them. She’s great, very sweet.“

“Like a team mum?“, Imma piped up.

“A bit, yes.“

“That’s cute.“, Imma commented happily.

“But we have a lot of people who can step up as team mums.“, the midfielder continued.

“Aitana, how’s your injury?”, Jordi changed the subject to a more serious one.

“It’s not too bad. They just wanted to be careful, so it doesn’t get worse.”, the midfielder waved it off in a reassuring way.

“Oh, good.”, he sighed relieved.

 “So now I’m here and can hang out with you guys.”, Aitana clapped enthusiastically her hands.

“Exactly.”, you smiled proudly at her.  

“Sorry, did you want to continue, amor?”, your girlfriend looked at you expectantly.

“No, I just wanted to say that the class is ending soon.”, you shook your head.

“Any more questions?”, the football player turned her attention to your students again.

“Can we play now?”, Jordi asked her innocently.

“Of course. Let’s go and play some football.”, Aitana agreed, her eyes mirroring the excitement of the little boy who was very thrilled to play with a Barcelona player.

On her way out, she couldn’t help but to tease you in front of the children:” Let’s see how good your teacher still is.”

“I’ll show you!”, you laughed.

“Prove it.”, the midfielder gave you a playful challenging look.

One of your students was handing you the football, so you did one of the football tricks you still knew before kicking it into the empty goal, making the boys and girls erupt into a loud cheer.

“See? She didn’t forget anything.”, Aitana said, her voice full of admiration.

“Wow.”, Jordi followed your moves with the football amazed.

“Not, bad, right?”, Aitana questioned him amused.

“Not as good as you are though.”, you whispered into her ear.

“Oh, if you got paid to play football all day, you’d also be good.”, she stated firmly.

“Yes, but I love my job, just look at their eyes.”, you replied, your girlfriend did what you asked her to do. The girls and boys faces lit up while playing football in front of one of their idols.

Afterwards she looked back at you in adoration: “I only must look in your eyes. You were made to work with children. They adore you.”

You weren’t even a big Taylor Swift fan, but your friends and the older students were and there was a line in one of her songs, which you quietly sung to her, before you looped the ball over the midfielder:” You know how to ball, I know Aristotle.”

“Excuse me?! What was that?!”, Aitana’s mouth fell wide open.

“I don’t know how I did it either!”, you confessed.

“That was impressive as hell!”, Jordi told you.

With sparkling eyes, Imma demanded: “Do it again!“

“Yes, do it again.“, Aitana smirked.

“Like this?“, you asked before trying to play the ball over the worlds best female footballer again. This time, you were less lucky and the ball came at the perfect height for Aitana to easily head it back to you.

“Oh no, it didn’t work.“ Julia sounded slightly disappointed.

You shrugged, trying to use the opportunity to teach your students a valuable lesson: “The good thing is, one can always try again.“

Aitana instead winked at them: “Don’t worry, I’ll teach her at home.“

Imma frowned in confusion: “At home? Do you two live together?“

“Are you stupid? She called her amor earlier!“, Jordi groaned.

The smaller girls eyes widened: “She did?“

“Yes!“

Aitana smiled at you, subtly linking your pinkies together: “She’s my best friend but also my girlfriend.“

“Oh.“ Julia made a delighted sound.

Jordi rolled his eyes: “They love each other, it’s so obvious, girls.“

And then he was back to kicking the ball around. Julia and Imma quickly chased after him, trying to get the ball.

You and your girlfriend stood in comfortable silence, still holding hands and watching the children run around you.

In this moment you were hit with the realization that this was exactly all you ever wanted from life.

[devixncy]

Can I request a Thanos x reader AU where the X voters actually win and they leave early? But the main problem is that the reader was on the games to pay off debt so she can leave her shitty parter/fiancée/spouse but now she can’t because the money wasn’t enough to pay it all off. Fortunately, Thanos and the reader grew close during the games and he knew her reason for being there, and also knew the money wouldn’t be enough. So basically post games, he runs into her and they reconnect and he absolutely beats the shit out of the reader’s awful partner (because in Thanos’s mind, anyone who hurts the reader deserves hell)

If you couldn’t tell, I’m a sucker for protective Thanos who won’t hesitate to (literally) kill a bitch haha

a/n: anon i'm sorry this took me so long, i rewrote this 6 times. SIX. (i am never satisfied with my own work LOL)

✧ pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

✧ word count: 6.1k (i'm sorry.)

✧ content: fem!reader, swearing, mentions of abuse!!, mention of drugs, violence, ooc thanos/su-bong yet again (oops), au where X voters win, partner is gn bc it wasn't specified but also realized that thanos beats they ass so...

The first day was the hardest. The sterile feel of the dormitory, the looming silence, and the constant threat of death. Nothing could prepare you for the weight of it, the brutality of it all, how you were just merely a pawn in a sick game.

You had stood lined up with the others—strangers, all of you forced into a game of life or death. None of you could fathom what was to come. The sounds of the red light/green light game still echoed in your mind, the screams, the metallic scent of blood, the bodies falling one by one.

But there was one person you noticed, even in the chaos. The purple haired rapper that you had heard the other players talking about, Thanos. He wasn’t like the others—no frantic desperation in his eyes. You had seen him after player 196 was shot in front of him. How quickly his demeanor changed once he took a pill out of his necklace; how quick he was to put others lives at stake. He breezed through the game, like it was something fun instead of something twisted and terrifying. 

You had no intention of ever speaking to him–or anyone else for that matter, unless the games required it. You felt as though you couldn’t trust anyone. There was already a divide, the vote evenly splitting the remaining players. Unfortunately, you voted to stay. It wasn’t like you wanted to, no. There was not a drop of greed in your body unlike most of the players that voted the same as you. You were drowning in debt, obviously–but it was more than that. It was debt that wasn’t your fault, but was the fault of your shitty excuse of a partner. You needed that prize money to escape from them as well, get away from the awful card you’d been dealt. 

You found yourself sitting alone in the dormitory after the vote, exhausted and anxious. Your mind raced—how would you survive this? Your previous determination was slipping away, overtaken by thoughts of self-doubt. Even if you did escape with enough money, how would you hide it from your partner? If the games disbanded early and the X voters won, would it even be enough? And what if it wasn’t?

“You’re thinking too hard, señorita,” a low voice rumbled from behind you. 

You stiffened, jolted out of your thoughts. Turning, you were startled to find Thanos standing there, his frame casting a shadow over you. He looked at you with an expression that was unreadable, his pupils blown wide. 

“You know, thinking like that can get you killed.” he said, lowering himself onto the stairs next to you. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even wait for an answer. You weren’t sure what gave him the confidence, but you could only assume it was the drugs still running through his veins. 

You scoffed, looking straight ahead. “And what would you know? You’re clearly not thinking about much of anything but yourself right now.”

He barked out a laugh, making finger guns and pretending to shoot them. “That’s how you play the game, flower. Only focusing on yourself means you’ll live.”

“Okay, is there a reason you came over here? Can I help you with something?” You asked with an eye roll, not quite sure what he wanted from you. 

“Tell you what. You stick with me, and I can keep you safe. Come join the Thanos world,” He said with a hand movement, and you turned your head to stare at him with a questioning look.

“Didn’t you just say-”

He cut you off. “Forget what I said. I don’t even remember what I said,” He responded with a stupid grin, his high still in full effect. “Look,” he said as he pointed to the blue O patch on your chest. “We’re basically already on the same team anyway. Don’t you think it would make sense?” You pursed your lips as he blabbered on.

“We’re here for very different reasons.” you murmured, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Clearly not,” he snorted, his arrogance on full display. “But if you say so, señorita. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” With a wink, he stood up and skipped off, presumably to go harass others with player 124. 

You shook your head to yourself. Why would you ever need him? 

—

The next day, during the second game, you were ashamed to have to walk up to Thanos. You felt like a dog with its tail between its legs, dragging your feet. In all fairness, you didn’t think you would need to team up so soon. And unfortunately–Thanos was the only player you had spoken to so far.

As you approached, he immediately noticed you. Turning his attention towards you, he grinned. 

“Señorita! Did you change your mind? Couldn’t resist the charm of the legend Thanos?” He gestured to himself. You internally gagged, wanting to turn around and walk away right then and there. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this because I have to.” You grumbled, while he and player 124 snickered.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. C’mon, you won’t regret it.” He threw an arm around your shoulder, and you shrugged it off. You ended up sitting with your group that was made up of Thanos, Nam-gyu, Min-su and Se-mi. 

You began to open up a little as you sat and waited for your group's turn, conversation about nothing important flowing easily (more so with the sober ones of the group). Either way, it was a welcome distraction from the gunfire and bloodshed happening around you as entire groups were gunned down. Your tense posture and slight flinching at the sounds didn’t go unnoticed by Thanos. As soon as he noticed, he put a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I said I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” He asked with a laugh, however, you caught something genuine in the tone of his voice. You looked at him and his large pupils, and as you did some of the tension released from your body. Maybe he really did mean it. 

Thankfully, your group had breezed through the six legged pentathlon. You were terrified–and being chained directly to Thanos didn’t help, considering how reckless he was. To your surprise, however, his presence was comforting. He cheered you on during your turn, giving you the confidence you needed to help advance your team. 

Then came the next vote. You voted to stay yet again, as difficult as it was. The prize money still wasn’t enough to justify switching your vote. Thanos made himself the center of the chaos as per usual, egging on the O voters and only helping to increase the tension between both sides. It was almost unbearable to watch. 

Meal time was next, and it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy your hunger. You’d been behind Thanos in line, watching as he threw his arms up in exasperation as he saw what they were offering. Once you stepped forward, you figured out why. It was a lousy piece of bread and a carton of milk. You accepted the food with a sigh, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ to the guards and turning on your heel. You walked past Thanos and the rest of your group, hearing him call out to you with one of his dumb pet names. Ignoring it, you went and sat by yourself to have some peace and quiet, wanting to be alone with your thoughts. 

Unfortunately, the universe did not have your back because minutes later, you felt a presence sit down next to you. You could see the flash of purple in your peripheral vision, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Can I help you, Thanos?” You questioned, taking a bite out of your bread. He was tapping his foot in an aggravating fashion, causing you to shoot your arm out and grab his leg. “Please stop doing that.”

“Ooo, I didn’t think we were moving that fast, señorita,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t mind, don’t worry. In fact, we could-”

You immediately put your finger up to his lips to stop him from talking. “You do not want to finish that sentence. I am not in the mood.” 

“Of course you’re not. Do you hate jokes and having fun?” he let out an exaggerated sigh, gulping down his milk. You didn’t respond, taking another bite of your food. 

“I’m kidding, relax,” He said as he noticed your silence. “Anyway, question for ya.” You didn’t respond, but motioned for him to continue. “Haven’t gotten a name from you yet. I can only come up with so many nicknames, you know?”

“That wasn’t a question,” you stated matter of factly. 

“Tch. Okay smartass.” He said, and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. His eyes lit up at the sight, and you could tell he was about to make some dumb comment. 

“It’s (Y/N).” You said before anything could leave his mouth. He was silent for a moment. 

“Hm,” he hummed, looking right at you. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” His voice was filled with nothing but sincerity, causing you to look at him with burning cheeks. “Aww, she’s blushing!” 

And he effectively ruined the moment. “Do you do this to every girl you meet?” You tilted your head questioningly. 

“No. Only the pretty ones.” He snickered, and this time you genuinely couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. You huffed, finally finishing your meal. Taking notice of the fact that Thanos somehow hadn’t yet, you raised an eyebrow. You watched as he broke a piece of his bread off, holding it out to you and gesturing for you to take it. Vehemently, you shook your head. “Come on, (Y/N),” he tested your name, waving the food in front of your face. “You need it more than I do.”

“Uh, no actually. You shouldn’t be high on an empty stomach, you eat it. I’m not taking your share.” You stated, genuinely not wanting to take it. They barely fed you all as it was, not nearly enough to be sustainable. He shrugged, popping it into his mouth with no hesitation. 

“If you say so.” He mumbled with his mouth full, causing you to scrunch your nose. 

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, your bond with the egotistical rapper was quickly growing. Never in a million years did you think he of all people would be the person you’d become the closest with. To be honest, it wasn’t like you really had a choice. He didn’t leave you alone. But you were starting to look forward to his presence—it was the only form of comfort and familiarity you had in this place. 

That same night, you sat in your bunk with your knees pulled up to your chest after lights out. The faint glow of the piggy bank was the only thing illuminating the dark room. It allowed your eyes to wander around without being too obvious, although most players were long asleep. You, however, were wide awake. That would only be prolonged when a certain someone decided to come invade your personal space. 

You almost didn’t register how your mattress dipped below the weight of another person, your unfocused gaze and scrambled thoughts making you oblivious. Your head shot up, and your body quickly relaxed once you recognized the figure on the end of your bunk. 

“Relax,” Thanos whispered as if you weren’t surrounded by people who could easily take you out. “Just me again.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? Thought the pills would have knocked you out.” You cringed as the words left your mouth, not even trying to come off as rude. He chose to ignore it, though. 

“Could ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He asked as you shrugged. 

“Can’t sleep.” You said simply, looking at him in the golden glow of the pig. 

“I noticed. That’s why I came over here,” he said as he made himself comfortable on your bunk, sitting with his legs crossed. You mirrored his movements as sitting with your knees up was becoming slightly uncomfortable. 

The two of you sat and conversed for longer than you expected. You knew it wasn’t ideal—both of you should be getting enough rest for the third game. He was very easy to talk to, you had to admit. 

“So, how did someone like you end up in a place like this, señorita?” He asked, and you had been dreading that question. You could easily lie and come up with something other than your situation, because in all honesty Thanos absolutely seemed like the gullible type. However, you had come to trust him in the short amount of time you’d known him and didn’t feel that it was necessary to lie. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your jacket, taking in a shaky breath.

“I’ve raked up a lot of debt. I know that goes for everybody here, obviously. But it wasn’t my fault,” You paused, your eyes averting to stare at the mattress. “My partner…after we started dating, they got me to move in with them. Everything was going well until then. After I moved in, they had me quit my job. Promised to “take care of me”, said I wouldn’t have to worry about working. Then they drained my account, took everything I worked for. Blew through it, left both of us with nothing,” You said as you rolled up your sleeves, showing off the fading and now yellow bruises that littered your arms. “This has been my life. Escape always felt impossible, until I was handed that card in the subway station,” You let out a humourless laugh, feeling tears sting the back of your eyes. “And that’s why I’ve been voting to stay. So I can pay off my debt, and get the hell out of there. But easier said than done, I suppose.”

Thanos was silent. The deafening silence that made you uneasy, and you almost regretted saying anything at all. You kept your eyes averted, honestly in disbelief that you had confided in him so easily. But then, you heard him slowly exhale. His hands reached over, rings brushing against your skin as he tugged your sleeves back down. His touch was gentle, hands steady—he wasn’t high. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his finger guiding your chin up so that you were looking at him. “Trust me when I say that we’re getting you out of here. And then you’re getting out of there. On my life, a hand will not be laid on you again.”

You looked at him in shock. His expression was something unreadable—but you could see the anger that lingered underneath. Never in a million years did you expect something so sincere to come out of his mouth, not from the least serious player in the games. It honestly left you feeling confused. Did he really care about you that much? You hadn’t even known each other long. 

“That’s the plan, I hope,” you said with a humorless laugh. Your stomach churned at the thought of failure, of not being able to leave. As Thanos opened his mouth to speak, you held your hand up to stop him. Talking about your situation only made the mood bleak, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

“What about you, Thanos? How’d you end up here?” You asked with a tilt of your head. He paused, dropping his hand from your chin. Thankfully, he recognized that you were redirecting the conversation. He chuckled as if the answer should be obvious.

“Blew all of my money on drugs, clubbing, clothes, shoes, you name it. Spent it on whatever I wanted. When I went through all of my money, I went to loan sharks. Started coming after me because I couldn’t pay it back. Simple as that, sweetheart,” He hesitated then, as if there were more to it. And there was. “The recruiter found me on a bridge. I was about to just end it all before he got there. So now here I am. Guess you could say he saved my life, in a way.”

Your lips parted in shock at his confession, not expecting vulnerability from him like that. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry Thanos-”

“Su-bong,” he interrupted, causing you to pause mid sentence. “My real name is Su-bong. Hearing you say Thanos just sounds strange.”

Slowly, you nodded. “If you say so, Su-bong.” You spoke unsurely, his name sounding foreign on your tongue. 

“That’s more like it,” he said with an encouraging grin. “I like the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth much more than Thanos.” He winked, causing your cheeks to burn. You smacked his leg and he laughed, causing a nearby player to tell him to “shut the fuck up”.

That night, Su-bong had fallen asleep on your bunk. Neither of you meant for it to happen, however exhaustion had hit both of you hard seemingly out of nowhere. He actually had fallen asleep mid conversation; you had asked him a question and got nothing but snoring as a response. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up and kick him off, so you let him sleep at the end of your bunk. Shortly after he passed out, you followed suit, curled up at the head of your bed. If you were being honest with yourself, it was the safest you’d felt in a while. 

When you awoke the next morning, Su-bong was already up and gone. You did take notice of the blanket covering your body that wasn’t there when you had fallen asleep, though. The gesture was sweet, something you weren’t used to. It warmed your heart, but guilt started to creep in at the same time–even though it shouldn’t. 

“The third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.” 

You sighed, swinging your legs over the side of your bunk and standing up along with all of the other players. Making your way into the center of the room and into the crowd, you immediately made your way towards the easily recognizable mess of purple hair. He was standing with Nam-gyu, surely doing something stupid, and as you got closer you could instantly recognize that they were high. Your smile faltered slightly, but you shook it off as you approached. If he needed it to get through the games, so be it. 

Su-bong noticed you immediately, a grin adorning his face. “Señorita! There you are!” 

You chuckled, falling into step with him as you headed towards the stairs to the game arena. “Good to see you too, Su-bong.” As his name left your mouth, Nam-gyu immediately threw a questioning look towards him. Su-bong noticed and threw his hand up, accidentally smacking Nam-gyu in the face with it. He slung his other arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. You weren’t entirely sure if it was affection or for his own benefit, considering his noticeably unsteady steps.

During the game–which ended up being mingle–had to be the most terrified you’d felt in your time there. This was a game where desperation reared its head, players shoving and ripping each other away to ensure their spot in a room. The entire time, much to your relief, Su-bong stuck with you. Your wrist was constantly in his grip so that he didn’t lose you. He almost had, during the final round. He chose you over Nam-gyu, dragging you towards a room with a speed you didn’t know was possible. Someone had grabbed the back of your tracksuit jacket before you got in the room, trying to rip you away from safety. Su-bong was extremely quick to react, even while high, and ripped the other player away from you with a strength you didn’t know he had. Besides that minor incident, the game had gone as good as it could’ve–although your tremors had yet to slow down. 

Upon heading back to the dormitory, you nervously waited for the vote to be cast yet again. Your hands shook, still slightly shaken up. Su-bong stayed by your side, his arm brushing against yours. There were only 100 players left, and the prize money was at 356,000,000 won. It was almost enough. Almost.

You placed your vote, yet again voting to stay. You stood on the O side, arms crossed across your chest. Watching as Su-bong skipped up to the booth and smashed his lips onto the O button, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He scampered over to you immediately, then changed direction and pushed his way towards the back. You paid no mind, feeling too much anxiety about the vote to pay attention. However, you could faintly hear him and Nam-gyu starting to harass Min-su into voting to play another game. To their dismay, he didn’t. Nam-gyu, who voted after him, was noticeably unhappy. You weren’t thrilled either at the thought of losing a vote, but you couldn’t blame him. 

Down to the final vote, you held your breath. The vote was currently tied. Deep down, part of you knew that this was it and you weren’t winning this. Accepting it was a different story. As player 001 walked up to the booth, your hands clenched into fists. Su-bong, who was next to you, took notice and grabbed one of your hands. He ran his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Don’t worry, señorita. We’re going to win this vote.” He said it with too much confidence. Time stood still as player 001 made it to the booth, pausing before he made his decision. The red X button illuminated, changing the vote from a tie. Immediately, cheers erupted from the X voters. It was decided. 

The sound of the final vote echoed in your ears, muffled and distant, like you were trapped underwater. The games were over. You were going home.

Your chest tightened. Your breath hitched. No. No, no, no—

You could hear the other players on your side reacting around you. But their voices barely registered. The moment the vote was cast, your body locked up, panic surging through your veins. 

This was supposed to be your way out, the only way you’d be able to pay all of your debt and get your own place to leave your partner. Now, you weren’t sure what you would do. 

Your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your palms as you stared blankly ahead. You had spent the past few days convincing yourself that you just had to survive. Just win. Just hold on long enough, and then you’d be free. Free from the debt. Free from the hands that grabbed too tightly, from the voice that spat venom at you whenever you spoke out of turn.

But you weren’t free. You were going back to them.

Your breathing grew shallow. Your vision blurred at the edges. The world felt too small, suffocating you as the reality of your situation settled in. You knew you were perhaps being irrational, not thinking clearly—but it was hard not to. 

A firm grip on your wrist yanked you back to the present. You flinched, expecting the worst, but when you looked up, it wasn’t them. It was Su-bong.

His grip was solid, grounding. “Breathe,” he murmured. 

You shook your head wildly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I-it’s not enough money, Su-bong. What am I supposed to do?” 

Something dark flickered in his gaze. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed around your wrist before slowly releasing you. 

“Don’t worry. I’m going to come find you, no matter what it takes.” He promised, but in the moment it felt empty. You couldn’t even respond, your thoughts racing as the dormitory became chaotic. The guards were saying something but you couldn’t even listen.

Suddenly, you could hear a hissing sound. Smoke began to spill out of all of the vents, quickly filling the dormitory. You brought your hands up and gripped Su-bong’s wrists, everything becoming hazy. The last thing you saw was his face, and the last thing you heard was his voice.

“You hear me? I will find my way to you.” Then everything went dark. 

—-

As you expected, life outside of the games hadn’t gotten any better. The games had been disbanded for almost a month now, and nothing had changed. You were miserable, still burdened by your remaining debt and toxic partner. 

They hadn’t let go of the fact that you had disappeared without a trace for three days, only to show up again in the dead of night. It was dangled above your head, used as a way to manipulate and guilt trip you. You felt lost, hopeless even.

Your mind was still plagued by Su-bong. You wondered how he was faring after being granted freedom. His promise to find you hadn’t come to fruition yet, but you still clung to it–it was the only thing keeping you going. But until then, you lived your life in misery.

You had convinced your partner to let you pick up a part time job at a local convenience store. It had taken a lot of convincing, because they were sure you were going to disappear again. But you pressed, telling them it was just to get some extra money, promising to get them whatever they wanted with it. In reality, you didn’t care about that. You wanted an escape, to be able to go somewhere where you weren’t constantly scrutinized. And thankfully, it worked. 

Late night shifts were your favorite. It was the only sliver of peace you had–where the streets were empty, where you could breathe, if only for a moment.

That’s where you were now, walking home from work, the cold biting at your skin. The chill didn’t bother you–in fact, it seemed to keep you grounded, stopping you from getting into your own head. The silence was welcome, nobody around to bother you. But that’s when you felt it.

A presence. 

It was subtle at first, something you could easily shrug off. Then, you heard footsteps. Directly behind you. 

Your breath caught, heart racing. You had to keep moving. Ducking into the nearest alley, you turned the corner almost too fast, nearly losing your footing. You didn’t dare to look back.  You weren’t sure who was behind you, but paranoia told you it was your partner. They had warned you. Told you they’d be watching. That if you ever even thought about running—

A hand closed around your wrist. You gasped, your fight or flight response kicking in. Before you could do anything, whether it be scream, fight or run–you were spun around.

Your mind took an extra second to catch up with your body, not registering who was in front of you. But when you caught a glimpse of purple hair, the chain around his neck, the ear piercing–your eyes widened. 

Su-bong.

The adrenaline left your body, your tense posture sagging with relief. You only stared at him, unable to form words, in disbelief that he was in front of you. But he spoke before you could. He lazily grinned at you, holding his arms out and gesturing to himself.

“I told you I’d find you.” He said, and hearing his voice set something off in your head. You wasted no time in throwing your arms around him. He reciprocated, his arms immediately snaking around you tightly. 

“Oh my god, you have no idea how happy I am to see you and hear your voice.” You admitted quietly, and he chuckled. After a moment he pulled back, holding your shoulders at arm's length. His eyes raked over your form, his smile slipping away as he took in your exhausted appearance. His smile disappeared further at the fact that you had tried to run, thinking he was someone more dangerous. 

“Did you think I was someone else?” He asked with a tilt of his head, and you swallowed hard. 

“Yeah..” you whispered, knowing there was no point in lying. He already knew your situation. 

He frowned, watching as you nervously played with the ends of your sleeves. Anger bubbled in his chest, easily interpreting what was going on. “You’re still there, aren’t you?” He murmured. Slowly, you nodded.

“...I’m still there, Su-bong,” you admitted, slightly ashamed. “I’m still not financially stable enough to get out and get my own place. Not with the debt I have, too.” You could feel his grip tighten at your words. Thankfully, he didn’t press, but his next words made you stiffen.

“Let me walk you home. That’s where you were going, right?” 

“Yes,” you said, hesitating as you chose your next words. “You can walk me home. But that’s it.” You warned, knowing he had some kind of underlying intention. He nodded, the grin returning to his face. 

“That’s all I need, señorita,” he slung an arm around your shoulder. “Such a pretty flower shouldn’t have to walk home by herself in the dark, anyway.” He began to walk, pulling you along with him. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but smiled–that was such a Thanos thing to say. 

Your walk back to your apartment was peaceful. But as soon as you reached the building, the atmosphere shifted. You turned to Thanos, and he looked down at you. You offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmured, and he nodded. He took his phone out of his back pocket, pulling up a new contact before handing the device to you. 

“Put your number in. Please,” He said as you took his phone from him. You typed your number in, and then to lighten the mood, you set your contact name as Player 243. Handing it back, you watched him shake his head. “You’re something else.”

“I try,” you said with a laugh. Then, you took a step back from him, signaling you were about to make your way to your apartment. “Goodbye, Su-bong.” You said, a warning edge to your voice. He grabbed your hand before you could get too far, lifting it up and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your heart skipped a beat, face heating up. 

“See you later, (Y/N).” He said, letting go of your hand. He gestured for you to ascend the stairs, and you did. You didn’t disappear until you made sure he turned his back to leave the complex.

Sighing in relief, you slowly made your way to your door. It wasn’t like you actually wanted him to leave–you just didn’t want more unnecessary problems. You wanted to be smart about this. Pulling out your keys, you fiddled to find the correct one. As you moved to put it in the lock, you paused. 

“Su-bong,” you whispered, your eye twitching. “What did I tell you?” Looking over your shoulder, you shot him a glare.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around and avoiding your gaze like he had no clue what you were talking about. You had to give it to him, though, he seemed to materialize out of thin air. For someone who was typically so loud, he knew how to move silently when he wanted to. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said as he finally met your eyes. His expression softened. “Come on. Did you really think I was gonna let you go in here alone? Especially with the way you acted earlier?”

You only rolled your eyes. “What exactly is your plan here?” You asked while pushing the door open slightly, signaling for him to be quiet. Unfortunately, the universe hated you. 

“Maybe beat some ass–I mean talk some sense–into someone.” Su-bong responded nonchalantly. But his voice was a little too loud. 

“Who the fuck is at the door?” A voice slurred from inside, causing your stomach to drop. You were so screwed. 

You barely had time to react before Thanos reached forward, pushing the door open wider with one hand.

Your partner stumbled out into the entryway, rubbing their eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar figure now standing in their doorway. Confusion twisted into irritation. Then into anger.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Su-bong didn’t answer. He just stared, gaze cold and unreadable. It was like a switch flipped, his chill demeanor disappearing in an instant. 

Your partner sneered, stepping closer to you. "You screwing around on me, huh? That what this is?" They turned their glare on you, their lip curling. “You brought him here, didn’t you? You really think some asshole off the street can save you—”

A loud crack echoed through the apartment. It happened so fast, you barely registered it. 

Su-bong’s fist connected with your partner’s jaw, sending them sprawling backward. They hit the floor with a thud, groaning.

It was like something took over him, rage consuming his whole body. Before your partner could recover, Su-bong was on top of him. 

“You fucked up. You think you’re tough, treating a defenseless girl like that?” Su-bong spoke calmly–but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. It was a warning. 

Your partner sneered, rolling their eyes. “I don’t know who you think you are, man. But stay the fuck out of it.” They tried to shove him off. Before you could even blink, Su-bong struck again. His fist connected with their face–a hit that knocked the arrogance straight out of them. He channeled his blinding anger into every hit laid into your partner. His fists quickly became bloodied. Each hit was filled with fury; he wasn’t just fighting, he was punishing. 

“You like keeping her scared, don’t you?” Su-bong snarled between punches, eyes dark. “Makes you feel powerful. Makes you feel big.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Pathetic.”

You watched with a hand over your mouth, torn between horror, relief and some dark sense of satisfaction. No one had ever stood up for you like this. But as you watched, you realized he had no intention of stopping–you had to intervene before he literally killed them. 

“Su-bong,” Your voice was quiet, but he heard you loud and clear as he paused. “Please.” You whispered, a plea to stop only because you were worried about him. You didn’t want this to get him in trouble. He exhaled slowly, but wasn’t done yet. He grabbed your partner’s collar, bringing their bloodied face closer to his.

In a low, chilling tone, he delivered an ultimatum. “If you ever come near her again, I promise that I will finish what I started. Are we clear?” They nodded frantically, and he slammed them back to the floor. Su-bong got to his feet, finally turning towards you. His eyes softened upon landing on your shocked form. “C’mon,” He started casually, wiping his hands on his pants. “Let’s go get your stuff and get out of here.” You nodded, trying to will your legs to move. 

After the events that had transpired, you ended up in Su-bong’s apartment. You brought as many of your belongings with you as you could, with the promise that you could stay with him for as long as necessary. While he helped you get settled into his guest room, you tried to come up with the right words. You hadn’t spoken about what had just happened, how he almost just killed for you. You stopped what you were doing, watching him for a moment. He sat on the bed, his long legs dangling off the edge. 

“Hey,” You called out, and he stopped whatever he was doing to look at you. “I never thanked you,” you said softly. “I don’t think I would’ve made it out of there without you.” 

He reached out and grabbed your arms, pulling you towards him so that you were standing between his legs. “You don’t have to thank me,” He murmured, cupping your face with his hands. “I was just doing the right thing. I would’ve never let you walk in there alone, you know that. You never deserved that. I just want to make sure you’re happy.” 

And you smiled, the first genuine smile you’d shown in weeks. He grinned, running his thumb across your cheek. “That smile looks good on you, señorita,” He whispered, standing up and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Your cheeks burned, not used to being complimented after being degraded for so long. “You should get some rest, flower. If you need anything you know where to find me.” You nodded and he left the room, giving you some space. You sat down on the bed and smiled to yourself.

Your heart was full; for the first time in a very long time, you finally felt completely safe. You knew you weren’t alone anymore. 

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT 'TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase four:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: none!

➴ word count: 3.4k

💌 from me to you: if any of you can tell me how many times i mention nico’s dimples in this series i’ll give you a chocolate bar for xmas (or just a chocolate bar if you don’t celebrate xmas. or just a hug if you don’t like chocolate).

𖧷

emmaroberts

liked by miaturner, lhughes_06, trevorzegras and 3,982 others

emmaroberts i don’t think i’ve changed one bit but somehow the calendar says it’s my birthday today so here goes nothing i guess. happy 24 to me

View all 110 comments

lhughes_06 Happy birthday Em x

emmaroberts lhughes_06 thanks duke

user1 HAPPY EMMA DAY

elladavis happy birthday my sweet, sweet emma. i love you so much and i hope you have the best, most wonderful day ever. i’m sorry i can’t be with you today, but i’ll be thinking of you all day 🤍

emmaroberts elladavis i love you so much

nataliebrooks Happy birthday my love 💙 Sending you many hugs and kisses!

emmaroberts nataliebrooks we miss u

miaturner HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE 24 YEARS OF SERVING CUNT AND MAKING BITCHES MAD ‼️

user2 miaturner there are people like natalie and ella and then there are people like mia 😭💀

emmaroberts miaturner i love you lmfaoooo

njdevils Happy Birthday! 😈❤️

ninahischier I love you like a sister. Happy birthday Em! 💜

emmaroberts ninahischier i love you. thank u!!

user3 🎂🎉

nicohischier Happy birthday Em 🥳

emmaroberts nicohischier thanks mr hischier :))

jackhughes you’re getting old

emmaroberts jackhughes i’m starting to understand mia

miaturner emmaroberts 🤗

𖧷

TURNING TWENTY four is weird, and you have to spend a few moments just laying in bed to let it really sink in— it’s not as weird as turning twenty but it’s weird anyway.

You should be happy, and you are, but you’re also feeling like you’re not getting anywhere. You love your job, you love your friends and you love your life. Yet, all you seem to do is live for others and not for yourself.

This whole fake-dating thing really got to your head and as you make yourself breakfast, pancakes drowning in syrup and an iced latte, you question yourself if you should keep going with this.

It’s not making you feel great. You’re lying to hundreds of people, and you’re also lying to Nico in some kind of way.

Sure, the plan’s working— Nora’s now moved on to commenting on Nico’s posts on Instagram, which made him content— and Nico seems satisfied but then what?

You keep replying to the kiss you both shared in your head, and even though you know you shouldn’t, you do it anyway. The way his lips brushed against yours, the way his hands held you, gentle and secure at the same time.

And the look he gave you afterwards. Lord.

You keep asking yourself what would’ve happened if Nora hadn’t approached you. Would he have said anything? Would he have looked at you like he regretted it?

Inside your head, there’s a million ways of how things would’ve gone. And it’s tiring, honestly. Living inside your head is so exhausting and still, you can't seem to move on.

The pancake fills your mouth with sweetness and you sigh, closing your eyes slowly. Breathing in and out, you decide not to let these thoughts ruin your day. Turning twenty-four is a blessing and you should be grateful, no matter what. Your day should be spent in peace and quietness.

You finish eating your plate of pancakes and you swear to yourself you’re never making a whole plate of pancakes for you again— it’s a lie and it will happen again— because you’ve never felt so full. You change into your work clothes while you answer your parents’ call, smiling when they start to sing the happy birthday song and send you thousands and thousands of kisses and blessings.

It’s a tradition; they call you every year to do the same thing, even when you’re near them. This year they won’t be coming back home until Christmas, so the call will have to do it.

After chatting with them for a bit, you tell them goodbye and grab your purse and notebooks, ready to go to work. Or, at least that’s what you intended to do, which turns out to be impossible when a very perfect, very handsome Nico Hischier is standing in front of you.

“Nico?” You say it louder than you probably should at seven thirty in the morning but it’s not really your fault. He did scare you. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting to see you. Hi.”

He gives you one of those dimple-y smiles and leans down to kiss your cheek. “Happy birthday, Em.”

You smile, still feeling the warmth of his kiss on your cheeks. It’s the first time you’re seeing each other after that one night at Prudential Center and you’re glad he’s not making it weird.

Which can also mean that the kiss didn’t mean anything to him; not as much as it did to you anyway.

And it’s fine. We’re fine, you remind yourself.

“You got up at seven a.m. to come all the way here and wish me a happy birthday?” You chuckle, closing the door behind you and getting outside with him, the cold breeze makes you shiver slightly.

“Yeah, and I’m also taking you somewhere today so you probably should put on some winter clothes.”

You frown, sad to have to turn him down.

“I really wish I could, Nico,” you tilt your head. “But I have work… I’ll be free after two p.m. though, if that’s still okay.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Did you know that you can get a lot of things when you’re the captain of the city’s NHL team?” he leans on your closed door, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I get free coffee all the time, which is weird because— why are they handing out free coffee to a rich guy?”

“Nico…”

“I get discounts sometimes too, which Nina and Mom love. And now, I got something really cool too,” he grins, white teeth shining. “Wanna know what?”

“I don’t really have time, Nico—”

“Ask me what.”

You sigh, giving up and putting your arms down. Smiling, defeated, you nod. “What did you get, Nico?”

“Well, I got you a day off.” You stop smiling, and your eyes double in size.

You like your boss, you really do, but if there’s something he can’t stand is people missing work days for minimal reasons. And as much as you hate it, birthdays are in his list of “minimal reasons”.

So ever since you’ve started working for him, you haven’t missed a day of work because it was your birthday. And now Nico is here, standing in front of you and telling you that—

“What,” you frown. “Mr. Campbell would’ve never let me have a day off on my birthday. Are you sure you spoke to him?” you ask. “Did the person on the phone sound like a baby who has a cold? Because if that’s the case than you spoke to John and not Mr.—”

“Emma,” he uncrossed his arms and leaned closer to you, looking down. “I am sure I spoke with your boss. He sounds like Jimmy Fallon.”

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “Am I going to lose my job? Nico, wait— that’s really, really, nice and I’m flattered but I’m not exactly rich like you and I really like my job so—”

“Stop freaking out,” he puts his hands on your shoulder. “It wasn’t for free. He asked for ten free tickets for the next Devils game, one signed jersey and a photo with me.”

What.

“What?!” you almost shouted. “That’s— Nico!”

He grabs your house key from your hands and opens your front door again, getting inside while you stand outside, astonished.

“It’s no biggie, I swear,” he opens the door wider. “Come on. Go change into something warmer. It’s going to be cold today.”

𖧷

WHEN NICO said “it’s going to be cold today”, you didn’t expect him to mean it quite literally.

“I’m freezing.” You complain, already outside of his car, shaking like a leaf. You have your beanie, your gloves and your warmest coat on but it’s still. Cold.

“I told you that it was cold outside. You Americans are so stubborn sometimes…” he mutters under his breath before grabbing a Nico sized coat from his backseat and handing it to you. “Put it on.”

You stare at the coat in his hands before sighing and giving in, for the nth time in just one hour. Nico Hischier can definitely get what he wants, always.

Fortunately, his coat is enough to make you stop shivering, so you just keep your complaints to yourself.

“Where are we, exactly?” You ask, looking around.

It was some kind of forest, but with a wooden pathway that led to somewhere you couldn’t see. The floor was mostly covered with snow, and so were the trees and the wood on the floor.

“This is one of my favorite places here in Newark,” he starts walking, and you walk faster to catch up with him. “I come here sometimes but since I get busy during winter it’s been a while since my last time here.”

“Mhm.”

“Thought you would like it, though.” He laughs and before you can ask what he means, the view in front of you takes your breath away.

It’s a beautiful, giant frozen lake. There are hundreds of trees surrounding it, pine trees to be exact, all of which are covered in pure, soft snow. The floor is also white as pearls and the lake is the most gorgeous shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

You turn around to face Nico, still speechless, and you can’t help but smile widely when you spot the two pairs of skates in his hands.

And then, you remember, one year ago when you had this one conversation with him.

“It’s still amazing to me how fast you guys are.” You say, amused with how fast the players on the TV are.

Nico gives you a warm, shy smile, and his cinnamon eyes are shining the way they always do whenever he talks about Hockey.

“I think we’re alright.” It’s what he says.

You scoff. “I wish I was ‘alright’ like you,” you make air quotes. “I can barely stand on the ice, let alone skate like you do.”

“I’m sure you’re not that bad…” he tries to sound nice, and you laugh.

“Last time I was on the ice I sent myself and a little kid to the hospital. Both with a broken bone.”

Nico tries to hide his horror but you can tell how shocked he is just by the look on his face. It’s funny, so you just keep laughing.

“But it would be really fun to try it again, now that I’m older.” You say, mindlessly, and he hums, going back to watching the game in front of you.

“You… you remembered.”

It’s shocking that he remembered a conversation you both had more than twelve months ago, but what’s even more shocking is the fact that he decided to act on it, instead of just… well. Ignoring it.

“Of course I did,” he grins, handing you the smaller pair of skates. “I just thought it’d be fun for you to do something like this on your birthday. Let me know if I’m wrong, though…”

He looks unsure and so freaking cute.

I’d love to kiss him again.

“You’re not,” you reassure him, leaning on a tree to put on the skates. “It’s probably going to be embarrassing though. You’re a professional skater and I write columns for a living.”

“Today, I’m not a professional skater,” he also starts untying his shoes to put on his skates. They look a lot like the ones he wears to his games. “I’m just Nico.”

“Usually when I skate, I like to, you know, let go of the tree branches and… well, skate.”

“I’m trying, Nico, I swear I am but maybe I’m not meant for this.”

“Emma—”

“Maybe? Pfft,” you humorless laugh while you hold on the tree for dear life, panicking a little bit more every time you remind yourself there’s literally a lake under you. It’s frozen and beautiful but still a lake nonetheless. “I know that I’m not meant for this. Let’s just go back to your car and go watch a movie.”

“Emma,” Nico smiles, kindness and patience coming out of his pores. “Let go of the tree. You’ll be fine, I’m here.”

“You’re, like, ten feet away from me, so you won’t be of any help. Thanks, but I’ll be staying here. I’m fine with watching you tho— what are you doing?”

He’s skating in your direction, and before you can even comprehend what he’s doing, he’s standing in front of you, dimples on display for you to admire.

“You said I was too far away. Am I close enough now?”

His chest is touching yours yet it still doesn’t feel like he’s close enough.

“I-I guess.”

“Then, let’s go,” he holds your right hand and slowly removes your left one from the tree. Now you’re just relying on him, entirely. “People will start arriving soon and then we won’t have the entire lake for ourselves.”

He’s skating backwards while holding your hands, and you’re slowly following him. It’s scary, especially when you can feel the ice beneath your feet crack slightly. It’s not alarming nor dangerous yet you’re still so freaking terrified.

“You’re doing really great, Em.”

His praise makes you blush, but you’re blessed by the fact that your cheeks were already red with the cold.

Skating with him is fun, and not as bad as you thought it would be. He’s patient and gentle, his words of encouragement make you braver and braver, and suddenly you’re skating by yourself, even if it’s just for a few seconds.

You are laughing, you are happy and you are grateful.

And Nico… Nico’s just amazing. Your heart keeps jumping inside your chest whenever he gets too close, and when he holds you tightly, you’re almost sure you’re going to explode.

One hour later, when you’re in his car, warm and cozy, you can’t stop smiling, shaking your right leg, or humming to the pop song playing on his radio.

“Did you like it?” He sounds just like before, unsure and nervous.

You chuckle, turning your body around and leaning closer to his, placing a light kiss on his cheek. “It was amazing. Thank you, Nico.”

“I think we should kiss right now.” He blurts out of nowhere, and you laugh, thinking he’s joking.

“There’s no one looking.” You answer, blinking twice.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, placing one hand on your neck, so close to you that his nose is touching yours. You hold your breath. “We’re practicing.”

His lips press against yours for the second time in your life and it's magical, and it feels like the most right thing you've ever done in your entire life.

His tongue caresses yours, and you whimper inside his mouth, grabbing the car seat with your left hand, looking for some kind of support.

You’re in heaven and in hell at the same time.

𖧷

TO YOUR ultimate surprise, Nico spends the rest of the day with you.

He takes you to your favorite coffee shop, your favorite restaurant and your favorite bookstore— the same as Mia’s—, pays for everything— which kind of makes you upset, but you don’t do anything other than pout and accept the gifts.

You keep asking him if you’re bothering him, or if he’s got anywhere else to be or someone more important to meet, and he keeps giving you the same answer.

“We’re both adults and we both have jobs so if you have to go I’ll understand—” You say, for what’s probably the twelfth time since you got out of the restaurant.

“Em,” he pokes your cheek with his index finger and then puts a strand of your hair behind your ear. You try not to shiver with his touch. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s your day.”

And it feels so nice. Not only because he took a day off to be with you, but because Nico’s a nice person. He’s fun, he makes you laugh, he listens to your rambling without looking away even just once.

Nora’s so lucky. And she doesn’t even know it.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to go home, no?” He blurts out of nowhere, and you stop taking pictures of the flowers decorating an old lady’s balcony to look at him.

You blush. “Sure— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take this long but,” you turn your head around again, staring at the tulips in front of you. “They’re just so pretty.”

“They are, yeah,” he nods, putting his hands inside his pocket. “But it’s getting late and you’re probably tired.”

You are tired, but you would stay twelve more hours awake if it meant looking at the handsome man standing in front of you. Since you couldn’t tell him that, you just nod and follow him to his car, sad that the day’s already almost over.

He drives smoothly back to your place, and you enjoy the quietness. It’s something that you’ve never experienced with someone who isn't your friend— this comfortable silence. Nico has his way of comforting you even when he’s silent and, honestly? That’s a hell of a talent.

When he parks in front of your house, you hold in a sigh, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

“Thank you for today, Nico,” you smile. “It meant a lot to me.”

He smiles back. “No need to say thank you, I enjoyed it as much as you did.”

You’re about to leave the car when he grabs your wrist, holding you in place. “Yeah?” you ask him, curious of what more he could possibly have to say.

“Can I use your bathroom, though? All that coffee drinking is catching up to me right now.”

You chuckle, nodding your head. “Of course. Come on.”

You walk out of his car and look for your keys inside your purse, moving as fast as you could so that Nico wouldn’t have to wait even more time.

You open your door and let him inside your house, before turning the lights on and—

“Surprise!”

You let out the loudest, most embarrassing scream of your life, and you move to hold Nico’s arms so fast it’s actually quite amusing. Your living room had been transformed entirely and now it had balloons, a sign that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, EMMA!”, confetti everywhere and lots of people.

You hear their laughs and you cringe at yourself, letting go of Nico’s arms and staring at your friends. Mia, Ella, Luke, Jack, and—

“Natalie?!” you shout, staring at the woman in front of you. That’s when you realize Quinn is also here which only means that they flew together from Vancouver to New Jersey. “Oh my God!”

You run to her arms and later it’s a four person hug, with Mia and Ella joining you and Natalie. You love them so much sometimes you think you’re going to explode, and you’re so happy that they are here, with you.

Your eyes are wet with tears when you let go of them but it’s fine— so are theirs.

“I can’t believe you’re all here…” you murmur, wiping your tears. “You… who even planned all of this? I’m—”

“For that you’d have to thank your amazing boyfriend.” Natalie answers and you’re about to ask her “what do you mean” when you remember.

Nico.

You turn around, staring at the man who’s now leaning against your wall and smiling at you.

Nico did this. Nico planned a whole surprise party for you.

“Oh,” you whisper. “Thank you, huh, baby.”

It’s not as natural as you would like it to be, but since everyone thinks you’re overwhelmed with the attention, no one notices or says anything.

“You’re welcome, Em.”

“Well,” Natalie coughs. “Mia did say you’re disgusting together. I see that.”

You all laugh, and you move on to greeting the rest of the people there. You spend a long time deciding what you’re going to order for dinner, and then you spend even more time chatting with Natalie and Quinn about Vancouver.

“It’s still so weird to see the two of you together, like, how did this,” you point to the two of them, who were sitting beside each other on your couch, while you were sitting on the carpet. “Even happened?”

“Well—”

“You see—” They both talk at the same time before looking at each other.

“Go ahead—”

“No, it’s okay—”

You watch them go back and forth with this for a while before you interrupted them again. “So. How did it happen guys?” you chuckle.

“Quinn’s team, the Canucks, work with my dad, and since he wants me to, you know, work for the NHL next year, he ended up introducing us.” Natalie says, cheeks so red it has you confused. “Not us like me and Quinn. Us like me and the Canucks.”

“I get it,” you smile. “It’s just such a coincidence, don’t you guys think? I mean, what are the chances, right?”

“Right.” Quinn’s the one to answer this time and you can’t help but laugh at how awkwardly sweet he is.

The food arrives— pizza and garlic bread— and you all chat while you eat. Your house is loud with laughter, music and talking, but you couldn’t be happier. You catch Nico looking at you from the other side of the room and you smile even wider at him.

“Thank you.” You mouth, and he just mouths back:

“You’re welcome.”

𖧷

𖧷

𖧷

𖧷

emmaroberts

liked by dawson1417, _quinnhughes, miaturner and 4,012 others

emmaroberts bday girl got a surprise bday party. i’m the bday girl btw. thank u all!

View all 200 comments

user1 IS THAT NICO BEHIND EMMA??????

user2 user1 well i know for a fact that the man behind her in the 1st pic is jack

user3 that’s nico hischier behind her !!

miaturner i love you and im still sorry for ruining your birthday cake

user4 miaturner i know the chances of u seeing this are low but what did you do??

miaturner user4 threw it on jack’s face

user4 miaturner WHAT

lhughes_06 💪🏻🎉

tmeier96 Happy birthday little Emma!

elladavis 🤍

user5 Nico behind Emma is sooo cute !!!

user6 user5 We don’t know if that’s Nico.

user7 user6 girl wdym it’s literally him he posted 2 photos of her today on his story

user6 user7 Okay, and that still doesn’t prove anything!

user7 user6 girl bye

user8 user6 so there’s this one river in egypt…

user9 i wanna a friendship like theirs so bad :(

<next chapter>

[iouinotes]

Heartbeat | Seth Cohen

pairing: Seth Cohen x female!reader

show: o.c California

warnings: kissing, arguments,

summary: Seth is your best friend and he's trying everything to win Summer's heart. You on the other hand would do anything to win his heart and make it beat for you.

author's note: I'm probably the last person on earth who hasn't watched this series. But hey, new potential for ff. By the way, please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks his voice sounds like Dylan O'Briens...

The way I love him is like the waves on the open sea on a beautiful day.

While the sun shines on my skin and my bikini slips slightly, revealing my sun-kissed skin, I try to secretly look at him.

The way his brown curls are wet from the blue sea or how his muscles tense as he pulls his shirt over his head.

I hear a sigh of relief escape from his mouth and have to giggle to keep myself from laughing at his swimming trunks.

Showing one of his cartoon characters, red and dark tones that highlight his pale skin even more.

And when he turns his head and smiles at me, relaxed in a way, as if there were only the two of us in the whole world, he has never looked more beautiful to me.

"Are you daydreaming, sunshine?" Oh, his teasing voice and that look in his eyes- what wouldn't I give to finally have him for myself.

"You'd like to know, Cohen." I grin slightly at him as I answer him. His raised eyebrows and the heat around us make my head spin.

"Okay, let me guess. Are you thinking about the party tonight at my parents' house and what you want to wear?" For a moment he looks out to the sea, reassuring himself that we are safe, until he finally lies down next to me with his arms outstretched above his head.

Rolling my eyes, I quickly answer him.

"Girls don't just think about parties and dresses, idiot." His brown eyes, which are now looking at me invitingly, make the butterflies fly around in my stomach.

"But was I right?" When I try to turn his head away with my hand, he holds mine tightly. But immediately afterwards he strokes my skin tenderly and my thoughts need a moment to sort themselves out.

"Whatever. And just because you started it, I'm going to wear my new blue dress. The one I brought to your room earlier, remember?" The triumphant smile on his face is worth every single word.

For a few seconds, all I can hear is the cries of the seagulls and the sound of the waves. I'm almost starting to doze off when his voice rings out again.

But this time my joy is dampened by his next sentence.

"Today is the day, you know? I'm pretty sure Summer will at least remember my first name by the end of the night." The sinking of my heart feels almost too painful to answer to him.

What else did I expect? Summer has been on his mind for years, every minute of the day since he first saw her.

Seth, on the other hand, has been in my heart since the first time we met. On a rainy day at a skate park, while I was just lost and he was practicing his tricks.

To this day, I can remember the moment when his brown eyes became the most beautiful sight in the world for me.

Nothing has changed ever since.

"Yeah, sure." It's always the same. His never-ending crush on her, the ever-growing hope that is destroyed with each and every one of her withering glances. The dejection in his eyes, as if his happiness would melt away as soon as she was near him.

I can never do anything about it. Because no matter how many times she ignores him or puts him down, her attention is the spark in his heart that never extinguishes.

Because what can I do? Summer is pretty, sassy and popular in our social circle. She makes every boy weak in the knees, worshiping her even though she never shows serious interest.

Seth is blind to it too, he just wants her attention. That she remembers how his name is.

I know his name. His favorite comics. His hatred towards bad movies or his nervous habit of talking endlessly without it making actual sense. I know his sarcasm, his heartbreaks, and his commitment to dreams.

But that doesn't seem to be enough. Because when he looks at her, he sees the sun. I, on the other hand, am a small star that doesn't shine bright enough to be noticed.

So as we fall into silence and I try to suppress my sadness about my unrequited love, he hums softly next to me.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

When we return from our little trip at sea, the sun is almost setting. My gaze falls to the floor and as I listen to his excited voice, I wonder how it would feel to hold his hand.

As we walk up the stairs to his room and I greet his father as I pass, I recognize the look in his eyes as he opens the door for me.

"Oh come on Seth. It can't be healthy for you to think about her for every free second of your day." With a sigh, he throws himself onto his bed with his back showing to me.

"I just wonder why she doesn't see my potential. I would be a great boyfriend."

Yes, for me.

"That's probably because you follow her around like a lost puppy. Compared to the water polo guys, that's a drastic difference."

When I carefully take my dress down from his door that I hung there a few hours ago, his eyes clouded with pity follow me.

A little ritual for us before every big celebration. Getting ready together, like boyfriend and girlfriend. But I immediately push the thought away.

"But everyone likes puppies. At some point she'll look at me and realize that we would make a great couple." Shaking my head, I pat him on the shoulder.

"Everyone has their dreams, Cohen." I meet his gaze as he thoughtfully glances back at me, suddenly meeting my eyes with a newfound interest.

"What are you dreaming about?" The curiosity in his my voice makes me smile.

"Well, it may be a bit cheesy but I wish for… a person." At my words his eyebrows raise and as he sits up straight, I suddenly feel constricted.

"One person for...what? Carrying your bags while you're shopping? I'm already in charge of that." Laughing, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I didn't mean that. Even though that's nice, no argument there. No, I mean a person with whom I can experience my first times. You know, the first date, the first romantic kiss. The first vacation shared together...the first time sleeping together, feeling each others heartbeates. That's what I dream of."

As I finish my last sentence, I look at his face. See his rude stare and his open mouth.

"Wow, I- I didn't know you wanted all this so much." Shrugging my shoulders, I turn around to stroke my blue dress. Trying to hide my heated cheeks.

"It's not going to happen anytime soon anyway, so I guess I'll just have to keep dreaming." The silence that follows is almost painful.

"Nevermind. Also, we only have an hour left to get ready. We'd better hurry." He roles his eyes at my attempt to change the subject.

"You say that every time and you always beg me for another five minutes at the end." As I take off my sandals, he narrowly avoids a pair I throw at him.

"Be quiet, Cohen."

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Kirsten had outdone herself. The decorations, the guest list, the food selection. It was all perfection.

As I look out the window of Seth's room, I repeatedly brush a strand of hair out of my face. My heart beats faster with each passing second of silence and I feel my cheeks turning pink as Seth comes out of the bathroom.

The black suit, a red tie and the neat curls. This view is even more perfect than the one outside.

You'd think I'd be able to hide my attraction to him better by now, but when I audibly catch my breath, he looks at me critically.

"What? Does that scream my-mother-picked-out-my-wardrobe too much?" The crooked grin on his face makes me think dramatically long about my answer.

"Everyone knows you're a mama's boy, so it won't hurt your aura." The hand that comes to his chest as he sucks in air makes me giggle.

"Damn, that was mean. But do you think Summer likes mama's boys?" As soon as he says her name, it’s sounding like a prayer from his lips, I try not to show my disappointment on my face.

"Seth-" I sigh, trying to pull myself together. After all, he's still my best friend and I don't want to hurt his feelings. Even if it means hurting my own.

"What?" Innocence swims in his eyes and again, I wish I could tell him the truth. Instead, I continue to play matchmaker.

"I know best how much you want to impress her. But please trust me when I tell you that it always brings bad luck when one person loves their partner more. There has to be a balance." But my words don't seem to have any effect.

"I will bring balance to the force-" The laughter that escapes from his throat makes me shrug my shoulders a little more relaxed now. He knows he got me, when I can’t seem to stop smiling.

"Nerd. Come on, Skywalker, it's time we both show up at the party." Nodding, he closes the door and as we step out onto the bright terrace with the sun shining on us, I feel peaceful.

Unfortunately, the feeling only lasts two hours. Or more precisely, until Summer, the beautiful, graceful, mean Summer, enters the Cohens' house.

Since that moment, I have had an overexcited, confused, useless boy next to me who can't stop embarrassing himself.

"Do you think I should get her something to drink-" I interrupt his speech for the first time in three hours.

"If you don't stop this right now, I swear I'll never ever surprise you with comic books again." The threat actually makes him close his mouth.

"Why are you in such a bad mood? Do you need a drink?" If he hadn't said it so sarcastically, I would have found the question sweet.

"Seth, I can handle a lot of things in our friendship. Your never-ending sarcasm, your inappropriate jokes or your ability to always say the wrong thing to people. Hell, I can even deal with your love for cartoon characters and your obsession with video games on a daily basis. But talking about Summer every second of the day, twenty-four hours a week? That has reached my limit."

While I try to keep my voice low, the confusion is written all over his handsome face.

"But who else should I share my despair with? You're the only one who's really interested in what I have to say." His words hurt a part of my heart that I cannot describe.

"Exactly. I'm interested in you. Not how pretty Summer looks or what Summer just said, did, or might do in the future." For the first time that evening, he actually seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"So...change of subject?" Relieved, I have to start smiling lightly.

"Yes, please." As we smile at each other at that moment, it feels, for once, like I have his full attention.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

As soon as I open the door to the ladies' room, I wish I could immediately turn around and leave.

In front of the mirror, her face looks at me skeptically.

I try to act like she doesn't bother me, even though there are so many things I'd like to say to her.

"Aren't you that girl who's always with Steven?" I look at her, clearly confused.

Rolling her eyes, she continues. "The nerd with the brown curls, his parents own the house, I heard."

"His name is Seth." She shrugs and applies her lip gloss. Her eyes alternately focus on me and the mirror in front of her.

"Whatever. Are you together?" I feel heat rushing to my face and as I try to answer relaxed, she seems to see right through me.

"What- together? No- we're friends. Just friends." As she turns to me now, she raises her eyebrows almost disinterestedly.

"Really? Then why are you looking at him like you're in love with him?" I turn away from her curious stare and try my best not to let my nervousness show.

"You must be mistaken. He's my best friend." As she stands two steps ahead of me, I don't know what to say.

"That doesn't mean you don't have feelings for him. What about him?" Sighing, I can't try to deny it any longer.

"He doesn't." When I see compassion in her eyes, I start to like her a little.

"Then change that. He's just a boy. Show him what he's missing out on. A little skin showing, a few compliments. He won't realize what's happening until he's begging you to let him kiss you." I look at her, laughing, and for a moment I dare to dream.

"What if he likes someone else? How can I keep up?" With elegant steps she walks past me and opens the door.

"Then you have no choice but to outdo her."

When the door closes, I am left alone with my thoughts.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

As Seth loosens his tie, I am still deep in thought.

After my conversation with Summer, the party was over quicker than expected. Seth and I watched some of the guests, joked about the age difference, had two glasses of expensive wine and had the time of our lives.

All without talking about Summer again.

Now that I'm here in his room and we're getting ready for bed, I'm unsure about my next steps.

I usually sleep on his bed while he puts his mattress on the floor. Since we were little, this has been our approach to spend the night together.

However, tonight I want it to be different.

As I remove the clips from my hair and the makeup from my face, Seth talks incessantly about the latest Legion comic.

It's reassuring to listen to him like this while I think about my next steps.

We usually change separately, there's just a certain intimacy in being so open and showing yourself in your underwear.

But Summer said I have to go for it. Why do I listen to her? I don't know to be honest. I just think I should seize this moment of courage.

So I stand up and breathe in gently, trying to behave as inconspicuously as possible.

I slowly take off my dress and as it falls to the floor, Seth's head turns in confusion towards the noise.

"What have you dropped now- oh" I can literally see his eyes double in amazement and he almost chokes on his words in surprise.

I have to smile when I notice how he can't stop looking at me in my lace underwear.

1:0 for me.

"Are you still breathing, Cohen?" When I see him swallow, I turn my back to him. His reaction is so intoxicating that it fills me with renewed confidence. As my hair brushes my back, I finally hear his chatter.

"What- yeah- I'm just- I'm fine- are you fine? Has it gotten warmer in here? Are you warm? It seems so, otherwise you wouldn't be undressing in here. God, no girl has ever undressed in front of me." Laughing, I pick up one of his shirts with the stupidest designs, but there's still nothing I'd rather wear.

When I put it on, it covers me down to my knees and as soon as I turn around, I meet his gaze.

"We're not nine anymore, Seth. I think our friendship can handle us changing in front of each other." As I walk towards him, his gaze wanders along my legs.

"Er- sure. Of course, no problem. I- what?" My fingers slowly stroke his shirt, carefully grasping his tie as I begin to untie it completely.

"Do you think we can go to sea again tomorrow? This time we are not under any time pressure." I feel him stiffen slightly under my touch as he tries his best to stay cool. Well, as cool as Seth Cohen can be.

"Sure- maybe around one o'clock? Ryan is probably doing something with Marissa anyway. Doing god knows what- wait. I shouldn’t say his holy name out loud, when they are doing certain rather unholy stuff. Why am I saying this? I just mean, that we can both sleep in, I guess. And we can stay awake a little longer tonight." When his tie finally comes completely loose, I gently place my hands on his chest.

I meet his gaze as I raise my head, now so close to him. Our faces are only inches apart. I can see the brown in his eyes and the blush that adorns his face as he stops rambling.

"Yeah? What do you want to do?" Maybe this is the moment he finally realizes that Summer isn't the only one who exists in this world.

Maybe he'll finally notice me now.

"Teach me how to flirt?"

Did the world just stop turning? Or is it just my heartbeat that has stopped? Just with his words, just with the way he looks at me.

As if he no longer wanted to shy away from this tension between us.

"Flirting is an art, Cohen. I don't know if you're capable of pulling it off." His subsequent eye roll and the hand that he places pleadingly around my own make me reconsider my next actions.

At least now I can finally reveal my affection to him.

"Please, I'll go shopping with you. Even to the men's department so you can pick out my clothes. Just teach me." Surprisingly, I pause at his words.

"Even if I put sweatpants on you?" His face twists slightly.

"Yes, even if I have to wear sweatpants." I smile, brushing my hair back. As my eyes focus on his figure, a thousand thoughts race through my head.

"Okay. First step: your posture. I know how much you like to dramatically gesticulate your sentences with your hands, but you should avoid that when you're trying to flirt. You have to stay cool, confident. But still polite, not as if you don't care about the answer." Nodding, he listens attentively to each of my words, trying to understand the intention behind them.

"Like this?" I see him put his hands behind his back and stand there stiffly, his curious look ever present in his eyes.

I laugh and shake my head. "Not quite. Here, I'll show you." My hands move to his own ones, pulling them forward. Slowly I stroke his knuckles, but when I notice his opening mouth at my gentle touch, I let them go.

"Put them in your pockets. Stand up straight, but don't try to force it. Just relax." When he puts his hands in his pockets and stands with his foot slightly at an angle, he looks so carefree for a moment that I almost fall for the trick myself.

"Convincing enough?" Nodding, I try not to let the sight burn too much into my memory.

"Keep that up. Next important step. Your language, the way you speak. If you're going to flirt, it has to be seductive. You have to make me hang on every word that comes out of your mouth." As if I don't already do that.

As his eyebrows draw together, I see the confusion in his pupils and sighing, I speak up again.

"Try talking to me." I wait invitingly for his next move.

"Hey, uh what's going on?" When he doesn’t speak any further, I intervene.

"Okay, maybe I should show you how to do it first. Firstly, you need to try to initiate a conversation." I take a quick breath and try to relax my shoulders to prepare myself.

As I wrap my fingers around his collar and slowly stroke down his shirt, I see him swallow.

"Did you enjoy the party?" I try to maintain eye contact with him while keeping my voice a little quieter and giving more meaning to my words. I can literally see the gears turning in his head.

"I-I did?" When he stops speaking, I put my hand on his chest, circling the pattern of his shirt.

"Don't you want to ask me what I liked the most?" I see how he closes his mouth, trying to find the right words, as if he suddenly doesn't know how to talk to me normally anymore.

"What did you like best?" I smile sweetly, slowly sliding my fingers into his neck and playing with his brown curls.

My heart beats louder than ever, when I notice the expression on his face as I caress his hair softly.

"You."

It is this one moment when the world makes sense. When the eternal waiting, the torment of the last few years and the stupid boy in front of me finally makes sense.

Because his eyes wander to my lips and I feel his breath across my face as our bodies are drawn to each other like magic.

His lips almost brush mine, we are so close together that my mind is unable to think of anything other than his touch.

What it would be like to kiss him.

"Is this still part of the lesson?" His breathless voice makes me smile.

"Well, do you want it to end?" I have to laugh at his lips as he quickly shakes his head.

"What-what should I do?" I stand slightly on my tiptoes so I can whisper in his ear.

"What every princess wants from her fairytale prince. Kiss me."

He leans slowly into my touch. With every breath he takes, I can feel his arms sliding around my waist as his curls brush my forehead. He licks his lips uncertainly and when I look into his eyes, full of affection and the desire to kiss me, I fall in love with him even more.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this." Confusion adorns his features and I try not to let my strong heartbeat distract me too much when I finally tell him the truth.

"Waiting for what? Me?" Laughing, I close my eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling of his closeness.

"It's always been you for me, Seth. When I said, "You're unbearable"? In my head, I wanted to spend every second I'm in this world with you. Or when I always roll my eyes when you stumble over your words, as if you're afraid it would bore me too much and I would stop listening to you. Because I would never do that. God, I practically hang on every word that comes out of your mouth."

As astonishment takes over his gaze, I feel a blush creep over my skin. What do I have to lose now?

When he answers, a loving smile adorns his face, coupled with a brief shake of the head.

"So I was unconsciously flirting with you the whole time? You know, step two?"

"You don't have to flirt with me for me to fall for you, Cohen. I fell already, hard."

His eyebrows rise, his nervousness changes almost abruptly to a smug expression.

"Is that so? Even though I talk about Captain Oats for two hours, when I was telling you his story from my childhood?"

"Why do you think I'm still here? No one would listen to that, not even me, if I hadn't been thinking about how good you looked in your sweater."

"Very shameless of you, Captain Oats would be disappointed by your little interest in his life."

"And would Seth Cohen be disappointed if I'm too interested in his life to pay attention to anything else?" Grinning, he pulls me closer to him.

"I'm pretty sure he'd be flattered." His lips hover over mine as his words cast a spell over my mind.

"Then I guess I should do that more often." Slowly, I push him back and let him fall onto his bed while his eyes roam over my body.

"Oh, definitely. You can do anything you want." Smiling sweetly, I move closer to him until I sit down on his lap. His hands find their own way to my thighs, stroking my bare skin.

“I can hear your heartbeat, Cohen. Are you nervous?“ I smile as I tease him, roaming my fingernails over his chest.

“I don’t do nervous. But indeed sunshine, my heartbeat is that noticeable, because you‘re making it beat faster. You‘re making my time on earth feel faster and I would‘t want it any other way.“ Smiling in the kiss, I stretch my hands around his neck.

Being with Seth Cohen isn't always easy, but I guess love isn't either.

[dragon-kazansky]

The Last Goodbye

I'm heartbroken. I can't believe he's gone. To those of you who have been following me a while, you'll know Val Kilmer was very dear to me. Tom Kazansky, Iceman, from Top Gun has been and still is my number one fictional man 💕

My friend @sitkafay said I should write out something to express my feelings. I responded I didn't know what to write, but then an idea came to me. There's only one way really I know how to write things: In the form of a fic. So, I hope this is okay. I hope this fic can bring us all a bit of peace in his loss.

Yes, he was a celebrity, but he was an actor who made an impact. He'll be missed dearly by all his fans.

Also, thank you to everyone who came to check on me after the news. I am truly devastated by his loss, but Tom Kazansky will always be here on my page. 💗

I dedicate this fic to my Chaos Squad!

@whiskeyswriting @breadsquash @callmemana @askmarinaandothers @faerieroyal @cycbaby @tngrace @ladylanera @bayisdying @callsignscupcake

Iceman x Dragon

When Jade arrives at the house with her husband, Ron, in tow, it's quiet. Too quiet. Never have they ever known the Kazansky house to be so silent. Any other time this house would be full of laughter and chatter. The door was always open to those dropping by. Even now the door is unlocked. They were expected to come.

Walking into the main hall, they are met with even more silence. It felt wrong. Silence didn't belong in these halls, and Jade wishes with all her being that she could change it.

But she can't.

Her husband kisses her forehead and lets her find Rachael on her own. Because right now all Dragon needed was her Whiskey, as strange as that sounds.

Jade heads upstairs, taking her time. All along the wall are framed photos of a life lived. From Polaroids to photos taken from the kids' phones as they grew up. A whole lifetime.

The bedroom door is open a crack. Jade can hear soft sniffling from inside. Her heart broke knowing her friend was suffering. She doesn't even knock. Jade enters the bedroom and within seconds the other woman is on her arms sobbing.

It's not silent anymore.

The house is full of heartbreak and loss. A broken woman who doesn't know what to do with herself anymore. What does someone do when the love of their life is gone? Jade doesn't hold the answer. Slider is still here, downstairs. Ice is not. Tom is gone and Rachael is alone.

No, not alone. She'll never be alone, but a piece of her will always be missing.

Jade lets her cry until she can't no more. She guides Rachael to the bed and they both sit down. Jade doesn't say anything. She doesn't even try and make Rachael say anything. They just hold each other until Rachael's voice is hoarse and the crying stops.

“He's gone.” Her voice sounds lost and broken.

“I know,” is all Jade can think to say, rubbing her back gently.

“It's not fair. He should still be here. He… He…” She sobs again. Jade pulls her in close. “He's gone…”

Jade isn't sure how long they both stay like that for. It feels like minutes but also hours at the same time. Time means nothing in this room.

“I can't… I can't even sleep in here.”

“No, I know.” Jade kisses the top of her head and runs her fingers through her hair. Oh, how her heart aches for her friend. This was never going to be easy.

The room fills with only sobbing again. Jade tries to comfort her friend, but there's only so much she can do. She can't take away her pain.

Eventually, Ron pokes his head around through the door. Jade looks up and smiles softly at him, but her smile doesn't reach her eyes. As soon as Rachael spots Ron she gets up and gives him a hug. It's one of those big bear hugs that make you feel safe and at home. Ron lets his own tears flow.

“God, I'm so sorry.” She whispers in his ear.

“You're sorry? I'm sorry.” He says back to her.

They hold each other in this moment of peace. Though she's surrounded by two very dear friends, there's still a hole of where someone else is supposed to be. The group of four is down to three. It feels wrong somehow.

Ron takes her hands in his. “Whatever you need, we're here.”

“Thank you."

She turns toward the bed where a box sits. At first she doesn't say anything, she just stares at it. The other two follow her gaze. “It has some of his belongings in it.” Rachael walks over to the box and pulls it forward, peering inside. Jade and Ron flank her on either side to also look in it.

His aviators sit on top of everything else. Rachael picks them up and looks at them. “These old things… he's had these since day one.”

“The original?” Ron asks.

“The original,” she nods.

She sets them aside and lifts up a photo frame. “This is the photo from his office. I thought maybe you would want it, Slider.” She hands the frame over. It's the Top Gun photo.

Ron look at it quietly and nods, “I'll keep it safe.” He holds it to his chest.

The next item that comes out of the box is a leather bound journal. Rachael runs her hand down the worn out cover. “I was hoping to give this to Pete…”

“What is it?” Jade asks.

“A diary. This one specifically is from his time in Top Gun. He wrote about pretty much everyone in that class. There's a lot of comments about Pete on it, but I think it's stuff he'd like to hear.”

“He will come,” Jade says.

“Will he?”

Ron runs a hand down his face. He has no words to offer her. He can't make Maverick show up, but he hopes the man does.

At the bottom of the box is a few more items belonging to Tom, but they're just little things Rachael wanted to give to people who were dear to him, her found family mainly.

Jade wraps her arm around her shoulder ams pulls her in close. Rachael hugs the journal to her chest and cries again. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. Don't ever be sorry.”

“What am I going to do without him?” She cries. “He's always just… been there… and now he's not.”

Jade wraps both her arms around her now and holds her tight. There is nothing any of them can do to make this better. The pain won't just go away overnight.

Later that evening, Ron and Jade sit in the living room of the Kazansky house. Rachael is fast asleep upstairs. It took Jade a while to calm her down enough to get her to sleep, but she managed. Rachael hadn't eaten anything. Jade didn't force her to.

Her husband had just passed away, how can anyone expect to be okay after that?

Ron wraps his arm around his wife and kisses her head softly. They can't even bring themselves to turn the TV on.

“The house is too quiet.”

“The others will be here tomorrow. She asks us here first because she needed us,” Ron says softly.

“I know, but still… It feels wrong.”

He gives her a squeeze. It does feel wrong. He can feel it. Everyone feels the same. But no one is feeling pain more than their Dragon is upstairs.

“In time, we'll be okay.”

Jade nods quietly. A moment later, her phone starts ringing on the coffee table. She gets up and answers it. Ron watches her go into the kitchen and then tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling. He sighs.

The next morning, Rachael wakes up with a pounding headache. As the world comes into focus, a gasp catches in her throat. She's in their bed… her bed now. She hadn't slept in this room since he passed. Now, she was waking up to half an empty bed and a completely broken heart.

Tears come to her eyes as she stares at his untouched pillow. He was here only a few days ago, now he's gone. She reaches out and strokes the pillow gently. It's cold to the touch, but she can almost see him lying there looking at her with his beautiful blue eyes.

A sob breaks from her lips and she buries her face in her own pillow, clutching the bed covers tight. She would never wake up beside him again.

There's a soft knock at the door. Jade doesn't wait for her answer. She pushes open the door and pokes her head in. When she sees the state of her friend her heart aches for her. Jade enters the rook and sits on the edge of the bed. She strokes Rachael's hair gently. “Come on, sweetheart. You need to get up.”

“I don't want to…”

“No one wants to do this, but he deserves the send off. Come on, let's go eat.” Jade urges her friend up out of the bed and holds her hand as they go downstairs. Ron is in the kitchen cooking up a mighty breakfast. Jade guides Rachael into a chair and pours her some juice and some coffee. Ron dishes up the food and joins the two ladies at the table. No one talks as they butter their toast and tuck into their food.

Jade keeps an eye on Rachael. She worries about her. Today was the last goodbye and she feared her friend wasn't up to it, but she had to be. Jade refused to leave her friend's side for a moment. She reaches out and grasps Rachael’s shaky hand and gives it a squeeze.

Rachael can't even get through a slice of toast without tears breaking out. Jade gets up and pulls her into another hug. “It's okay. It's going to be okay.”

As Jade calms her down there's a knock at the door. Ron gets up to answer it. When he opens the door he sees Lucky. Bailey, Ice's pride and joy. She immediately falls into his arms and cries in his chest. Ron holds her tight.

Rachael stands at the end of the hall. She knew who it was who had come and she needed to see her. Bailey freed herself from Ron's arms to run to Rachael. Dragon caught her in her arms and held her tight to her chest. Lucky cried in her mama's arms. Rachael held her close and rocked her gently.

“It's going to be okay,” she whispers. Though Rachael wasn't sure which one of them she was trying to comfort.

Lucky couldn't stop crying. Rachael had never seen her girl cry so much. Though no one had seen Dragon cry so much either. Ron and Jade give the girls a bit of alone time.

Eventually, everyone gathers around the breakfast table again. Lucky sits next to Dragon, needing her mother's comfort. They both manage to eat something. Conversation was sparse, though.

Once breakfast is over, Ron works on clearing the table. Bailey goes to help him, leaving Jade and Rachael alone again. Jade insists on helping Rachael get ready for today. As much as Rachael hates to think about it, she knows she has to do this.

The two of them go upstairs. Rachael goes into the bathroom to shower and clean up herself. She hadn't taken proper care of herself these past few days. Tom would have hated knowing that.

Jade set out Rachael's outfit on the bed. She had picked it up yesterday for her before coming to the house, as well as her own. Jade got changed while she waited for her friend. She was in the process of doing her hair when Rachael came out wrapped in a towel. Jade smiled and kissed her forehead. “For luck,” she whispered.

Rachael smiled and sat on her bed to dry her hair. The two of them spent the next hour getting ready. Mainly, getting Rachael ready. Jade sorted her hair and make-up for her. Rachael was grateful she was there. She couldn't have done this on her own.

There's a knock at the door and then Lucky enters. Rachael smiles at the sight of her. Bailey was dressed and ready to go. Rachael reaches out and takes her hands in hers. They both squeeze gently.

“You look beautiful,” Rachael whispers softly.

“So do you,” Bailey smiles back.

They hug and hold each other for a while. It's Ron who disrupts the moment by entering the room. “The cars are here.”

Rachael grabs her purse and takes a deep breath. She looks at the bed for a moment. She keeps expecting him to show up, but she knows he won't.

Bailey loops her arm with Rachael's and they leave together. Rachael and Bailey get in one car, Jade and Ron get in the other. They head to the cemetery.

The car ride is quiet. Bailey doesn't let go of Rachael's hand. Both of them look out the window the whole ride there.

When they arrive, Rachall takes a deep breath. Bailey gives her hand another squeeze. “We can do this.”

“We can,” Rachael says, looking at her. They smile at each other and then climb out of the car. Jade and Ron join them and they walk up the footpath.

Now it's all real.

Rachael struggles to hold back her tears as her eyes land on the coffin. A photo of Tom stands upright behind it. She has to cover her mouth to not sob too loudly, though no one would blame her. All eyes were on her as she approached the coffin. Bailey bursts into tears again, and Ron pulls her into his side. Jade lets Rachael go on her own to approach the coffin.

Slowly, she reaches out and brushes her fingers along the top. Her vision blurs from the amount of tears running down her face.

“I love you,” she whispers.

She could almost hear him saying it back. She nearly smiles. She turns slowly and finds everyone watching her. Her family, the Top Gun recruits, old friends.

Jade holds her hand as she guides her to her seat. The ceremony begins. Rachael can hardly focus. She can't tear her gaze from his picture. It's almost like he's right there in front of her. She half expects him to smile and hold out his hand to her. She'd take and they'd kiss and dance and just be together as it should be.

But none of that happens.

All those in uniform perform the usual send off for a Navy officer. The flag is placed over the coffin.

She's then asked to say some words.

Rachael hadn't planned anything. She had been far too upset to sit and think of what to say. How can anyone think of what to say at their soulmate's funeral?

She stands on shaky legs, Jade giving her a supportive pat on her back. Rachael approaches the stand next to the coffin. Her eyes are focused on it until she comes to a stop. She takes a deep breath and faces everyone.

“I…”

What does she say? She could go with the usual funeral speech most people use… or she could find it within her heart to be honest and share how she really feels.

Just as she opens her mouth to try and speak again, someone catches her eye. He's in uniform coming toward the ceremony.

Maverick. Pete.

He catches her eye and nods at her silently. Rachael smiles. He's here. Everyone is here, and everything will be okay.

“Tom Kazansky was a lot of things to a lot of different people. Many of you knew him as Admiral Kazansky. Others knew him since he himself was a lieutenant. I always just knew him as Tom. We met many years ago, before the Navy. Dated for a while, broke up, and then got reunited again. The universe was sending us a sign. Our relationship sparked once more and from the second we both realised we couldn't be without one another, our future was set.”

She looks at the coffin again. “Tom was many things. A determined and confident pilot. A flirty and cocky gentleman.” A few people laugh. “But he was also kind, gentle, and romantic. Tom cared for those he deemed friends, and even more so for those he considered family. It's because of Tom I have the family I do today. A found family, and I wouldn't trade a single one of you for anything.”

Rachael wipes the tears from her face and looks at everyone again. “I hope you all know how much you all meant to him.” She looks at the coffin again, “and how much he meant to me.” She places her hand over her heart. “I miss him forever and always, just as much as I love him. Tom, this is my last goodbye to you, but I hope even now you know you are mine always. I love you.”

The tears run again, but this time it isn't Jade who comforts her, it's Pete. Mav takes her in his arms and hugs her tight. She returns the hug. Everyone is silent as they watch.

“I've got you,” Pete whispers.

“Thank you,” she whispers back. “For everything.” She lifts her head and looks up at him. “I'm glad you came.”

“I wasn't even going to miss it.”

“I know, but still, I'm glad to see you.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

Pete reaches into his pocket and pulls out something, holding it out to her. Rachael takes it from his hand and holds it in her open palm.

“His dog tags,” she whispers.

“I think you should have them.”

Rachael clutches them to her chest. “Thank you.”

Pete takes them and puts them on her so she can wear them. Rachael clutches them in her hand and squeezes gently. He'll always be with her. Always.

Pete guides her back to her chair. The ceremony ends with jets flying overhead. Rachael finds herself looking at the coffin again. He still feels so close, yet so far away.

As others break away and go off to greet others, Rachael walks back to the coffin. Once more she places her hand on top of it. She feels warm, the same warmth She used to get from him.

“I'm going to miss you every day. I can't believe you left me… but… I know I'm not going to be alone.” Rachael glances behind her at the group. “I'll never be alone.” She looks back at the coffin. “I'll be visiting often. You can't escape my company, even in death,” she smiles. “I love you, Tom. Always and forever.”

The Hard Deck is open, but only for the funeral. Penny made certain no one else could come in tonight. Drinks would be discounted, and she still had to make a living, you know. She had also prepared a wonderful buffet for everyone.

Rachael entered with Pete in tow. He got her a drink and she down half of it there and then.

“Slow down, sweetheart.”

“I needed it.”

He chuckles softly and keeps his arm around your shoulders as she thanks people who come over to her. Once she's alone again she sigh. “It feels weird.”

“Yeah…” He agrees.

“I can't believe he's gone.”

“Me either.”

Rachael and Pete share a look. So many words are spoken without being said. A huge part of their lives is gone.

“You know, he loved you more than life itself,” Pete says with a gentle tone.

“Yeah,” Rachael smiles. “I know. He made sure I knew it every day.”

They both chuckle.

“Life is going to feel weird for a while, but soon enough, we'll crack on as we always do. The world is still turning and we're still here. Believe me, that house will never be empty,” Pete grins.

“It never really was,” Rachael chuckles. “I couldn't have done any of this without all of you beside me. I never want to feel lonely, I never can be with you lot.”

“And that's how it should be.”

They both raise their glasses. “To Ice,” Mav says.

“To Tom,” she replies.

They drink in his honour.

Dragon without Ice is like a jigsaw with a piece that doesn't quite fit. She'll never be complete, but she'll also always be okay. She'll miss him for the rest of her life as there was no one quite like Tom Kazansky in her life. He was unique and wonderful and everything she could have wanted.

Now he's gone.

She'll be okay in time. She has a family beside her to keep her on her feet, and whenever she's feeling sad or lonely, they'll be right there to cheer her up.

The pain will never go away, but it will get easier to handle.

Goodbye, Tom Kazansky.

Goodbye, Val.

[i-dared-myself]

Tip Jar

Seonghwa x reader

In which a bored and overworked reader meets a sweet and kind idol

It was another busy day. Patrons bustling in and out of the doors, drinks being set down on the counter, and listening to order after order.

Dull.

That’s what your life was. Utterly dull.

Nothing exciting ever happened, not even an unusual order. It was always black coffee, or iced black coffee, and if you had to mix one more hot chocolate with extra whipped cream but no milk-

 Maybe it was time to quit your job. You hated it, and the pay was terrible. You were barely scraping by, leaning heavily into your savings because everyone tipped like shit around here.

“Hello,” you greet yet another customer. Your smile is weary and your cheeks feel strained, but your manager would immediately fire you if you so much as frowned a little bit. “How can I help you?”

“Can I get a strawberry lemonade?” the man smoothly asks. The lower portion of his face is covered in a mask, and he wears a hat that barely hides the strands of white hair peaking out.

“It’s… It’s the middle of winter.” You blink at him in surprise. 

“You’re right,” he muses, glancing out the window. Snow is falling gently. “Do you not sell lemonade in the winter?”

“Oh, no, we do.” You shake your head and force the smile back. “That’ll be six-fifty. How would you like to pay?”

He pulls out a card and taps it to the machine. You make his drink and place it down on the counter as quickly as you can before moving on to the next customer.

“Thank you,” he says gently, drawing your attention back to him. He wraps elegant fingers around the plastic cup. “Is it just you working?”

“Yes,” you answer with a tinge of exasperation coming through your voice. “My coworker called in sick half an hour ago.”

His perfectly groomed eyebrows pull together. “How awful.”

You hum, grabbing a napkin to clean up the crumbs a broken cookie left on the counter. “It is what it is.”

“Well I’ll tip you what you deserve,” he says. He tilts his head slightly. “In Korea we don’t tip, but I made sure to research what is reasonable here.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to,” you reply, flustered. It’s rare for you to receive tips, even though you work so hard. 

“I insist.” The corners of his eyes wrinkle as he reaches for the tip jar before retracting his hand. “I’m Seonghwa, by the way.”

You tell him your name before bustling back to the order station, where a woman is impatiently calling for you. By the time you look back, he’s gone.

The rest of your shift blurs by, and you’re exhausted by the end of it. Your manager empties the tip jar into your hands and pats you on the back for a job well done.

“Sorry it was so busy,” he says, smiling sympathetically. “I would help, but I had paperwork to do…”

“It’s okay.” You sigh down at the two dollars of change in your hand. “I get it.”

He patters off to a back room again, and you shoulder your bag before going home. The bus ride is long, and the entire time, you’re stewing about what that Soenghwa said.

‘I’ll tip you what you deserve.’

And he had seemed so nice. But he did say they didn’t tip in Korea, so perhaps that was the reason.

You shrug it off and forget about him for the rest of the day.

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

You arrive at work the next day, tying your apron on and washing your hands. Your face still stings from the cold outside, but you smile brightly at the first one to step up to the counter.

Then the second, and the ninth, and by the time you’ve made your fiftieth plain, black coffee of the day, you want to scream.

Yes it’s nice making such simple orders, but it’s so bland and boring. How do these people all have the exact same taste in drinks?

“Remember me?” A man smiles at you, white hair framing his face. His soft pink lips pull upwards into a warm smile.

You stare at him. “Uh, yes. You! It’s so nice to see you!”

He laughs lightly. “I’m Seonghwa. Don’t worry about it, I’m not very memorable.”

Something glints in his eyes.

“What would you like?” you ask as you wipe down the expresso machine. It’s another day of just you.

“I liked that strawberry lemonade.” Seonghwa tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Anything like it?”

“Um, we have a hot chocolate? You seem like you enjoy sweet things,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I mean it’s not a cold drink but maybe you’d still like it anyways and-“

Seonghwa drums his fingers on the counter, grinning pleasantly. “Hot chocolate it is.”

You ring up his order, and he pays with his card again. You close the cap over the foamy whipped cream and slide it to him.

“Tipping you what you deserve again,” he says, eyes filled with mirth. Seonghwa takes the drink and bobs his head to you before slipping out of the shop.

“How are things going?” your manager asks as he pops his head into your section. 

“Good.” You grab a stack of cups and line them up. “Did Sarah call in sick again?”

“Yeah.” Your manager examines his nails. “Can you work a couple extra hours?”

The tone of his voice doesn’t leave it up to question.

You nod. “Yeah. No problem.”

“I’ll cover while you take a bathroom break,” he offers. His eyes flick over your face. “Why don’t you touch up your makeup too?”

Tears prick at your eyes as you shut yourself in the bathroom. You really want to quit this job. So badly. 

You exit the bathroom and re-enter the main part of the shop with a fresh smile. 

Sure it’s not a genuine one, but none of these people know that.

“You’re still here?” Seonghwa asks about four hours later, another man behind him. This one has jet black hair and a set to his jaw. “Or did I show up at the beginning of your shift.”

“No, it got extended.” You meet his eyes and you think yours are watering, but you’re too tired to care. “I’ve been here seven hours so far, three more to go.”

The man behind Seonghwa murmurs something you don’t catch, deep voice barely meeting your ears. Seonghwa replies in a language you don’t speak before facing you. “We’ll take two coffee if you can. Cream and sugar in both, please.”

You nod. “Nothing special?”

“And a cookie,” Seonghwa adds on, making the other man snort. “Oh, this is Mingi, by the way.”

Mingi inclines his head in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

You echo it back, already moving on to make their drinks. Seonghwa goes off to get a table for once, while Mingi waits.

“He’s a generous tipper?” Mingi asks as he hand him the cookie. “I had to loan him some cash today since he gave it all here, apparently.”

You frown. “Uh, yeah?”

Mingi raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem too convinced.”

You swallow thickly. “I don’t pay much attention to those things.

Mingi scoffs. “Come on, just tell me, please? I’ll be able to hold it over his head forever.”

“Okay, first of all, I totally get that tipping is a strange thing in Korea,” you relent, “so not tipping a lot is totally okay.”

Mingi stares at you. “So he’s not tipping a lot?”

You pour the milk into the cup, mixing it with the coffee. “Not really.”

“Strange.” Minho glances back at Seonghwa who has nearly finished the cookie by now. “Because he was bragging about how well he understood tipping culture.”

“It’s totally okay, though.” You wave your hands dismissively before giving him the drinks. “Have a nice day!”

Mingi glides away back to his friend, who takes a sip of his coffee. They converse for a minute before Seonghwa approaches the counter, which is empty for once. It seems the rush has finally come to an end.

“Is something wrong with it?” you worriedly ask. 

“How much tipping is normal?” Seonghwa questions. Frustration is etched into his expression. “And why wouldn’t you tell me I was doing it wrong?”

“Uh, because we don’t know each other that well?” Your eyes widen. 

Seonghwa purses his lips. “I guess so. But how much should I be giving you? Because I’ve been giving a hundred-“

“A hundred dollars?” you hiss, cutting him off. “Seonghwa, that’s insane!”

His lips turn upwards wryly. “I haven’t been tipping that well in other places. Just for you.”

You rub at your face. “Okay, well, I haven’t been getting that money. Also why are you giving me that much?”

“Is that not how much you’re supposed to tip?” Seonghwa sheepishly says. “And for you because…”

“I’m heading out now.” Your manager scratches the back of his neck. His eyes flick between you and Seonghwa. “Is there a problem here?”

“Just complimenting your employee on her professional mannerisms.” Seonghwa smiles at your manager, nose scrunching up slightly. 

Your manager shuffled awkwardly. “Right. Thanks, I guess.”

Seonghwa watches him go before facing you again. His expression is suspiciously smooth. “Who gets the tips?”

“Uh, whoever was working at the time. We usually split it, but I was the only person here,” you explain as step around the counter and begin wiping tables down. Seonghwa trails after you. “I just don’t know where- Unless…”

“I believe your manager is taking the money,” Seonghwa grimly says, confirming your thoughts.

Mingi perks up. “Want me to go beat him up?”

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head, slightly startled by the dark look to his eyes. “I wanted to quit anyways.”

The three of you are the only ones left in the shop. It’s pitch black outside, and the snow is reflecting the moonlight.

“I’m closing up in a couple of minutes,” you warn. “Last call for any insane drinks.”

“They’re not insane!” Seonghwa protests.

“You ordered lemonade in the middle of a snowstorm!” you exclaim. You motion out the window. “You’re crazy!”

Mingi clears his throat. “I’ll be outside. I want to go home sooner than later, by the way. We have a big performance tomorrow.”

“Oh, you guys preform together?” you ask curiously.

“Yeah.” Seonghwa studies your face as he says, “We’re in a K-pop band.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” You nod along, bending over the table to get the side closer to the wall. You hear a stifled noise but pay it no kind. “And you’re preforming tomorrow?”

When you glance over your shoulder, Mingi is gone and Seonghwa’s cheeks are slightly flushed. 

“Yup.” Seonghwa coughs. “Uh, are you going to get another job?”

You hum and place the cleaner back where you found it. “Yeah, after a couple days of messing up orders and lowering the rating on Yelp.”

Seonghwa pulls his phone out with a flourish. “Great idea. Um- Can I get your number? Just so I can check that you’re getting tipped properly at your next job.”

“Right,” you tease, taking his phone and putting your number in it. “But I won’t be upset if you text me for other reasons.”

Seonghwa looks pleased with himself as he tucks his phone away. He adjusts his scarf and his hands flex nervously. “I… I’ll remember that.”

You walk him to the door, somehow having ended up hand in hand with him. He squeezes once before releasing you and stepping to Minho’s side.

Seonghwa smiles shyly. He glances to Mingi, who is coincidentally staring at the moon. 

“Kiss me?” you hopefully ask.

Seonghwa ducks down so his lips meet yours. It’s soft and sweet, with a bit of a desperate edge to it that makes your knees weak.

“I’ll text you,” Seonghwa breathlessly says before chasing after Mingi.  

[kimingyuslover]

shattered promises

synopsis: in a relationship marked by constant arguments and unfulfilled promises, you seek clarity from Jeonghan about your future together.

word count: 1,543 & some edits

genre: angst

warning: tears, jeonghan is an asshole, 6 and a half year relationship!!! lowercase intended

a.n: kinda rushed ending(?), i had a writer block while making this t__t. I hope y'all enjoy this. Also, i finally updated something on my account, lol

☆ check out my other works > main masterlist

argument after argument keeps happening inside of your relationship with him, whether it's because of something small or big.

in the past, these fights would simmer down after a few hours, ending with whispered apologies and lingering touches. but now, things feel different. after years of cycling through the same frustrations, you find yourself standing at a crossroads. you need clarity, certainty, something more.

"do you plan on taking our relationship to a serious level?" you ask, breath shaking, and your voice seems to waver.

he's silent, not wanting to answer your question, because he knew he'd say the same thing– he's not ready.

you sigh, the weight of his unspoken words crashing down on you. quietly, you retreat to your shared bedroom and pull out a large suitcase. slowly, methodically, you begin packing your belongings.

while Jeonghan stays seated on the living room couch, his mind running hundreds of miles per hour, he just needs to wait for your reaction. either you'll lock yourself in your shared bedroom like you always do or the worst thing that he could ever imagine, you broke the relationship you have with him.

Jeonghan, initially optimistic that the argument will blow over like before, realises with dread that this time it's different.

His stomach churns at the thought of the worst-case scenario: you leaving him for good.

minutes later, he hears the unmistakable sound of luggage being dragged. alarmed, Jeonghan rushes to the staircase, his heart pounding. at the top of the stairs, he sees you—three suitcases packed and ready.

"no, no, no," he mutters under his breath. He wasn’t expecting this. the arguments were familiar territory, something you always overcame. he thought this would be no different.

"I've made up my mind" you said to him, still a little struggling carrying all of your suitcases.

Jeonghan's eyes widen in panic. the woman he thought he’d love forever is walking out of his life, and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

“you're everything i want, Jeonghan–

you pause, the usual softness in your voice replaced with quiet resignation. no more "baby." no more "my love." none of the pet names he adored so much.

"You’ve always told me I’m ‘the one,’ but I’ve never felt like it. I’ve tried to hold on, but I can’t just survive anymore—I need to live. I love you, Jeonghan. I really do. I always will."

your words hang in the air, heavy with finality.

Jeonghan opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it again, realizing he has no answer—nothing that can undo the years of uncertainty he’s put you through.

"You’ve been inconsistent," you continue, tears threatening to spill. "We’ve been together almost seven years, and you still tell me you’re not ready for something serious. I told you, from the start, that I wanted more by the time we hit four years. But I’ve been waiting... and hoping... and I just can’t do it anymore."

“but i guess i'm hoping too much, i shouldn't be putting hope to you when i first asked you at our 5 year anniversary, it may be selfish of me for thinking this way, thinking that maybe you want to be wed to me as much as i want to be wed to you, i'm always wrong. thank you for the memory though, i've learned a lot from this” with that you drag your suitcases and walk past Jeonghan whose legs are pinned to the floor, even when he heard the closing of that one door.

You still hope, deep down, that he’ll chase after you, beg you to stay, promise to change. But as the seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes stretch into ten, the apartment door remains closed behind you.

By the time the elevator reaches the ground floor, you know—he’s not coming.

You step into the night, flagging down a taxi to take you away from the place that once felt like home.

.........................

meanwhile, Jeonghan is still seated at his couch, replaying every word you say to him earlier. His brain is still processing everything that happens, the argument, confusion, and regret fully filling his head.

all he knows is, the next second, his brain finishes, swallowing every piece of information he got, tears already staining both of his cheek, and it's too late to chase you.

he hurriedly searches for his phone, wanting to call you, but he halts his movement, thinking that you would want some space after the big argument.

so he didn't call you.

.........................

Three and a half years pass.

Jeonghan steps off the plane at Incheon Airport, his sleek black hair neatly styled, his black trousers and white button-up making him look polished yet distant. he’s returned from Italy, where work projects with Woozi kept him occupied, but no matter how far he went, he could never escape the thoughts of you.

he's hoping that this time, you will gave him another chance, because he's ready now, to be in a serious commitment with you.

in fact, he already has the ring on him, he just has to find you again, making you his again and you will live happily ever after.

arriving at the old apartment, he feels a strange mix of hope and dread. he’s never let go of the memories you shared there, good or bad.

he picked up his mail from the receptionist, giving him a smile before walking to the lift carrying his things.

A few minutes pass and he finally arrives at his apartment.

after he takes a shower and gets dressed, he wants to start opening his mail one by one, but something catches his eyes, an envelope with your name on it.

for a fleeting moment, his heart leaps. but then he notices another name below yours: Choi Seungcheol.

he opens it, and he doesn't even think he can handle his heart breaks again, but it does happen.

it was your wedding invitation, with that man.

all of his hope was getting crushed by the simple “we're getting married!” text inside of the invitation and the pre-wedding photos of you and seungcheol.

the photos show you and Seungcheol, radiant and in love. the invitation is beautiful, but it feels like a dagger to his heart.

all of it was beautiful, but it's not him who you married, it was not your wedding invitation, it was not his intention when he came back overseas.

the things he had in his mind long gone, only filled with the regret that starts to fill up his body painfully slowly.

he curses under his breath, tears streaming down his face, nothing can't stop it anymore, his sobs are getting louder.

.........................

days later, Jeonghan finds himself seated in a church pew, his hands clasped tightly together. the music begins, and all eyes turn toward the doors. You appear, arm-in-arm with your father, wearing the wedding dress you once described to him as your dream. you look breathtaking.

the music starts to play, all the guests turn around to see the big door opens then there's you and your father. The gown fits your form gracefully with the veil covering your face and there's crown on your head.

you really look like a princess, and Jeonghan remember that you had told him that this is your wedding dream look.

lots of guests start tearing up, including him.

tears well in Jeonghan’s eyes, though not from joy like the other guests. he watches as you walk down the aisle, each step taking you further away from the life you once shared with him.

everything feels like it's going slow, the way you walk down the aisle delicately with your father by your side while holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers and seeing your fiancé ahead with the officiant, the slow music fills the air and makes this scene even more beautiful.

and god, you're so gorgeous in that dress, a smile etching both at yours and seungcheol's face, happy moments really shared through the air.

after the officiant announces you as wife and husband, seungcheol launches at you, kissing you deeply while Jeonghan and the other guests clapping and smiling, except his was fake.

your "I love you"s and shared smiles are beautiful, but they aren’t meant for him.

morning turns into evening, the sun finally gets tired and decides that it was the right time to get some sleep while the moon is rising to replace the sun's work.

all the people you invite watching you slow-dance with the one you love.

Jeonghan swallows the lumps in his throat with a shot of vodka while seeing you with seungcheol, his heart burns and so does his body.

this time, his heart is shattered, he knows he loves you but he has to let you go, because you're someone else’s now.

you're not his girlfriend anymore and you will never be again, he regrets not being able to fix his mistakes, and he regrets not being able to be your husband so he can be by your side as long as you live.

he will mourn every single day of his life until he dies, the pain of missed chances, and unfulfilled promises will always haunt him

[balesgirl]

thought writing this would make me feel a bit better but it didn't lolll I also have the worst fucking headache rn.

patrick bateman x reader where he comforts reader after a rough day. Cause he's a sweet little yuppie puppy like that (i'm joking)

You barely remembered how the argument started. Something small, something that shouldn’t have mattered, but suddenly it spiraled into something much bigger, louder, crueler—and now their words echoed in your head, over and over, as you sat in the dim light of your apartment, curled up on the couch—It shouldn’t have hurt this much, but it. It hurt so badly you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You wanted to stop crying. You wanted to be stronger than this, but no matter how many times you told yourself to move on, their words stayed, digging into you like knives. You weren’t sure how long you'd been crying or how long you'd sat here—your hands trembled slightly as you ran your fingers through your hair, pressing your palm against your forehead in frustration. The weight in your chest had been growing all day, like a pressure you couldn’t shake, and now it felt unbearable.

Your family had a way of making you feel small—no matter what you did, it was never enough. The latest conversation had been no different. Sharp words, disappointed sighs, and the suffocating realization that nothing would ever be fixed. It didn’t matter how hard you worked, how much you tried to keep everything together. You’d still be the one falling short.

You barely noticed when the front door to your apartment opened, you’d given Patrick a key, though he rarely used it. You always tried your best to look good for Patrick–But tonight, you didn't have the energy to care.

you heard the flick of a switch, the rustle of fabric as he set his coat down. Warm light filled the room. You didn’t move. You just sat there, staring at nothing as their words played over and over again in your mind.

“You didn’t answer my calls.”

You blinked, staring ahead. You hadn’t even heard your phone ring—“I was busy.” Your voice barely sounded like your own. He stood there for a long moment, watching you. You felt it before you saw it.

Patrick didn’t like this.

Your red-rimmed eyes, the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers had curled into your sleeves. He didn't like it one bit. “What happened?” he said firmly.

you swallowed. “Nothing.”

“That’s not true.” he said as he moved closer, You waited for him to brush it off, to tell you to stop crying. But he didn’t. Instead, he just sat down beside you.

Pressing your palms against your eyes, you exhaled sharply “Family.” The word came out unsteady. “Same thing as always.” patrick was silent But you should have known he wouldn’t let it go because suddenly-“What did they say?” your chest ached. The words sat heavy on your tongue, thick and suffocating. You weren’t even sure why this time hurt more than the others.

“It doesn’t matter,” you muttered, shaking your head. “It’s the same thing every time, Patrick I—” Your breath hitched, and suddenly, all the frustration and sadness spilled over. “They make me feel like I’m nothing.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

You expected him to tell you to get over it but Instead, his hand reached out–settling against your arm. His grip was firm, grounding. Your chest tightened as the weight of everything crashed over you all at once, and before you could stop yourself, a sob broke free—he didn’t pull away. he carefully wrapped his arms around you.

It wasn’t perfect. His hold was awkward at first, tense. But then, as you sank into him, he adjusted, pulling you closer. One hand moved up to the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice was eerily calm, but his jaw was set tight—he was upset. “People don’t have to hit you to hurt you” you whispered, and patrick’s expression didn’t change, but his hand flexed where it rested against you, like he wanted to do something—but didn’t know how. “If they make you feel like this, then you shouldn't talk to them.”

your lip quivered as you spoke. “It’s not that simple.”

“It could be.”

you sniffled, trying to stop your tears "Yeah well..i can't stop thinking about it."

“Then stop.”

You let out a weak laugh. Of course he’d say that. “It’s not that easy.” But patrick just tilted his head, looking at you. “It could be.” he repeated—you just shook your head, sniffling again. “They were wrong,” he said softly. “Whatever they said to you—it was wrong.” You didn't know what to say, your fingers curled into his suit. “You don’t know that.” his grip tightened “I do.”

“Because I know you.”

you choked on another sob at that, but this time, you weren’t alone. Patrick didn’t say anything else. He just held you.

and for now, that was enough.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

A TRAGEDY THAT'S BUILT ON DESTINY!

I WOULD CHANGE MOST EVERY SINGLE THING. I WOULD LET YOU KISS ME, KILL ME!

synopsis// multiple different universes, but one thing remains the same: geto loves you in each and every one of them.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 5.8k

contents// different universes, angst, satisfying angst?, hurt/no comfort but also hurt/comfort at the same time, ooc geto?, character death tehe

notes// inspired by everything everywhere all at once and the song kiss me kill me by mest :3 i wrote this SOOOO long ago but u have no idea how much i adore this oneshot. like i think it might be my fav oneshot ive ever written. it is everything to me!! and i did not do the idea justice but u get the point!!

December 24th 

You assume the fight is over because neither you nor Shoko have gotten any more wounded victims. The two of you glance at each other briefly but don’t bother saying anything. What could be said about a full-blown borderline war schemed by your high school best friend and lover? Nothing could possibly be said, so nothing is. The two of you stand there waiting for anything to happen, whether that’s getting called back to Jujutsu High or being brought another victim, and eventually something does happen, and Shoko gets a call. You can’t read her expression for the whole 20 seconds she’s on the phone before she passes it to you. You furrow your eyebrows in question.

“It’s Gojo,” she says blankly before attempting to hand you the phone again.

You hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“You should get down here,” he says blankly over the phone.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah, just—you know those back alleys by the school?”

“Uh huh?”

“Meet me there.”

“Gojo, you’re kinda scaring me-“

“Y/N, just come; you’ll thank me—I hope.”

You frown and begrudgingly agree, “Okay, fine, yeah, whatever, I'm on my way.”

“Make it quick, alright? I'm serious,” he adds quickly before hanging up.

As you give Shoko her phone back, you roll your eyes at the fact that he didn't even give you a chance to say okay before hanging up.

“What was that about?” she wonders, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

You sigh. “No idea, but he wants me to go meet up with him for some reason.”

Shoko hums curiously. “You should get going then; must be urgent.”

You nod, “Yeah.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It doesn't take you long to get to the school given how fast you were walking since Gojo told you to hurry it up, the tense anticipation aiding in your speed. It does, however, take you a few moments to find Gojo, but once you do, you find that he's not looking at you, but he’s speaking, and it's not to you either; it's to something—or rather someone—he's blocking with his body.

“Gojo?” you ask once you finally reach him.

Gojo turns to face you, a sorrowful smile on his face, before stepping out of the way to reveal who he was speaking to and the whole reason why he called you here in the first place.

When you see Getou on the ground, your heart sinks into your stomach, and your blood runs cold. You look back at Gojo, who merely shrugs.

“You should say your goodbyes; I already did,” Gojo whispers before leaving you and Getou alone.

Getou lets out a hushed laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic of him, don’t you think?”

The hammering of your heart roaring in your ears makes it difficult to hear what he says. You stand there frozen in what you can only describe as horror as you stare down at Getou, who's missing an arm and is only growing more pale by the second from blood loss.

“Do you plan on ignoring me?” he asks softly, as though he’d understand if that really was your plan.

You blink a few times and shake your head, your tears blurring your vision. “I dont-“ 

Getou hums appreciatively and smiles up at you, which makes you completely break down, a sob racking through your body so violently that the only thing you can do is collapse to your knees. Getou winces as he tries to sit up straighter, as if he’s going to catch you or crawl over to you. You sniffle, your sobbing uncontrollable, as you crawl to him, and once there, you let your head fall upon his blood-stained chest. Getou immediately places his only remaining hand on the back of your head, as if holding it to his chest, and gently pats your head.

“Are you an idiot?” you snap.

“Might be.” 

You sob even harder into his chest. “Why would you do this?”

Your question makes his heart race. “I wanted something better for Jujutsu society.”

You shake your head at him disapprovingly. “Why’d you have to go about it this way?”

“I don’t know Y/N," he sighs. "Does it make a difference?”

You scoff, raising your head to glare at him. “Of course it does, you idiot! You left! and had a hit placed on you! Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” You sob, letting your head fall back onto his chest. “Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as you wanted this? Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as I wanted you?”

“Y/N,” he coos regretfully, as if he doesn’t know what to say, which he doesn’t. He did want you, and he’d even go as far as saying he wanted a better jujutsu society for you so you wouldn’t have to live your days slaving away for the non-sorcerers. “Y/N, look at me.”

You shake your head and screw your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. You don’t want to see your first and only love withering away right in front of you.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

“I-I can't."

“Y/N, open your eyes.”

The demandingness dripping from his voice has your head shooting up to look at him and your eyes opening wide, but as you open them, you’re not met with an actively dying Getou; you're met with a sunny and flower-filled meadow? You move to wipe your tears, but your face is dry. You blink a few times, trying to take in your new surroundings, given that a moment ago you were just in a dark alley and now you're sitting on a blanket in a field under a glowing sun.

“Y/N?” Someone speaks from beside you.

Your attention is drawn to the person. “Getou?” 

He smiles at you.

“Getou, where are we?” you ask, now starting to slightly panic.

He looks at you in confusion. “We’re on our date?”

Your chest heaves up and down, and you're more confused than ever. “Huh? But- We-“ 

“We what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We were just behind Jujutsu High; you were missing your arm, and-"

Getou scoots in closer to you and cradles your face in his hands. The feeling of a warm, full-of-life Getou touching you brings tears to your eyes all over again.

“Woah, woah, love, calm down. What are you talking about? Jujutsu High? Me missing an arm?”

“You don’t remember?” You croak out, distraught, and slightly convinced that you’re going crazy.

“Remember what, love?” he asks softly.

You stare at him in disbelief. “The fight—you wanted a better jujutsu society, and you tried? You lost your arm! You were dying; I saw you! I was there with you! You were covered in blood and-“ 

Getou gently wipes your tears away. “Love, that didn’t happen. I’m here, yeah? and I have both my arms, and there was no fight for Jujutsu society? Whatever that means..."

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?” 

“It was probably just a bad dream, Y/N.” He smiles at you reassuringly.

“You don’t know about jujutsu society?”

“Am I supposed to?”

You stare at him in awe. What’s happening? How could he not know about jujutsu society when it was the very thing he was fighting for? But then again, how could he not be missing an arm? And how could the two of you not be in a dark alleyway right now? How could any of this be happening? Maybe he’s right; maybe it really was a bad dream. A very vivid, detailed, lucid, and lifelike bad dream.

“I guess not,” you respond with a frown.

Getou wipes away your last few tears and smiles at you. “You’re okay; I’m okay. We’re okay. It was just a bad dream, love.”

“Yeah,” you say haltingly, "yeah, I guess it was..."

“Are you okay now?”

You nod as you take one of his hands off your face and into your own. “Yeah, I think so... Um, where are we, Getou?”

“On our weekly date?” He answers curiously as he removes his other hand from your face.

You look around at your surroundings curiously. “In the middle of a forest?”

“This is your favorite place, Y/N,” he says, quizically.

As you take another glance around, you hum, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I can see why; it’s beautiful here.”

He raises his free hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N, are you okay? How come you don't remember?”

You look into his eyes, and something doesn't feel right—as if you're not meant to be here—but you digress and shrug anyway. “I don't know...”

He frowns briefly before leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips, and you practically melt, having not felt his lips on yours for far too long.

“That's alright. We can still make the most of the rest of our day, right?”

You nod, and he smiles at your response, letting go of your face and hand to open his arms to you, inviting you into his embrace. You return the smile before laying yourself in his arms, trying to ignore the rising feeling that something is wrong, but you can't because the minute your head touches his chest, you're thrown into a moment, a memory, a dream? where you're back in the alley with your head on a bleeding-out Getou, and it's just for a split second, a flash in time, but it's enough to make you go stiff and your breath hitch.

Getou rubs his hand down your back soothingly. “Hey, what's wrong?”

You swallow harshly and try to concentrate on the green scenery in front of you rather than whatever you keep seeing. “Nothing, I'm fine. It's fine.”

Getou places his head on top of yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I am.”

He hums disapprovingly but doesn't press the issue any further; instead, he just runs his hand up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you down, which works as you begin to relax into his embrace and regain control of your breathing.

“What do we usually do here?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He shrugs. “Usually just talk about our days, our future plans, and stuff like that.”

You hum. “Is it nice?”

“Very nice; I like spending our days together.”

“I do too,” you correct yourself, “or I'm sure I did too.”

Getou doesn't say anything; instead, he lays himself down and, since he's holding you, takes you with him. You sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter close, the sun and his hold keeping you warm. Suddenly, even with your eyes closed, you can tell it's getting brighter outside, and you groan. You’re about to ask what's up with the sun when a shooting pain in your head causes you to wince. Your heartbeat rings in your ears, and you can feel your hands grow clammy.

You feel unstable, as if you're no longer on the ground being held, as if you're floating through time and space, and the uncertainty forces your eyes open, but you're not met with anything—no, that's not right, you're met with everything, glimpses of time that you can barely make out. One moment you see Getou at an alter, and then you see you and Getou nodding to each other in determination, and the next glimpse is of you, Getou, Gojo, and Shoko laughing about something before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you hiss in pain, and all too suddenly, you're back on stable ground, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone.

You still hesitate to open your eyes, unsure of what you'll see, but when you can just barely make out that you're not where you were before, your eyes shoot open. You're now standing in the doorway of what appears to be the room of two teen girls, and Getou is sitting at a vanity staring at you; his hair and make-up are done, and he's frowning. Despite your confusion about where you are, you can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh haha, yeah, keep laughing.”

You slap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, mumbling, “Our daughters thought I would make a very good model, apparently.”

You go to laugh again, but it hits you, and you look at him like he's crazy. “Sorry, daughters?”

He returns the look. “Yes? Our kids?”

You look away, muttering to yourself, “We have kids...”

You didn't mean for him to hear it, but he does anyway and instantly stands up and makes his way toward you. He grabs your shoulders, drawing your attention to him, and when you look at him, he's staring back at you in concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You want to take him seriously, but truthfully, you can't when he’s wearing bright pink lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow. He does look cute, though. You try to bite back a smile.

“I'm sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that.”

Getou sighs. “I know I look amazing. Can you try to ignore my beauty for like five seconds and tell me why you’re acting like you don't remember our kids?”

You frown. What are you supposed to tell him? That you're apparently having nightmares upon nightmares about different lives with him? And now you're not sure what's real and what's not? You can't say that, so instead you shrug and merely mutter, “You do look amazing like that, though.”

His head drops to the side at the same moment that his smile fades. “Y/N.”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Some really weird shit is going on, Getou,” you breathe out heavily.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your hand and leading you to one of your apparent kids' beds, where he sits you down.

“What’s going on?”

“I don't know, and you wouldn't know either so,” you explain vaguely in frustration.

He gives your hand a squeeze. “Maybe I would?”

You shake your head. “I don’t wanna waste time on that; I don't know how long I have here.”

“What?” he asks blankly. “What do you mean you ‘don't know how long you have here’?”

“Getou,” you whine, not wanting to think or talk about it because you wouldn't even know where to start; all you want is to learn about this new nightmare and what it holds.

He relents. “Okay, I won't ask.”

You smile at him and let a moment of silence pass before asking, “What are they like?”

“Huh?”

“Our kids—daughters.”

Getou hums. “They’re great; we raised them well.”

“They are especially great at making you a model, huh?” you snicker. 

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh whatever, you're just jealous they never make you model.”

You shrug. “What are their names?”

“Well, we were gonna keep the names they had when we adopted them, but they ended up not having any names at all, so we settled on Nanako and Mimiko.”

You stare at him in awe. “Did you pick the names out?”

“We both did,” he recalls fondly and vividly, as if it were just yesterday that the two of you were picking out names.

“And we are...?”

He kisses your cheek before answering, “Married—we’re married.”

You hum and raise your left hand, your gaze fixed on your ring finger. “I don't see a ring?”

He hums curiously. “You were wearing it this morning? Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

You nod. “Yeah.. Maybe..”

Getou doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. What could he? His partner of multiple years suddenly has some form of amnesia and can't remember that they have kids, let alone that they’re married to him. You turn to face Getou. He looks like Getou—like the Getou you know, who apparently was merely a nightmare. Besides all the makeup and stuff, he looks like Getou. He says he’s Getou, but something just feels off.

“Are you real?”

He nods. “Very real.”

You look around the room, taking in the messy vanities, the messy beds, and the drawers stuffed with clothes. “Are our kids real?”

“Extremely real.”

You study his face for any hint of uncertainty, and when you find none, you ask, “Am I real?”

He narrows his eyes at you and hums curiously. letting go of your hand only to bring both hands up to your face and start smooshing your face together, pushing and pulling at the flesh on your cheeks.

“Getou,” you mumble.

He hums approvingly and nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yep, you’re real.”

You smile at his idiotic antics but appreciate them nonetheless. And although you can touch him and feel him, and he is real, as are you and your kids, it still doesn't seem real. And then, all too suddenly, your head starts throbbing again.

“Fuck no, not again,“ you panic.

“Y/N? whats wrong-“

You can't hear what he’s saying anymore; it's like you've gone underwater and he's speaking to you from the surface. Another shooting pain in your head has your eyes screwing shut, and you know you're fucked when all you can hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears and feel your hands grow clammy all over again. You’re back to feeling unstable, drifting between time and space once more, and just like last time, the uncertainty of the feeling forces your eyes open, and you're faced with everything again—more glimpses in time that you can barely make out.

One moment you think you see yourself back at the beginning on Getou’s cold chest, and then you see yourself and Getou covered in blood, and you're not sure if it's yours or someone else's, and the next glimpse you see is of Getou on your cold chest, like your roles had been reversed, before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you wince in pain, and finally you're back on solid ground again, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone. This time you don't hesitate to open your eyes, and you find yourself in a cemetery.

You look around curiously, trying to assess your surroundings while simultaneously trying to recover from whatever just happened. But you're starting to realize something now. All of this is real. You laying on Getou’s chest was real; having a picnic with a perfectly fine Getou in a world where curses apparently don't exist was real; having kids and marrying Getou was real; and all of those little bits of time in between each new life were real. All of it was real—is real; all of it happened—is happening; it just didn't happen to you specifically. Not this version of you, at least. You’ve realized that you’re experiencing different universes and living alternate lives of your own. You didn’t think alternate universes existed, but it's not too hard to accept when the world you live in—the world you belong to—is riddled with curses and sorcerers. You are not above believing in alternate dimensions.

Finally over your sudden epiphany, you're able to realize that you weren't immediately met with Getou like you had been the past two times you got transported into another dimension. As you put the pieces together, a grave feeling washes over you—no Getou, and you’re in a cemetery. You swallow harshly.

No, no, no.

You start running around the cemetery, inspecting each and every headstone, and praying to the universe(s) that you aren't about to find one that reads his name.

No, no, no.

You keep running, the cemetery seemingly interminable, until you run up behind someone who looks suspiciously a lot like Getou, and when you hear him murmur under his breath, you sigh heavily in relief that it is him, but why is he here? You tilt your head and try to look around him to read the gravestone.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim, stunned.

Getou spins around faster than you can even blink, and he almost chokes on his spit. “Y/N?” His chest heaves up and down as he shifts his gaze between you and the gravestone. “But-but-how-you’re-“

“Dead apparently,” you say, finishing his sentence as you stare at the gravestone that reads, "HERE LIES L/N Y/N."

He stares at you, completely bewildered, and you can see him trembling. “How—how are you here?”

Will something bad happen if you tell him this isn't your universe and there are actually multiple universes out there? Who knows, but you’re about to find out.

“I'm not, well, I'm not supposed to be.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I'm just hallucinating; you’re not real.”

His reply breaks your heart. “I am real.”

“You’re not.”

You step forward, taking his hand in yours. “I am.”

He finally opens his eyes back up, and he stares at you through tears, completely amazed that you're here, that you're actually touching him, and that you're actually alive and real.

“I don't—I dont understand—you're dead!” He stammers, yanking his hand from yours, and as he breaks out into full-on sobs at this point, he’s reminding you an awful lot of yourself in your own world.

You nod slowly. “In this universe, it seems so... how?”

“What?” he stutters. “This universe?”

You ignore his question. “How did I die, Getou?”

He shakes his head sternly. “No, I'm not saying anything until you explain what you meant. What if you’re a curse? What if I cursed you, holy fuck? Fuck!”

“Okay, curses still exist in this universe; good to know,” you acknowledge with a nod.

Getou snaps, “What are you talking about!?”

You flinch, which only makes him sob harder.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm just so fucking confused; you're supposed to be dead,” he bawls as he falls to his knees.

You take another step closer and kneel down, drawing him into your embrace and letting him sob into your chest for as long as he needs, ignoring the horrible feeling of deja vu crawling all over you like worms.

“Shh, you're okay,” you whisper, soothingly brushing your fingers through his hair.

He finally starts to calm down after a few more minutes of whispering sweet nothings to him, and once he’s no longer sobbing, he pulls away.

“Answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” he says through sniffles.

You nod. 

“What were you talking about, universes? How are you here, Y/N? You’re dead—or you’re supposed to be...”

“Do you believe in alternate or multiple universes?”

He shrugs and wipes away any remaining tears. “I don't know; I never really thought about it.”

You hum and nod. “Right, so, uh, they exist! There are a lot of universes out there, actually." You let out an uneasy laugh.

He stares at you curiously.

“Obviously, I'm not from this universe.”

He continues staring at you.

“Oh, cmon, curses exist, but you draw the line at alternate dimensions?”

Getou frowns and says, “I guess you’re right... So you’re from a ‘different dimension’?”

You point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don't air-quote me like you don't believe me; how else would I be here right now if I were supposedly dead?”

“I don't know; that's what I'm trying to figure out!” he exclaims, gesticulating wildly.

“Can you just humor me and hear me out?”

He takes a deep breath before ultimately agreeing, “Okay, fine.”

You clasp your hands together. “Okay, um, in my universe, you’re dead.”

“What?!”

You shake your hands and your head. “Ok, no wait! You’re not dead yet, but, uh, you were like on the verge of death when I got put into another universe.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “And you just left me?!”

“It wasn't on purpose! Why would I want to leave you when you’re dying? I don't know how I ended up here! or in the last two other universes!”

He stops you and asks, "Okay, okay, wait—how am I dying?”

You look away awkwardly. “You wanted to change jujutsu society in… a not-so-friendly way... And, um, you were willing to die for your cause.”

“I'm dying the same way you did?”

You return your attention to him. “What?”

Getou nods. “Yeah.”

You shake your head. “What do you mean you're dying the same way I did?”

“In this universe, you’re the one who wanted to change jujutsu society in a... not-so-friendly way,” he explains sheepishly.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself.

He nods again. “So, in yours, our roles are reversed.”

“And I'm dead already? I didn't even last as long as you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess," he shrugs, "but it worked; there hasn't been a curse, at least not a special-grade one, since you died." His eyes gleam as he looks up at you. “Did I succeed?”

You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously and shake your head.

“I'm dying for nothing, then?”

You look away and mumble, “My Getou is okay with it; he knew he might fail—he knew Gojo was the only one who could probably change anything—but he still wanted to try.”

“Okay, well, this—” he gestures to himself, “Getou isn't okay with it.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, well, you’re also still alive, so it doesn't really affect you that much, now does it?”

“Still! You just told me one version of myself is dead—or dying—and I'm supposed to be chill with that?”

You stare at him blankly. “Your version of me is dead.”

Getou grows quiet, and you can almost physically see how his demeanor wilts away.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You said you were in two other universes before this one, right?”

You nod. 

“What were they like?”

You smile as you think back on the previous universes: “We were both alive and happy, and we were together in them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... and curses didn't exist either.”

“Huh,” he says ambivalently, like he's not sure whether to be happy for his other selves or be bitter that that isn't him. “Tell me more?”

“In the first one, we were actually on a date in some forest that I apparently loved.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, completely engrossed in your retellings.

“In the second one, we were married.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Really?”

You nod. “We even adopted two daughters.”

“What were they like?” he wonders, enamored by some alternate universe of you two.

“I'm not sure; I didn't get to meet them,” you confess meekly. “But I know their names were Nanako and Mimiko, and they loved doing your hair and makeup. You adored them, and I'm sure I adored them too.”

He nods wistfully. “In your universe, were... were we together?”

“For a bit.” You look away sadly. “We broke up when you, uh, went off and wanted to-“

“Change jujutsu society,” he chimes in.

“Yeah... How'd you-“

“Same thing here, just roles reversed, remember?” He laughs sadly.

You nod. “Did you still love me? even after I'd gone off and did what I did?”

“I did. I do,” he quickly corrects himself. “Did you?”

“I still do.”

The two of you sit looking away from each other in glum silence. It's hard to stay upbeat about your happy alternate selves when your actual selves are currently dying or dead.

“Kinda feels like we got the short end of the stick, don't you think?” Getou mumbles softly.

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, there are no curses in those universes, and we’re both alive and happy, but in ours we’re dead?” he elaborates.  

You nod reluctantly. “Well yeah, but I don't know; I guess it's kinda nice to know that it worked out in at least one universe.”

“Don't you wish it worked out in ours?”

“Of course I do, Getou; what kind of question is that?" you scoff. "You think I want to go back to my universe just to watch you die?”

“Well,” Getou pauses, turning to face you, “what if you don't go back?”

Your gaze zeroes in on his. “What?”

“What if you stay?…”

You abruptly stand up and chuckle uncomfortably. “Getou-“ your sentence is cut short by an echo of your name that only you seem to hear because you're the only one gazing in the general direction it seemed like it came from.

Getou joins you on your feet and follows your stare, but when he realizes you aren't staring at anything, he returns his sight to you.

“Think about it.”

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look back at him with a small frown.

“I'm practically dead in your universe, and you're dead in mine, but we’re together right now!" he says, taking your hand in his. "Maybe the universe put you into mine for a reason— so we don't have to go back to one where we’re not together…”

You struggle to swallow; your mouth suddenly goes dry as Getou stares at you in full, unadulterated hope, and you can't bring yourself to say anything to crush that.

“Y/N, wouldn't that be nice?”

You nod and murmur, “It would.”

“Then?” he asks expectantly.

Someone calling out your name echoes in your head again, and you quickly look down the street to now see a small, bright light in the distance, and you know your time here is soon coming to an end.

“I... I can't stay, Getou.”

His voice cracks as he panickedly asks, “Why?”

"Because,” you explain with a shake of your head, “I'm not your Y/N, and you're not my Getou.”

“I could be,” he says confidently, or he would have if it weren't for the way his voice trembled.

Your vision goes blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head.

“We could try!”

You sniffle and reiterate, “I can't stay.”

“Please,” he begs through his sobs. “Please, we can make it work.”

You look away from him, trying to fight back your tears, but it's futile; you’re a complete mess, just like he is now. “No.”

His hands shake as he grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Y/N, please, I'm begging you.”

“I cant.”

“Don't leave me again.”

The same voice calling out your name echoes in your head again, this time louder, and the bright light is getting bigger and closer.

“I don't want to go back to a universe where you’re just gonna leave me either, but,” you sob, weakly clinging onto the wrists of his hands that are still on your face.

“So stay.”

You shake your head and take his hands off your face. “I won't.”

Getou’s head goes limp and drops as sobs shake his entire body, and you can't help but think that's exactly how you'll look when you return to your universe and have to deal with the death of your Getou.

“Please,” he pleads.

You're both in tears as you lift his head up by his chin to look at you. The voice calling your name echoes even louder, and the bright light is getting closer by the second.

“You’re not my Getou, and I'm not your Y/N.”

He nods reluctantly. “I know, but...“

The bright light is only a few feet away at this point, and the voice echoing in your head is so loud that it's giving you a migraine—you know this is your last few minutes, if that, in this universe, so you lean in and take Getou’s lips into yours—a goodbye kiss for a Getou who you'll never see again, a goodbye kiss for a Getou who desperately needs one when he never got one from his y/n. You pull away and cradle his cheek gently.

“I have to go say goodbye to my Getou now; I think he’s waiting for me.”

He nods. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll want a goodbye kiss too.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips. “I know.”

Getou doesn't get the chance to respond when you're suddenly gone—completely vanished right before his eyes.

You, on the other hand, are back again, feeling unstable as you float through time and space, and again, the uncertainity of the feeling forces your eyes open, but this time you're met with only one thing—the image of you on your Getou’s chest. With every passing second, it grows closer, as does his voice calling out for you, and before you know it, you're back in your body, looking up at him with a gasp.

“Y/N?” he asks weakly.

You're still in tears from the previous universe as you now pull him into your embrace.

He winces, and you quickly let go of him. “Sorry.”

He smiles at you with blood in his mouth and teeth. “It's okay.”

You have to force yourself to look away to try and choke back a sob, but Getou notices immediately and slowly lifts up his remaining hand to cradle your cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You nod. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” you croak out.

“Kiss me?” He asks out of breath, knowing he doesn't have much longer.

You don't hesitate to lean in and kiss him, ignoring how it tastes like blood and tears as well as how cold his lips feel. You ignore it because he's kissing you back. He’s kissing you with all the power his frail body can muster, and it makes up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds that your lips haven’t touched. But just as quickly as he kisses you, he stops, but it's gradual; he gradually stops kissing, moving, and breathing. It doesn't take long for it to get to that point, and even when he's not kissing back, you still kiss him with some fairy-tale hope that it will bring him back, that your kiss will somehow save him, like he's Snow White and you're Prince Charming. But it doesn't.

It doesnt.

You pull away to look at Getou, whose eyes are glazed over but not closed. You sob as you reach up to close his eyes, only to let your head fall against his chest. He’s so cold. Too cold. That's why you have to stay there on top of him to keep him warm. You'll stay there all night if you have to. But you don't even get the chance to stay there for longer than a few minutes when someone suddenly pulls you off of him, and you look over your shoulder to see Gojo, who's crying as well.

“He’s gone, Y/N.”

"I know," you sniffle, “I know.”

Gojo helps you up to your feet, his hand on your waist to keep you steady as he leads you away from Getou’s body. The further you get from it, the harder you cry.

But it's okay. It’ll be okay because, even though you lost Getou in this universe, you’ll eventually be able to come to peace with it knowing that in a hundred, a thousand, and even a million other universes, you and Getou are living happily ever after.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if, instead of sparkling, when a vampire steps into the sun they turn ugly and horrifying? Like, the sunlight lifts the veil of otherworldly beauty to reveal the demon lurking underneath. Essentially, they turn into Nosferatu is what I'm getting at.

I remember reading a fic with a premise similar to this a long while ago, but I cannot recall the name of it.

Do you think anything would change in the series if that was the case? If Bella saw Edward turn into a actual monster in the sunlight, would that break the glamour of dating a vampire, or is she in too deep for it to matter?

You are deeply funny, anon, that's what you are.

As for the fic, my best guess is you're referencing Be Careful What You Wish For by The_Necroposter, as upon turning into a vampire Bella sees vampires as horrifically ugly creatures.

But back to your question.

Bella, the Meadow, and "Oh no"

Everything up until this point is exactly the same. Edward already believes he's the most hideous looking creature on the planet, Bella already firmly disagrees.

When Bella asks Edward if he burns in sunlight, if this is always the reason he's missing on sunny days, Edward gives a very similar answer to canon of "... It's not harmful but it would... uh... be distracting"

Because he doesn't want to tell her "acutally, I start looking very corpselike and it's deeply gross". Edward at this stage is at the "ah ha ha ha, if I was a good person I would make sure Bella runs away from me and never returns... but I don't want her to do that."

So, because of that, Bella still gets invited to the meadow, as for Edward this is a) him giving in and admitting he has a thing with Bella and that they'll be alone together and now she knows he's a monster b) an opportunity to scare her off which is what he would do if he was a decent person. (And he does try this canonically, that was what all the "I'M A MONSTER", tearing trees out and running around like a terrifying lunatic was about, it was just he was so hot and anguished that Bella thought it was great).

"Bella's going to see this and she's going to realize I am bad news" Edward says to himself, and while he's very sad about this... it's for the best and will be good for Bella over all EvEn ThOUgh ShE'll MaRRy MikE nEwTon!

So, Edward is prepared, but he must do it.

Bella is not prepared.

Edward did tell her he's especially hideous in the sunlight, that it will show her how truly monstrous he really is, but she doesn't believe him. Edward, after all, has already been talking about his monstrous appearance and how everyone fears him because they have an animal instinct.

Bella's not like the other girls.

Besides, she's in love with Edward even though he's a vampire. She knows he's a vampire. If he's a vampire in the sunlight or if he murders her, then Bella's love is not shallow enough that she'll be disssuaded by that. THIS IS TRUE LOVE, PEOPLE.

Also, how could beautiful Edward ever, in any situation, be ugly? He's so beautiful it's unreal, this is made up.

So, Bella sits there and watches as he steps into the sun--

OH GOD, IT'S A WRETCHED CORPSE GARGOYLE IN A BLOUSE.

Bella--

Privately realizes that this is worse than she ever expected. He really did become horrifically, awfully, terrible and even Bella (who thought she had the funny 'scared of vampires' switch turned off in her brain) isn't digging this.

This is...

Bad.

But... shouldn't Bella be able to see past this? She's in love with Edward, she loves him for who he is, not how he looks in the sunlight. And he's perfectly beautiful the rest of the time, god, she'd be such a shallow monster if she loved him any less for this thing he can't help.

Bella tells him she doesn't care what he looks like. Now, she can't lie and admit it's not... terrible, but it's not who Edward is. Stepping into the sunlight and looking like a demon is not a remark on his character in any way, it's just what vampirism does.

This reflects nothing on Edward.

Edward can't believe that Bella is this good, this selfless. She's unreal.

Rather than cuddle in the meadow, they go back to cuddle in the house.

TL;DR

In the series, whenever people bring up the many cons of being a vampire to Bella, they'll include "you'll look ugly as shit in the sunlight" and Bella insists she doesn't care because she's in it for Edward.